Whatever it was, it hurt straight to the core of his heart.
"Seriously Misha," her name sounded acidic on his tongue, he was like a snake that was out of control, "You really don't remember me?" His voice sounds so meek, he isn't even sure if some alien has taken over his body. He feels something wet on his face, and realizes, he is pathetically crying, his heart is breaking into pieces again, and this time she doesn't promise him, even if she is standing in front of him, to mend it back.
Her eyes double in size, she is shaking her head so hard, no, he realizes, she is shaking, her whole body is shaking.
He can't take it anymore, he takes a step forward, and,
A boy with black and blue hair suddenly comes out of nowhere and enters the corridor, wearing a Givenchy star leather jacket and shoes that scream Gucci.
"Misha" the boy says, looking at Aakash.
Misha turns to that voice and Aakash sees the difference that boy's voice makes, her whole demeanor turns almost relaxed from stiff.
The boy opens his arms and she runs into the boy's arm so fast as if she is missing a train.
He feels a smoke filling his throat, his stomach churns in response.
That boy puts a hand on Misha's waist and whispers something in her ear, and Aakash wants to punch that jerk so hard, that he wants to break his nose.
That jerk looks at Aakash almost challengingly, and Aakash wants it to happen, if that jerk is the captain of the debate team, Aakash is a national level boxer; he almost wants to deviate all his anger and hurt into something physical.
He wants something to bleed like his heart.
But then Misha turns to him, that boy's arm still wrapped around her waist. And he sees her face, drenched in hot tears, her cheeks apple red. Her doe-like eyes that looked so deep brown and vulnerable, almost red, because she was still trying to wipe away the tears stubbornly.
He knew that she would not stop crying easily, he knew that her face will turn almost beetroot red, he knew that her skin will turn so soft, it would feel like a ball of cotton, her quivering cupid lips, would taste like a fresh plum fruit. He knew because she had cried for him, not because of him.
He closes his eyes tightly he can't look at her this way. The only thing he can't bear in his life is seeing someone he loves, sad and crying. That is the reason he let her leave in the first place. That is the reason he didn't try to contact her at all after her grandmother told him not to. He thought she would come to him, when she could, he trusted her, he trusted their love, didn't want to make it difficult for her, ever.
And he realizes, maybe people were right about young love being a mere joke, he doesn't feel like that though, he feels as if he is inhaling pieces of sharp glass, he has to let her go again.
And it should be easy, because she doesn't love him anymore. She isn't making any promises to come back. She doesn't even recognize him.
It should be, but it isn't.
It's like someone breaking him all over again, picking out parts of him, bit by bit. Throwing it so far away, that he thinks he is never going to catch it.
It's never easy when you love someone with all your heart, and know that you are never going to meet someone like that again, never going to love someone like that.
But sometimes you have to leave the person you love the most in world. You have to, if it comes to them.
He opens his eyes and doesn't look at her, he feels like Achilles soaring in the river, knowing his death is coming and being glad about it. He looks at the boy with blue and black hair, and says, very clearly, "If you ever hurt her, I will find every single bone in your body, and break it into so many pieces that you wouldn't be able to put it together."
And then, he walks away.
He doesn't hear her calling out his name like he wished she once would.
He doesn't turn back because he has no reason.
He wants to, with every single cell in his body, he wants to.
He doesn't.
His boots crunch in the snow, and fills his hair, and he lets it.
He walks straight from the basketball field to the gravel sided by trees that he walked with her, hand in hand. He is crying noisily, pathetically wiping his nose, students who have started to arrive for exams look at him worriedly and weirdly.
He is walking and he is looking straight, the only way he can keep walking.
A girl almost bangs into him. And he hears her asking something distinctly, hears the word, 'are you okay?' nods, and keeps walking. He can't see anyone right now. The only thing revolving in his head is the girl he loved and known since he was three. The girl who was 13 when, she last told him that she loved him, and now doesn't even remember him.
Maybe forgetting someone is easy, he thinks.
He knows, it's not.