"He's passing by, rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. And he feels like home." -- from "long story short"
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"What are you guys?" A simple question stirred my calmed world. Like a drop of ink polluting my clear thoughts, curiosity tainted the tranquility I had carefully cultivated.
I knew she was trouble since she spoke about me moving aside and sharing what wasn't hers or mine. And now that she raised the question—so vocal about it that my heart stopped beating—I wondered what this meant.
It was a question like plague I chose to stay away from; always there in my mind, lingering in the shadows, but never spoken aloud. Now that the cat was out of the bag, I wondered…
What were we, really? Even I was curious, anticipating, but also afraid to know the answer to this question. We were doing well; could this change things?
Did we even have a label?
We were not friends to begin with. Friends don't kiss, and we've kissed more than we should have. Neither were we a fling nor a casual hookup. We just existed in this gray area, where emotions were tangled and boundaries, blurred. We never spoke once we crossed that haziness, and everything just seemed normal with static in the air.
"No offense, but our charming guy here doesn't do relationships." The green girl continued shooting arrow after arrow at me. I was not hurting; my heart was safe, but my stomach was churning.
My eyes found him, the subject of her barbs, watching me intently, as if he were an outsider to the discourse.
I felt exposed. Like a little, beautiful mermaid on display for everyone to observe, but he was the only one who seemed genuinely interested in what my answer could be.
God of silence, descended upon us, his lips sealed shut as if guarding a secret. The intense eyes watching me spoke volumes, urging me to break the silence as if I were the keeper.
"Come on, don't be shy; even a whore speaks nowadays." I was now convinced that the girl was a devil reincarnated; her words were always in a roundabout, so suggestive and offensive that even her friends raised eyebrows.
She wanted a reaction from me, just like a tick drains energy from its host. Her provocative words were like venom, slowly seeping into my veins, tempting me; urging me to unleash the anger she has so natured in me.
Why did I agree to be with them?
This is why I hate people.
I hate the insensitivity.
I hate their lack of empathy.
the manipulation…
But no…
I was not going to give her satisfaction. No way in hell was I going to feed her rotten ego. As it was well said, some people bring out the best in you while others bring out the worst, and this green-haired girl was not worthy of it.
"He is my angel." The words left my mouth so naturally, so serenely, and so beautifully articulated, tugging on the strings of my heart like never before.
The crowd was awed and hooted, hauling teaseful remarks at him, and when we locked gazes, his eyes shone with something that pulled me to him. He was pleased with my reply, but the she -devil was not pleased.
I could sense it; smell it, that she was not done yet.