XVII: The crazy storm named You-and-I

Imagine two people on an ECG tracing shaped roller-coaster ride: went up, went down, peaked to the top, and then crashed.

* * * * *

“…I think they know about the little something we have,” you whispered through a partial smile.

“Little something we have?” He asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t we…? Aren’t we…?”

“What?” He asked, his confusion bubbling.

“Isn’t there something between us?”

“What is it?”
“Oh.” You said, stopping in an uninspired tone. You started to look defeated, as if you wanted to choke him for being so dense. “I guess I just assumed…”

“Assumed what? Complete your sentences, for sanity’s sake!”

“Assumed we had something! That we were a thing!” An angry tone escaped you, catching him off-guard.

He would normally talk endlessly about things you could never talk about with anyone else, yet at this moment, the silence was deafening – all he did was stare.

He didn’t know what to say – was it immature to admit that he couldn’t understand, why after everything he’s been through – how this still felt very alien? “Oh…” he trailed off.

You grabbed his face angrily and kissed him as his world started burning. “I know you feel something,” you said breathlessly. “Let me in.”

* * * * *

He’s nervous. He wanted to ask you to hang out but was afraid of rejection. Why has it always been this way? He wondered.

He wondered if there were other people who felt the same way he did: being terrified of finding out that you’re not as important as you thought you were – how you’ve made your world revolve around something, only to find out that that something did not even want you around.

“You want to see me, don’t you?” Your voice was sparkling through the voice box like a breath of fresh air. “Don’t you?” You continued to tease.

His laughter was nervous and dotted. “You got me,” he said with a smile – relieved of his morbid thoughts.

“You simply have to ask,” you said. “I’d come running if it was you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he said, stifling a pink giggle.

“I mean it,” you deadpanned to make yourself sound extremely serious.

“Really?” He lightened up.

“Meet me at the noodle place, 6PM.”

“Got it.” He curled his fist in anticipation, smiling uncontrollably.

“Don’t be late!” You plunged the call off as he sighed out in comfort.

He’s relieved how well that worked.

* * * * *

Everything started to go down when you started to control him. What drove you to become manipulative, he does not know.

For the first part, he thought there was something wrong with him – until words came out of your mouth, how you screamed like a banshee: “What do you want?!”

You knew what he wanted – and he knew where this was coming from. You can’t let go of the idea that he’s cheating on you. The way you spoke so condescendingly made him decide not to defend himself; you’ve already had the theories laid out on your head and he knew these were the only things you’d believe.

“I don’t know how to assure you,” he said. “I don’t know. But I know I want you and I want this to work,” he continued.

“Liar,” you said with contempt.

He kept his mouth shut.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, looking down on him as if he’s trash.

He returned a question. “Is this what makes you happy? Keeping me the underdog? You know that’s not how this should work.”

“I’m not trying to do anything, you fucking cheater,” you said.

“You’ve already went through everything: my mail, my Facebook, my phone – what else should I give?” He asked, his voice shaking – scared.

“That’s the problem – you allowed me to look at all those, yet you’re still hiding things from me!”

“I am not!” The look on your face was different. Was it because you didn’t expect him to shout like that?

He wiped the corner of his eye. “You’ve gone through everything, love – everything. But you keep interpreting everything wrong. I talk to people, that’s kind of how people live. They talk.”

You sat there in awe. He held your hand and you let him. “Just because I talk to them doesn’t mean I like them that way. Come on, you’re old enough to know that…” he said.

“But it scares me,” you said. “It scares me that someone else might fall in love with you.”

“Me? Fall in love with me?” He said, smiling as his mood lightens. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not.” His tone didn’t even change yours – you still sounded serious.

“They won’t. And you’ve seen how I keep telling people I’m already seeing someone – that someone is you,” he pointed to your heart as he ended – and things went smoothly from there.

* * * * *

Nothing ever changes, does it? He contradicted even his own beliefs.

The issue never really ceased, but instead, had decided to take on a different course.

“How much space do you really want, huh?” You asked. “It’s been a week and I miss you so bad – how could you go on that long without talking to me?”

He kept his mouth shut.

“You’ve already found someone new, haven’t you?” You asked.

Silence.

“Speak!” You screamed. “How could you do that?”

He couldn’t bear the thought of talking back at you – but he sure wanted to. Where had the person – the person that piqued his interest to the extent of passion went? He thought to himself, basically ignoring all the rant you were blabbering.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” You asked, making his head shoot up.

He knew he still did. He doesn’t know why – but maybe it’s because he keeps looking at the good, even when the bad had obviously taken over.

He’s decided to be realistic.

“I am –” his voice broke as he cleared his throat. “I am still in love with you,” he said. “But I no longer see a future with you. Does that make sense?”

You cried, and everything went down from there.

“Why does this keep happening to me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“I’m not leaving you,” he said. “We’re not even together.” He stressed. “But love, I still want this to work – you have to listen to me.”

“No,” you said, your tone light and different. “I don’t want someone who doesn’t see a future with me – I’m too old to be playing games like that.”

“Games?!” He asked, mad. He was going to fight for you one last time – but decided not to. He caught himself in his welling anger and breathed it out.

You’ve already set your mind, and he knew he couldn’t change that.

“Just go,” you said with finality.

“Alright. You win,” – and then he left. He wanted to look back, but he stopped himself.

* * * * *

Advertisements