Him, that came my way,
Because no one can love us like we do,
I, who could never say enough, that I love you.
Together we, will always stay!
MY FIRST FLASH FICTION [A REAL STORY STILL]
He sat there, so dissolved in the background, so invisible in this flashy place.
He was there too in the laboratory, I never noticed, but he was the one who corrected me.
And he walked along the road, with his friends, so lost and quiet. I saw him from behind without looking.
I always looked right through him!
And there he was, in the empty classroom with three other guys, one of which had distracted me from the mobile-phone conversation, pulled me in there and introduced me to the other three. He was one of them. I could not help but notice.
I kept asking them questions. Them three. He was the one who intrigued me the most. I was in my regular mischievous manner, pulling their legs, some people I had not known for more than 5 minutes. I was the one laughing and creating lame jokes. But he was the one I was careful with.
He showed me to that awesome bookstore and me, the outspoken tomboy I am, told him everything happening around me. And that was all he needed. He knew me well since then. And we were the best of friends since then. He guarded me and my emotions.
We were at the beach with some other friends that day. That day, when our friendship was still tender. I was the mischievous one. He refused to come into the sea with us. “I have my new shoes on, it’ll take a lot of efforts to take them off and put them back on” he said calmly. I forced him more. He refused, and I pushed him further, but he never relented. I was mad at him. I turned the bottoms down of chilled water bottle on his head.
“That’s what you needed”, he said.
And I realized I was not as mad at him as he was at me. But I could never know, because he was so calm, so quiet. You will never see his anger as I have seen it in his eyes. His pain, he never cries, but is clear in his eyes. His delight, his passion, his love, is all in his eyes. They speak, they really do.
I called him “so-called-best friend” and he instantly came back with, “It hurt.”
And all my anger washed away. He had the guts enough to say he was hurt even when he was mad at me. And I knew he was something I was never letting go of.
Even though he had a bad grammar, and was not confident around people.
He never felt bad when I corrected his language. Does he ever get offended?
He was the one who readily joined me in my lone trips around the town. He loved adventures as much as I did. He was the one who spoke with me and understood what I was like. He was the one who was very much like me, yet very different.
He sat there with me in the quiet.
Uncomfortable, he must have been. He asked “Why?”
“Because it hurts.” And I sobbed deep inside. He probably heard them from even the deepest inside possible. And so, he did not utter a word after that.
He hated rains, I loved them, so there he sat on the park bench watching me enjoy to my heart’s content. He smiled as if he was happy, because I was.
He was the one who remembered the small details, the important ones. He never judged me and loved me for who I was. He knew what made me mad and what I loved. He knew when to use sarcasm.
He found a stick on the ground and saved it for God-only-knows-what. He hit me on the forehead with it when I seemed to be lost in my own world. He was the one who brought me to earth when I got lost.
We had dirty inside jokes. We kept looking for really sexy people for each other, but we both know we would be jealous if either of us were in a relationship. It killed me to not tell him about mine. But I could not, because even I wasn’t sure.
All I know about this is we would break bones of someone who broke either of our hearts.
And he probably doesn’t know how I fight the urge to not go and slap those girls who play with him.
And I do get jealous of his other female friends.
He handled my mood shifts so well, I could never be sad around him. “You always make me happy.” Is what I told him every time we bid our goodbyes.
I hate not talking with him, for any reason.
He hated me lying to him. “You don’t really tell me everything these days, do you?” he said once, when I was not sure if I could tell him what I wasn’t telling him then. But he knew. And he gave me space and time to make sure I came out of the confusion. That was when I thought I might probably love him. Of course I did, but our love was not that love.
He told me things he had never told others. I know what hurts him, and he knows too. We know about each other as much as we know about ourselves.
We just know. And that is how our love is.
He let me wonder, but he brought me right back, holding my hand when I seemed to wander at the wrong places.
We hold hands, yes. And I hugged him that day, because I knew I wasn’t going to see him for a long while now.
And that is why I love him. Because he hugged me back, and we still weren’t a couple. All he said was thanks. And all I said was thank. Because we couldn’t say goodbye.
We never like saying those goodbyes, but then, Good Byes are the only perfect thing we get, don’t we?
We are buddies for life. Friends forever, our promise stays intact. Our promise gets stronger with every joke, every laugh. And the promise could never break. We could stay like this till death did us apart!
And that is ALL I know about him. My best friend.
P.S.: I could still go on and on about you. I love you. You will always be “the one”. Nobody ain’t taking that place! :*
The word warrior©
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