Chapter 46

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."

William Shakespeare.

Chasing after him was a lost cause, for all he did was give me the cold shoulder. Evidently, I wanted to have a conversation with him, a calm discussion that did not result in thousands of misunderstandings, that needed to be cleared up over the course of fifteen chapters. Somehow, I knew that everything would fall into place, allowing our friendship to emerge from the rumble, which was my chaotic life.

However, I could never get him alone. Like I predicted, he was bombarded with an unnecessary amount of attention that all in all, was utterly ridiculous. Girls would hand him presents with the most brightest of smiles, twirling their hair and tilting their heads. Despite me being present, he'd stare at me, smirk on his face, eyebrows raised.

If Wyatt really wanted to put on a show, he'd even give them a kiss on the cheek.

Anger flared through me and the fact that I had to mask it, made it seem as though I were fanning the flames that were already captured within a cage. Was it jealousy? Was this envy or annoyance? It was indescribable that's for sure, the way this anger amplified the moment the perfect boy would ignore me and focus on one those.... horrible people

"They're not horrible people," my inner voice says. "Don't be mad at them for being able to share their feelings."

"I would if I could," I think, "but I can't just approach him out of nowhere; it has to be special."

"You do realise you have to do this today right? I'm getting tired of all this stalling," my inner voice yawns.

"I know..." I internally sigh. "I know."

...

Sitting on the crimson-red, dust-covered chairs, Red and I eat biscuits, chatting about the most random of things. Light-brown boxes still remain scattered across the scratched floor boards, and the shredded portraits, painted with the most palest of colours, are tossed into dark corners where our eyes didn't dare to look. Beside me, is the dim-lit lamp that emits a muted-yellow. The pathway of illumination shining throughout a fragment of the room, the smithereens of grime visible.

In front of me, Red was rambling about his childhood memories. Blonde-hair swept back, ocean-blue eyes stoic as he recalls the memories with such fondness. Hands rested behind his head, Red puts his feet up on one of the boxes, a slight thump caused as he did so. Watching him with a playful smile, I listen intently, occasionally nodding my head when I'm absolutely lost. Of course, he manages to draw me back into his little world, sporadically rising to his feet in order to reenact these moments of joy.

"You look so happy," I think. "So at one with the universe. I guess I can say that you are a heart because your body doesn't define you. Only your steady rhythm. You are the cardiovascular metronome that drives the soul forward."

"So dramatic," my subconscious mutters, rolling its eyes.

"Blue, are you listening?" Red questions, looming over me. These are one of the particular instances when he's on his feet, pretending to be his ten year-old self again.

Clearing my head, I answer with the most genuine, upbeat tone:

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

Red narrows his eyes, pulling his chair just so he can observe me meticulously. Clasping his hands in front of him, he straightens his back, portraying that his intentions are serious. Stifling my laughter, I acknowledge the purity behind this act and submit to him.

"Are you sure? You're here but your mind isn't. I can sense that and I'm trying to bring your attention back with jokes and whatever, but I know that the true essence of your thoughts is somewhere else. It's with someone else," Red concludes.

Smiling sheepishly, I shrug, not wanting him to get the wrong idea and surmise that his friendship is inferior to Wyatt's. I won't degrade him or diminish him just because I'm torn between what is wrong and right. Want and need.

"I'm here," I reassure him. "I'm always here."

"Yeah," Red mumbles, head bowed. "You're always here until you're with him."

"What?"

"Think about it," he says, making eye contact with me and regaining his composure, "whenever you're with me, it's fun and games, it's so easy and light-hearted and honestly, peaceful. Yet when you're with Wyatt, you're on edge, half of the time confused and in short, uncertain."

"Wyatt and I have our moments," I state, brows furrowed.

"I know but wouldn't it be so much better to choose the easier option? the option that hurts less and prospers more?" Red pleads, making an attempt to persuade me.

"Red..." I begin.

"Why chase after a guy, who doesn't even know where he's going in life?" He interrupts. "Wyatt's so divided between Heather and you it's disgusting. Heather, the girl who he was in a toxic relationship with and you, who okay, has had their slip ups but is kind, courageous, brave and honest."

Tapping my foot, I replay his little monologue in my head, clicking the pieces that fit together and the pieces that need more justification. I'm tracing the outline, in hope that I comprehend the predicament we're facing. And all I can gather from his speech is:

"He has an ulterior motive, doesn't he?"

"Why are you doing this?" I inquire.

"Because he's not good for you? Because he comes into your life and causes so many problems, it's unbelievable?"

"You don't know me," I retort.

"Blue, listen-"

"You. Don't. Know. Me," I reiterate, standing to my feet and grabbing my bag. "See you in class."

"Hey!"

Darting past the large congregations, I receive several dirty looks. However, none of them matter as much as the distance I put between him and I. There are times where I slow down and recover, quickly gaining the velocity I once had. Staggering into corridor after corridor, staircase after staircase, I proceed to sprint away. I'm becoming paranoid, thinking that I hear his footsteps but when turning around, I find that there are no sounds, on the contrary, it's completely isolated.

Climbing the next step of stairs I come across, I realise that I'm at the P.E. department. I don't question why it's so empty, why there's no students or teachers, I just continue on my journey, crossing my fingers and wishing that I hadn't been so irrational.

And that's when I hear it.

"You're her friend? You're not her friend! You only feel sorry for her!"

Turning a corner, I catch a glimpse of Heather Marie. She stands there, a meter away from Wyatt, who has his back to me. Her blue eyes are fixated on his emerald-green ones, and her words are stern but face is soft.

He's fallen for her once, I don't know what's stopping him from doing it again.

"I don't feel sorry for her, she's my friend; the first real friend I've had in a long time. I'm not throwing that away for you and I'm definitely not getting back together with you," he retorts.

They're arguing?

Oh, I see.

Heather wants to them to date again.

And he's refusing...

Because of me?!

"She's long gone, Wyatt," Heather insists. "Valentina's a lost cause."

"No," he says. "You're the lost cause, not her."

"What do you see in her?!"

"Everything you're not!"

Bowing her head, Heather exhales deeply. I'm guessing the humiliation got to her because she's blushing vibrantly. Noticing this, I contemplate why she's so embarrassed.

Then I realise.

She's seen me.

Her arms wrap around his neck, forehead resting against his. Licking her lips, she stares up at him, innocence portrayed within the small gesture. And when there's finally a slither of air between their lips, she whispers:

"I know you like her, but Valentina doesn't have anything to do with us.."

"Stop," is the abrupt reply.

"What?"

"I said 'stop.' I don't want this," he repeats.

"You can't stop!" Heather shouts.

"Well you can't make me either," Wyatt responds.

I sense that he's going to pop round the corner, and I am proven right when he rapidly jogs past, running down the staircase and pushing open the double-doors without a second glance.

When gone, Heather asks:

"Are you happy now? He likes you."

Revealing myself, I remain standing a couple meters away from her, incase she tries anything.

"I-I...umm..."

"Shut up," she says. "Shut up!"

Permitting her to think for a while, I then say:

"He never said he liked me."

Eyes twitching, she bites her bottom lip and then cackles.

"Are you stupid? It was there between the lines! He's in love with you and doesn't give two sh!ts about me!" She cries. "You've ruined everything!"

"I didn't mean to," I stammer, backing away as Heather approaches me.

"Yes you did!"

The next thing I know, I'm tumbling down a set of steps. Crash after crash, thud after thud. All the while, she's just witnessing the whole ordeal, breathing heavily, fists bawled as she leans on the banister of the landing.

When I finally reach the bottom, all she says is: 'oh crap' and speed walks away.

Guess I'm gonna have to take another trip to the nurse's office.

...

Apricot-orange streaks inhabit the sky, blending into the pastel-reds and butterscotch-yellows. Birds harmonise and couples relish in the tranquility of nature. Traffics stills, the only audible sound is the soft hum of an engine. Chatter occurs, words are exchanged but the pain in my body tears me away from the scenery. The silence between us is deafening and I feel as if it is my responsibility to take the blame. To own the wretched mistake.

Wyatt offered to accompany me home since the accident did cause severe injuries. With my arm broken and ribs fractured, I was allowed to miss classes and stay in the nurse's office. Clearly, I couldn't deny such a proposal because frankly, I wouldn't be able to look my friends in the eye and tell them what happened.

Inevitably, I couldn't escape them and the perfect boy ended up having to take me home. How pathetic am I?

"Well, Val," Wyatt says, eyes filled with tears, "see ya on Monday."

"Yeah, see ya."

I watch him go, ambling off into our neighbourhood. Two people, going their separate ways.

Nonetheless, I can't help but think;

"Everything is so intense with you. From the way you motivate me, to the way you inspire me. From the way you care for me, to the way you bring out the best in me. You're a sea of emotions, placid one instant, a tempest the next. You have no steady rhythm, no exact pace and although the latter sometimes perplexes me, I take the initiative to invest in you. I permit you to consume my time, my thoughts, until you are the only thing left. The seasons change, we change, but our affection exists entirely on its own, away from the rest of the world. I...care about you. I admire you."

"So what are you waiting for?"

He stumbles away, sun fading, darkness creeping in. The stars are always out but they shine brightest at night. This is one of the phrases I once heard and now I understand.

Everything has its time.

Everything is waiting for the right moment to be apart of the universe.

And this is mine.

Clearing my throat, I scream:

"Wyatt, I have something to give you!..."