He was barely looking at me. Constantly fidgeting with his hands, he rambled on and there came a point when I wasn't sure he was aware of my presence, staring at his face, desperately trying to sit still and hear him out. I definitely needed answers. Some or any answers justifying him and proving me wrong, again. There are times when I wish that my intuition is working on the wrong frequency and is unable to connect with the reality. But unfortunately, all my worst fears come true and since, the feeling was apparently intense back then, I could feel myself trembling in fear on what was to come.
Apologies. Apologies. And more apologies. Was there anything else to say? I could feel myself heating up, ready to call it quits, blinded by rage of an expected outcome. He was talking of the events that led to him being in that uncomfortable situation with the girl and yet, I was far too ahead of him, already imagining them together and feeling as miserable as I could. I could forgive him and looking back now, it was, obviously, the right thing to do so. But I simply did not want to. I wanted to assault him, mentally and physically, just to let him feel a fraction of what was happening to me. I was wondering how much he would suffer when he sees me following in his footsteps and hanging out with some random guy off the street. Oh the sweet revenge!
"..I..I just...just don't want to lose you. And it already killing me to realize that you won't ever trust me again. I..I am sorry..I.." blinking furiously, he buried his face in his hands and kept still. That was his way of grieving : isolation and burning in self-guilt. The realization hit me like a slap on my face. The feelings of revenge dragged themselves into their burial grounds in my heart and the evil twin choked and fainted. I, sitting motionless, looked at him with a loss of words. My mind stopped working with information overload and the congestion caused by all the hateful feelings was suddenly cured with a revelation, tainted with guilt. I accused him. Of everything he would rather die than do. Or was that the case? Can the tears be as fake as he had become during the time we spent apart? What was the truth, the reality? What was I supposed to do? Will it not be better to simply sit back and do nothing rather than go ahead and do something stupid to look back on with regret for the rest of my days? Why did I even come here?
He straightened himself, frowned and then looked me in the eye with a questioning glance. Searching for an answer to his over-grown fears, he sought a refuge into the very eyes he had grown used to. I could see he was tired of thinking too much.Mentally exhausted of contemplating a situation he could do nothing to alter. He could but then, he isn't mentally aware of himself or things around him. He is just...typically himself. The feeling of familiarity, of knowing every little detail about this guy, sitting in front of me, warmed my heart. He appeared so vulnerable that it took all the strength I had to not throw myself over him and breathe in his ears the words that he so longed to listen. Not just say it, I wanted him to believe that everything WILL be fine and there was nothing worth the worry and the trouble he was putting himself through and that it...it killed me to see him like this. I couldn't take it. Not anymore.
I decided that the questions were enough and answers were not needed.
[ To be continued... ]
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