Cowards Who Loved

HER STORY

We weren’t childhood friends. We met each other during our college days. We met and everything else was history. We became friends. We became more than friends. And we became strangers once again. Our story is nothing out of the ordinary.

It was an uneventful Friday when I first met him.

I was on my way to my friend’s place since she said she had something she wanted me to see. I had nothing else to do so I agreed. It was there that I met him. The details of how we ever got introduced to each other are vague for me. Either that or I somehow forgot all about it. Although I remember feeling inconvenienced because he knew my name and I didn’t know his. What I remember clearly was his smile. He smiled when he saw me and ranted on and on about stuff. I liked him instantly.

“Hey, Christie tells me you write. I read your stuff.”

“Uh, yeah I do. Thanks.”

“I came across one of your stories and I liked it a lot.”

At a loss for words, I just smiled.

It turned out that we had a lot in common. We share the same interests in books and other subject matters. Nevertheless, we bonded over books and movies and as the day was drawing to a close, I asked a friend about him.

“Seriously? He offered you his hand and introduced himself and you forgot his name? You practically bonded the instant you knew each other!” , my friend said.

“Well, you know me. Anyways, thanks for today. See ‘ya at school on Monday!”

And that was pretty much how it started. I knew then, I had found a new friend. What I didn’t know then was how important he would become for me.

Every Friday, we’d meet up at Christie’s house with other friends and spend time goofing around or studying, or playing cards. It was then that I’d really got to know him. What should have been mundane days became especially colorful ever since I knew him and we became close friends. But life got in the way and he had to go and change schools. I didn’t really think much of it then but I felt the loneliness afterwards. And so, what began as physical contact turned to virtual conversations. Separated by a screen, I guess both of us, in one way or another, became more open. What started out as early afternoon conversations before turned into late night texts and messages.

Psychology states that one becomes even more honest during late night conversations, because the body is tired. If so, I wonder if everything he said were true?

I remember telling him how happy I am when we talk. I remember telling him I love him and he told me he liked me too.

“Yo. I love you.”

“Huh, you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Wow, so sudden.”

“Response?”

“Er, well… I like you but long distance things are hard. And I don’t want to give both of us the illusion that this can work out.”

“HAHAHA! Okay.”

“Corny, I know.”

“No, I laughed because loving someone and wanting to have a relationship with someone are two different things.”

“HAHA. Okay, then.”

I didn’t know what to call our relationship and so I played along the lines, hoping that one day what started out as a game, would one day be real. But fantasies tire me and I chose to stay with the facts. He isn’t mine and I know it for a fact. I knew then, and I know it now.

“Who am I to you?” he asked one night.

I had an answer. But I gave him back his question.

“Don’t give me back my question without answering it!” he sounded mad.

I replied, “If I answer it, what good would it do to the both of us?”

“Nothing would change.” he texted back.

I didn’t reply.

I remember telling him I would always care, and I remember him thanking me. I remember every word he said. For me, he was the epitome of happiness and sadness all rolled into one. There is something about the way he talks that makes you want to listen to every word. There’s something about the way he walks that makes you want to take each step with him. There’s something about the way he laughs that brightens up your day. There’s something about how his brow furrows when he’s deep in thought that makes you want to look at his pretty face. There’s something about his smile that lifts all your worries away. There’s something about him. There’s something about him sitting beside you under the moonlight that made me say – what if?

I love him. I always will. But perhaps, he never did.


HIS STORY

I will never forget her. She was someone weird, beautiful, smart, engaging, and irritating at times. She is logical and she’s a realist, which sometimes bugs me because I am a fan of fantasies and I hate reality. She showed me that not all things can be dealt with fantasies and ideals. This world, is full of crazy possibilities, we just have to find it and hold on to it no matter what. Our story was ordinarily extraordinary. It was of two cowards trying to be brave but were too gutless in the end. It all started when I was visiting a friend. It was a Friday. And I remember every bit of it. I was chatting with my friend when she walked in. My friend introduced her and I knew right then; I knew we connected. She walked into the room and I smiled. I offered my hand and introduced myself.

“Hi, I’m Richard.”

She took it and we shook hands.

“Hey, Christie tells me you write. I read your stuff.”

“Uh, yeah I do. Thanks.”

“I came across one of your stories and I liked it a lot.”

She smiled once more and I noticed the dimples on her cheek. She’s cute!

She was a great conversationalist and it made me like her even more. We bonded over movies and books and our instant connection grew larger. We were strangers until then but like fate, we connected the moment we held hands. Everything started that day. Since then, I’d make up some lame excuse to just get the gang to hang out at Christie’s. We bonded every Friday at Christie’s place with mutual friends, partying, playing cards, or studying. I asked her lots of questions then, and she answered all. I liked every day with her. She was one of the jolliest persons I have had the opportunity of meeting. But life got in the way and I had to leave. We continued texting, though. There were miles between us, but only a screen to separate us. It was another uneventful night when she did something unexpected. I remember her confession as though it had just happened yesterday. It was nothing like I expected. She is by far, the most unpredictable girl I have ever met. When I first met her, I thought I knew her already. We have talked about a lot already, but she never seems to run out of ideas to talk about. She is the epitome of someone real, for me. Time passed and series of conversations started – late night conversations and texting. But even more time passed by and we had to do much important stuffs. Life, once again, got in the way. It was like everything around us is making us preoccupied.

“Hey?” I texted one night.

“Yeah?

“Nothing. You’ve been distant these past few days.”  I wonder if she noticed?

“Sorry.”

She says sorry a lot. I don’t really get it.

“No. I have been busy with my stuff too.” I replied.

“Huh? Hey?”

“Nothing. I’ve been busy with stuff and we haven’t been talking for a long time already.” It is true, I told myself. She didn’t reply after a few minutes, so I texted once more. “Hey?”

“I’ll always understand.” her words. She never ceases to amaze me.

I smiled and replied. “You never fail to cheer me up.”

“Awww, thanks. The feeling is mutual.”

My smile grew wider. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“I did something?” Yes you did, I thought to myself.

“Yep.”

“What did I do?”

“You made me happy.”

“I did nothing of the sort. What did I do that made you happy?”

“You care for me.”

“I’m sure your other friends do, too.”

“Nah. You’re different.”

I meant every word. I hope she knows. I am glad I met her. I am glad I bonded with her. It is sad we’re miles apart but I’m glad we had our memories. To this day, I still think about her. Not a day goes by that I tell myself, “Should I call her?” And not a day has gone by that I don’t also tell myself, “Maybe, tomorrow.” I am a coward. And she is not. I guess it might have been the reason I fell for her. She was, in many ways, like me. But she was also, in many ways, not me. She was always there for me. She knew me when others didn’t. I am sad of how our story turned out to be. But I am glad it happened. She is one of a kind. I love her. I always will. But perhaps, she never did.

 

Author’s note:

This was uploaded in hopes that I could finally let go.

 

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