sunder || punznap

sunder

The air in Brooklyn Bridge was filled with the smell of melting snow and the first buds, the sky was gray and dull, heavy as lead, as it always is. No wonder, Luke thought, and shivered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his light jacket. A small puff of steam escaped from the boy's mouth. He stepped from foot to foot. Until spring had come into its own and it was still cool outside. Not so cold as to freeze, but he stood literally in one position for almost twenty minutes and a slight coolness turned into freezing cold, at least for him. Kate was late, however, as always. And the blond hated people who were not punctual.

And Kate was the epitome of unpunctuality, he would have been surprised if she had arrived on time. He noticed her as soon as she appeared at the other end of the path. Her bright silhouette in a puffy lilac jacket was rapidly approaching, she ran, smiled and waved her hand at him, her long black hair fluttering behind her, whipping the girl's jacket and arms. She seemed like a ray of sunshine on a gloomy day, a mirage in the desert. Such a sunny, summerlike, the perfect one, the guy continued to repeat to himself. But for some reason, somewhere deep in his heart, it was unpleasantly drawn...

With a forced smile, he answered her enthusiastic exclamation with a greeting, she threw herself into his arms with a loud joyful squeal, he caught her, hugged her warm small figure with his frozen hands and buried his nose in soft jet-colored hair, hair that smelled of some sweet perfume, but he wished it was light and smelled like cheap shampoo, the smell of which he was somehow used to.

"Are you cold?" Kate blurted out, taking Luke's hand in hers and interlacing her fingers with his. "I'm sorry, I lost track of time again, and you, I see, are frozen. You don't have to say anything. Let's go to a coffee shop, there's a great one nearby!"

She slowly, but stubbornly, pulled him towards the exit from the park, not even bothering to hear the answer. He hated coffee. And he hated holding hands, and the smell of her perfume made his nose itch and his eyes watered, and her infantile behavior at times drove him crazy.

"Let's just go for a walk in the park." He sighed and shivered. Better to freeze to death than listen to her endless chatter about everything in the coffee shop and look at her with pseudo-love eyes. Hold hands and pretend he really listens to her stories. "And then we'll see."

"Of course." She looked up at him with her dull green eyes and smiled, clasping his hand in hers. "You know, I found such a great series..."

Luke looked at the girl and did not understand why he simply could not fall in love with her? Why, why does he complicate everything? After all, God, she is so perfect: kind, sunny, funny, terribly tiny and fragile compared to him. Luke's parents fully approved of his choice, and any parents would have approved of Kate - from a good family, a student, the best in the course, a former ballerina, just miss perfection. But for some reason, it was sticky and sick inside, and the conscience in the back of his mind kept saying that he was using her. And he answered conscience with mute silence, broke down and shouted, stuffed rags into its mouth, if only it would shut up. But still it kept whispering.

I don't use her, I love her.

The blond nodded at the pace of Kate's incessant speech, smiling, sometimes answering in monosyllables, asking simple questions, just so that the black-haired girl did not think that he was not listening, that his mind was somewhere far away. And that they are now walking through the park together so happy, but he does not represent her at all.

A chestnut-haired guy in a worn hoodie and jeans stretched out on his knees, a guy who could make him laugh with just a glance, a guy on a skateboard with whom Luke would have wanted to run to the ends of the world. And he ran, tried to keep up, tried, and then, breathless, disheveled, in tears and snots, Kate picked him up, cleaned him up and put him on his feet. Is that how he answers her? Ungrateful, just a bastard, Luke thought reproachfully.