Summoning Silences : The SuperNova ✔

III

Part I
Chapter - 3

I had suggested the first thought on my mind, but I realized later that I have not even the money to pay for myself, if he planned to go visit some chain store. I did, but I kept it at home. Though, Nova led the way through some crowded lanes, not stopping anywhere.

We were in front of a little toy shop, between the shop and an abandoned garage to be peculiar; when he stopped, and inquired me with a single gaze. He was asking me to explain everything I had done in the past few days.

Or perhaps he questioned himself as to why I wished to get sucked into his ceaseless whirlpool of torment.

“You were good, but now you don’t talk to anyone. I wondered what happened. Yeah, that is it. That is what I wished to ask.”

He was indifferent to the question. He spoke, still using his courteous tone. “Angsty teenage stuff. My turn. Why me?”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked why me,” he repeated. “Why are you only observing me? Why do you wish to concern yourself at all?”

“Because.” I did not need to think to respond to that. “You are not alright, are you? Is there something going on at home?”

I broke him a little. “No. Do you really think anyone would respond to the question you put up?” It was the second time. He looked, all the same, he did while talking to Nina that day. Like some ignorant breeze blowing through a crisis, trying to ease it down, surging it’s ashes higher all the while.

“Will you?”

“Perhaps, no.” His eyes had gone rheumy. Just enough to make me doubt it.

He left afterwards. I watched him, internally debating whether I should stop him or not. But it was too late till I had come up with a decision. Then in my way, I remembered what mom had told me. Don’t be too persistent, she had said.

I could not focus on anything that day. I was the most numb I had been in a long while. Why me, he had asked. I was not so pure-hearted to do it out of sheer goodwill myself. Then why did I even bother myself?

My reasoning was misted. But I knew it had something to do with my own internal ego. He said he had parents. Everyone knew he came from a good family. He had people to talk to. He had no possible reason to shame him when he was amongst a crowd. He did not feast on cheap meat and broth. He was happy. I was the one far worse than he could ever imagine being. Yet, why did he make my heart pity his circumstances? Was it not an unspoken norm to shade your woe under the drapes of arrogance? Why display it so frankly? Everything he did seemed to cackle at the ways I have been trying to expend my life, and I detested it.

I decided that I would not reach out to him, not look at him, and not speak to him. If he was not willing to reach out a hand, even when I was hanging from the thinnest chords of bets to help him, I could not do much for him.

I had not expected him to not make a move. Resentment rolled in me, uncaging in my chest. I had wasted my time, indulging in business I was not meant to. I made the mistake mom did. It was infuriating, but the acknowledgment that it was my fault, weighed heavier.

Then one day we were set in teams again, only he was against me. I left the baskets that I had to snatch from him directly, and soon was benched. He asked to be substituted in the following half too.

He sat beside me.

“Are you angry? Mad at me?” he asked.

“Why? Why would I be mad at you?” I was beating around the bush. “Do you think that there will be a reason to?”