Chiara's mistake was talking to him for the first time, Jasper's mistake was confessing the truth to her.
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Chiara led a monotonous and uneventful life until she met the enigmatic Jasper...
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He was reading that day, as usual. It wasn't a fancy hardcover book with a nice engraving on the side, but rather, it looked almost like a notebook—black, rugged, and covered in scratches. Despite its appearance, he seemed to be engrossed in its contents. He seemed so captivated.
Lately, I had been noticing his presence even before getting on the bus. It was as if he had become a part of my daily commute. Whether it was at night or in the early morning, everything outside the windows looked hazy. The streetlights flickered dimly and the buildings loomed like shadowy giants. The world outside seemed to be shrouded in a mysterious veil.
The bus was totally jam-packed, way more than usual. It was as if fate had aligned the stars to give me the perfect chance. I toyed with the idea of sitting next to him, which I never would have even thought about before, but something felt different that day. As I stood there, lost in thought, I felt a push from behind, and nearly stumbled into the seat directly behind my crush. The scent of his hair was slightly bitter, like unsweetened tea, but I found it oddly appealing.
It was my first time being so close to him, he seemed so calm and collected all the time, so inside his own mind. I found myself leaning closer to see what he was writing in his notebook. However, as I peered over, I realized that the words were nothing more than scribbles on the pages, something someone would consider handwriting. As I sat there, I couldn't shake the feeling of chills running down my spine. It was a sensation that I had felt many times before, particularly when I was a child and I was doing something I wasn't supposed to.
It's funny how those feelings seem to disappear as you grow up.
Until they come back twice as strong one day.
It gave me shivers, like a bad omen. I didn't care. Trying to decipher the words on the paper suddenly became the most important part of the bus ride. I leaned to the side, playing it cool at first, longing to understand a little more about him. Once again, he seemed completely oblivious to the strange girl who kept trying to spy on what could very possibly be his private diary.
The words on the page appeared to flutter in front of my eyes and change each time I blinked. I rubbed my eyes, hoping to clear my vision, but they only became blurrier. It was as if the words were alive, dancing and shifting before my eyes in a mesmerizing display. The movement of the letters was almost hypnotic. It was a strange sensation, and for a moment I wondered if there was something wrong with my eyes. However, I quickly realized that I was able to see everything else around me in perfect detail, including my companion's reflection in the window to our right.
As I watched him read, I noticed his expression was quite focused and he seemed to be deep in thought, biting his lip. Frowning, as if he didn't really like what he was reading. It made me wonder why he would choose to read something that he wasn't satisfied with, especially if it was written by himself judging by the sloppy handwriting. What could be the reason behind his decision to read something that he wasn't happy with?
