Love? A Disaster

♪ 28 (a): L(ove)abyrinth ♪

He was sorting his media shelf with a frown marring his face. Adjusting his glasses, he rummaged through the collection but it failed to bring him the joy he always associated with it. Instead, his thoughts were all over the place, confusion and a hint of annoyance.

And hurt. Yeah, top of the list.

His life was on the track he had always wanted for it. Dream school, chosen career line; he was ready to turn his passion into his living. He should've been over the moon, not an ounce of doubt should've crossed his mind, and nothing should have been allowed to dim the light in his eyes.

About that.

His movement halted as his scowl deepened. Pursing his lips, he sat down on the couch when he heard the footfalls outside his room.

He craned his neck in the direction of the door but he didn't have to see who was here, he knew, an expertise he had acquired over the years.

Alina pushed her hair out of her face and gave him a waned smile. Osama didn't reciprocate it. He would've if she hadn't been ghosting him for the past two days.

"You finally got the time out of your busy schedule to see your boyfriend." He drawled, turning around to continue with the task that had lost its importance the moment she walked through the door.

"What kept you occupied? As far as my meager knowledge goes, you didn't have much going on. If something important came up, I'd love to know."

"Osama—"

Her tone was pleading but his hurt was all-encompassing. He even refused to look at her. Alina took an uncertain step forward but it seemed there was a chasm between them, ready to swallow her. But he could see neither its depth nor its vastness.

"Do you realize I'm leaving in less than a week? Life for both of us is going to be different. We'll have to navigate through hectic schedules, different time zones, and so much more. But here, I haven't left yet and you already seem distant and—"

"That's what I'm here for." Alina interrupted him, causing him to look at her with a hint of foreboding.

She fiddled with her shirt sleeves and gnawed at her bottom lip. "I...Osama....I don't...maybe..."

"What?" He was agitated. She closed her eyes momentarily and nodded as if telling herself this was a good thing to do, the only thing to do, perhaps.

"I don't think long distance is a good idea." She blurted out. Words that she had rehearsed for hours in her room.

But for him, they came tumbling out as if no practice was needed. As if she was relieved to propose this. As if she wanted nothing but this.

"Are you out of your mind?" Osama all but shouted, the first for him, and her as well. She flinched back but stood her ground. "Think about it. We—"

"Wait a damn second. There's no 'we' here. Just you. It's about you, Alina. Don't project it on me when I'm ready to do this for as long as I have to."

"How can you be so certain?"

His eyes blazed. She had never seen him this angry, least of all at her. Wrong thing to say. Just tell him the reason, her mind shouted. This isn't going to end well if you lose yourself in translation of your excuses. But her words remained muted. How difficult is it to admit that you are the problem? He wasn't wrong in his assertion but she was also bleeding everywhere.

"How can I be certain? Because newsflash, Alina, I fucking love you, that's why. That's the only surety I need. But seems like that is not the case with you." He ran a hand through his hair. She tried to take to step forward but stayed rooted to her spot.