Crimson Threads

Prologue

I took a deep breath as I scrutinized the young man before me. He avoided meeting my gaze, as if fearing I might consume him at any moment. "What do you want to talk about, Mr. Barbacenas?" I finally asked, sensing his agitation. He looked up at me and swallowed, unable to articulate his thoughts. "Speak up, Aiven. I can't read your mind," I prodded after a minute of his silence.

"I just want to know if..." He paused mid-sentence, swallowing again, closing his eyes. "If... true love exists?"

I blinked at his question, silently giggling, which earned me a frown. His reactions didn't deter me from laughing until a memory rushed to my mind. I shook my head with a smile. "How old are you again, young man?" I asked, prompting him to look at me.

"Why do you always focus on my age whenever I ask about true love?" he complained. I didn't respond, gazing at him for a few minutes until he gave in.

"Fine. I'm 16. Now, mock me again," he irritably said, rolling his eyes. Youth, always curious about matters they shouldn't be concerned with. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not a child, Ma'am Alde. Now, can you please answer my question?"

"Yes. True love exists," I replied succinctly. But instead of clarity, his annoyance deepened. "Why? I already answered your question."

"Care to explain?" he demanded, his frustration evident on his face.

"Well, true love exists, but not all true love stories have happy endings."

"How can you say so? Have you experienced heartbreak?"

"One doesn't have to be hurt by love to conclude that not all true love stories have happy endings..." I paused, locking eyes with him. He too possessed a distinctive pair of black irises that turned brown in the sunlight. "But yes, I also have my fair share of drama when it comes to love."

"That's why you choose to remain single?"

I looked at him in disbelief. "Perhaps you forget, Aiven, I am still your teacher." He mumbled an apology. "Is that the only reason you came to my office?"

"Did you get into another fight?"

"Because of Coleen."

I slapped my forehead hard after hearing the cause of his bruised lip. Youth these days. "Aiven, I think you've entered the wrong office. I'm not the guidance counselor..."

"I know, I just need some clarification about these confusing feelings," he paused, locking eyes with me, "but I guess I approached the wrong person." With that, he arrogantly walked to the door, leaving me stunned by his words.

I hurriedly left my office to catch up with him, seeking clarification on what he meant before he disappeared. Only a few seconds had passed, so I was sure he hadn't gone far. I quickly traversed the path he took, and indeed, I was right; I could still see him walking. I hastened to reach him.

As I caught up with him, I promptly grabbed his arm. In that moment, I regretted my impulsive decision. Questions were ready on my lips, but I halted as I looked into his eyes. Without a doubt, they were identical-color, shape, brow thickness, and eyelashes. My intention to inquire ceased when I read not irritation but sorrow in his eyes.

I am unaware of the loneliness he feels, but the expressions in his eyes trigger memories that infuriate me. It's not only the memories flooding back; the emotions I experienced during those times are surreal. And that's all because of his eyes...