The eternality in our ephemerality

Chapter 11. An unknown hoodie for my favourite bracelet, an excelent trade.

"Well, you might be a little surprised at this, but I entered private property" I spoke in a bloodshot "Well, the woods were private property"

"You what?" His amazement was impressive: his hoodie, almost tattooed to his flesh, almost sparkled just as his eyes currently were, looking at me, staring and objectifying that 'I am in no condition of doing that'.

His thoughts remained sealed in his mouth, but unlike my eyes, I knew that he dismissed my doings; he is the one who's savageness and recklessness defines him: I am the one who seals his wounds when they fire back....But he is also my best friend, most loyal and judgemental than ever, despite our diverting, remains there. Regardless of how the 'best friend' title was obtained, he is sweet and mostly can endure my endless chatter as well as clumsiness and craziness. I adore him and for someone who is always floating in the clouds, i could use a friend who will always pull me back.

"Trust me, it was no way near fun: I learned that locking yourself inside the woods is not the best idea; I was debating myself about what to do." His eyes infuriated "before you say anything" I interrupted "yes I know I should've left it open but I felt bad for the policemen that a crazy teenager got to pick their locker and open it with a pin! It was just mean if I left it open! So I kept it closed..." And ended my monologue as swiftly as I could...

I had never censured information: now, it was as difficult an introduction as the one I had with my unwitting host: secret and duplicitous.

How he was only wearing, what I suppose was, a jacket despite the glacial whether that caused squirrels to flee and owls to hush....The deafening reminder that he took me out of the wooden cage but placed me carelessly in his plain and detached bedroom...In one occasion he is proved to have a heart filled with compassion, in the other: an indifferent one careless about my doings: an incomplete task such as an afflicted heart would at least be suspected to be followed up by a mere grace of cordiality.

He allowed his heart to be touched by mine...and then neglected the act.

I teased andrew for being a fuckboy, but he at least walked me home...

That futile smile that will entrance a shallow damsel and admire the result of brackets and puberty creating glitter instead of sweat.

I felt the graphic representation of bluebirds spinning above my head...he, after thoughtful consideration of my apathy, decided it was time to interrupt my thunderstorm.

"You should've kept it open" he reminded me again "I am sorry I just had to say it"

"Go on" I encouraged: tilting my indifference into a smile "Say them...I know you want to"

"Oh! I told you!" His lips barked, subtly turning into a smile. Mine laughed.

"I am sorry" he began, still hovering in between laughs...then silence overshadowed the mood "Maybe... you are just sad and mad that Sean and you...are no more." I smiled at him sweetly, his shamelessness grew.

"Was my impression not vivid enough for you?" I replied, laughing as I said so.

He huffed, "Look, I know that I will never get what you're strange, bizarre mind always goes through" My eyes fell on his "but maybe it is time for you to lower your standards and stop waiting for princes in frogs. We cant say we warned you"

"We?" I questioned

"Okay fine, I. I can't say I warned you. I told you he was trouble, i know my kind"

My eyes caught his: a delicate smile from him and a furrowed, insensitive frown from me: I happened to be discouraged by his words.

"Ey ey don't give me that face!" I stuck my tongue out; he hit it back "Hey! Ale, you are very pretty and super smart, you know what's best for you! Take me as example, take all my failed relationships as example" Her shuddering chords expanded through my lips as a trembling wave of gloom: luck, also, had never been encouraged to him, this was simply another scar in his polluted heart: the heart I owned, fragmented and scared, swollen by his words. I hugged his sorrowed mind with warm hands and the thick layers of hoodies and leather jackets and one night stands slowly faded away from the ice cube he had for heart. However; It was true: I suffered his romantic tragedy with Mary as vivid as if it were my own: a soap opera without commercials or the slightest bit of hope. His heart, after such tempest, surrendered into a taciturn landscape of grey tonalities, a heartbroken soul that despite the shallowness in it, despite the superficiality in one am kisses and just party necessity, he cannot be fixed. Trust me, I've tried. That wound Mary left him and he left mary was such a wound that continues to terrify him, so he locks his heart behind a cell.