The Fierce Flame

52||Jealousy?

Target:700votes✨

[November,2018]

They say school life is the best. They also say school friends are your true friends.

Friends? Who are these people? The silly kids, strapping the friendship bands on their wrists, making promises of sticking together no matter what. The same kids stepping into teenage, holding each other's hands since the world is their enemy. Parents are annoying. They don't understand us. My friend does.

The same silly kids, crossing the rebellious days, letting go of their first infatuations, giving up on crushes, drunk on insecurities, holding themselves when breakdowns happen. Who stands beside you? My friend. Because we share the same situation, the same feelings, the same feeling of being trapped. The tiny hearts holding the blaze of rebellion against the world.

The hands that were interlaced, the shackle of promise loosening. Fingers that found warmth in others start loosening. The period of rebelliousness starts fading, and you start to realize: the world is just you. A cage watches the heart become the graveyard of dreams, memories, losing and winning against others' costs, making you either kind or cunning. The same heart where it was supposed to be a garden of flowers. And, someday you step into that cage, and the friend whom you thought would be fighting against the world by your side strangely becomes the world you resented.

Known becomes strangers.

Another person added to the graveyard of your heart.

"Samira, we will be friends forever, right?" the sixteen-year-old Kiraz whispered. Her austere brown orbs gazed at the four-foot-five-inch girl, who scratched the sharp edge of her pencil on her notebook.

Samira ignored her friend, her chin resting on the cool surface of the metalic desk, her eyes half-lidded as she absently twirled her pencil. The restless Kiraz shook her friend, her silky bangs falling on her forehead fluttering.

Stifling a groan, Samira lifted her head, rolling her shoulders to give the attention her best friend greedily asked for. "What happened?"

Kiraz pursed her lips, trying to put her bangs in perfect alignment through the little reflection offered by her black stainless-steel bottle. Even though the teacher had asked her to clip them, her words were, School is not a place for fashion. Samira hauntingly had asked her teacher back why her nails were polished, why she had the privilege of dyeing her hair and styling it. Backed by Kiraz, who nodded her head in support of her friend. Because they promised to live and die together.

Unfortunately, their little rebel spirit was kicked out the second the gobsmacked teacher wrote a long paragraph about their rebellion session in their diary, requiring their parents' signature. Yet, the two girls were nonchalant and chanted out, We don't give a fuck. Fuck, a new word they had learned.

"We will be. Remember the promise of us going out of Kolkata, studying together, finding the love of our lives," Samira chanted out enigmatically.

"Yes, yes, we will do that. But what if we end up like Sneha and Disha?"

Samira furrowed her brows together, "First of all, don't compare us with those backstabbing bitches. Disha has always considered Sneha her best friend, but which friend hooks up with their best friend's boyfriend?"

Now it was time for Kiraz to frown as she placed the bottle on the desk, "What if there was nothing between Vivek and Disha? Love can happen, right? There must be a connection Sneha must've felt with Vivek. Or else how would she have dared to risk the eight-year-long friendship? Sneha was just in love."