The Warmth In Pain

3. Solitude

Emmerson
Now

Some people like to enjoy their own solitude.

I'm like that.

There's a boy in my new class. His name is Lucas.

He's like that too.

It's funny that I remember him from the Fourth of July. He wasn't even close to being a significant part of those horrible months or even that beautiful day. Yet there he was, at the back of my mind, unforgotten even through everything that happened

I pretended not to know him when I was the talk of the town, because that would've brought more harm than good. A word could become the start of a butterfly effect. It could end with stone pelting your soul, your solitude, your masks, your everything.

Back then I couldn't look beyond my Elliot and I barely can, even now. But now I saw beyond just Lucas's haunted eyes.

Now that I saw him, i realised that he was beautiful beyond comprehension, eyes bluer than denim, and his hair was dark and ruffled dreamily. But, even now, in his beautiful eyes I saw something: loneliness. The same as mine. But he was quiet, too quiet. Invisible, yet too vibrant to make you feel comfortable. He scared others because of his quietness. He scared me because he was the same as me.

His voice was slightly gruff, with just enough boyishness and just enough honey; I would've loved to hear him sing.

"Hello, Emmerson," Lucas began.

We all had our own solitude.

Why was he interfering with mine?

************************************

Lucas

Hope is a very traitorous emotion, something that might have been better off not existing. It is a strong emotion, one that keeps you going, even if its in the wrong direction, for the wrong reasons.

If there is a God in this world, maybe he thinks we are better off accepting all our harsh realities because if he didn't, he would not have made us feel disappointment for the simple crime of hoping for something.

Why was I mentioning this now?

Because I was following hope right now. It lead me to a pretty girl with shoulder-lenght hair and the most dreary of expressions. I was nervous and my palms were sweating and I wondered if I should ditch my plan and pretend to be lost.

It was far too late for that now.

"Hi, Emmerson," I began.

I don't know what I'm hoping to accomplish.

I'm no knight in shining armor with the glorious purpose of one in a million. I was just a boy.
But I couldn't deny not being able to stop thinking about her. The boy I saw her laughing with several months ago was Elliot. The dead boy. The love of her life.

I might as well not exist next to him. He was more handsome, taller, friendlier...it was better not to compare myself to him.

I usually don't talk to other people. Ever, if possible.

Yet, here I was initiating conversation.

All that was left was to convince myself that this was just pure curiosity.

Curiosity about the loud football captain and how he ended up dead.

I'm just a liar, lying all over again.

Just a side character trying to look into a different shard of life.

**************************

A/N: Thank you for tuning in, cinnamon rolls. I like to clear something up. At this point of time, Emmerson has no romantic feelings for Lucas, she is admiring him objectively. Lucas has no idea that he's even hot ('cuz that's my type :p), but sees himself somewhere on the sidelines. He's in his own world most of the time...so...yeah. Hopefully, that makes it a bit more realistic.
Anyways, no high expectations just good vibes (liar).

Okie bye byeeii.