Collision (discontinued)

Parallel

It's been two hours since I woke up. Half an hour since she woke up. You would assume I would know from looking out the window. No. I can hear the typical break up music blasting from her computer speakers. As much as I have found myself chasing her in my dreams, I can't stand this punk rock screamo shit. I can't do it.

I sit up in bed, and grab my headphones. I plug them into my laptop and turn on my own music. I tune out her musical pain and open up a draft of my game that I am coding.

"ZACH!"

I take my headphones off and turn to look at Sierra at the door.

"What's up, sis?"

"I've been calling your name for five minutes. Mom made sandwiches. I'd ask about the headphones, but uh, I think the blasting music from Anya's room is an answer enough."

"Chase broke up with her."

Her eyebrows raise and I begin to regret releasing that information, preparing myself for the "encouraging" lecture my older sister is about to give me.

"Now is your chance, kid. You should talk to her. There's not going to be a better chance than this."

"Whatever, Sierra. Tell mom I'm not hungry."

"Okay, fine. Don't take my advice. You'll regret it."

I roll my eyes and put my headphones back on. Even though I have a lot of work I need to do on my game, I find myself distracted and wanting to open the curtains. After twenty minutes of failed attempts at focus, I open up the old folder titled "Her." I pull up the first file. The original, raw, unedited picture of her. Four and a half years. It feels like so long ago. She was such a dramatic, dark, emotional young person. And now to think her heart is shattered over a boy who probably never loved her. Maybe he did. At one point when they were really young. But even by seventh grade year, when I still denied my interest in her, I noticed the way he looked at other girls when she wasn't looking. It angered me and I convinced myself that it was because he had a girlfriend and it was wrong. It was because if it were me, I would find it hard to look at other girls when I had her.

I spent today finishing my remixed track of Shrike by Crywolf. It took awhile. There were a lot of harmonies and tracks under the initial sound that I had to change and take out individually. (A/N I wish I knew about music making, but I don't.) I grab my headphones and my laptop, then open my window. I am relieved by the fact that she is not out on the window ledge, again. Instead, her curtains are closed, her room appearing dark. But, coming in from the barely open window, a breeze shifts her curtain, allowing my a swift glimpse. She's asleep, wearing the same clothes as the night before. Her hair is slightly greasy, and her face is dried with tears. I watch, silently, unable to really look away. I feel my hand ache, and the subtle pain shocks me back to life. I climb out of my window, fully. I set my laptop on my lap and stretch legs out before me. I put my headphones over my messy, untamed hair and pull my jacket tighter. It's not winter. Not yet. But the autumn breeze is biting. I open up my game and listen to the remix, as well as other works I have completed, all on a playlist.

A few minutes pass before her window screeches open and a small ball of paper is thrown from her window. Seconds after the movement, the window closes. I open the paper that has landed in between my knees. I glance at the window, the curtains are completely closed.

He really is.

I chuckle. I set the paper inside and return to my game. Her window screeches open, a couple minutes later, and out from the curtains, she steps out. She's wearing a different pair of jeans, and a neon yellow hoodie. Her hair is fading to its original color, what I would assume is a light brown. It's pulled up in a bun on her head. Her glasses are not the normal ones, they're more square and have a barely noticeable pattern on them. She's not wearing makeup, I can tell, and she's wearing a pair of boots. When I realize I've been staring, I look down, at her feet.

"If I don't wear shoes, I'll slip," she explains, noticing me staring at her feet.

I'm unable to speak, my heart is in my throat, and I can't seem to look at her.

"How did you know he broke up with me?"

I look up at her, shocked.

"I-uh. Um. The whole tenth grade knows. You've been together for a long time, so it just...it's big news."

"Oh, great. I'm so glad to hear that everyone I know is involved in my love life."

"I mean, I-uh," I stumble over my words, unable to think and unable to stop stuttering.

"It's fine. I know you probably didn't mean it that way."

"Yeah," I mumble.

"What are you doing?"

I feel her eyes trailing on my face, probably inspecting me, head to toe. She's never really looked at me before.

"Um, I'm making a game."

"Like, an actual computer game that you can play?"

"Yeah, um, it's coding, and a bunch of other complicated, geeky stuff..."

"You must be pretty smart to do that stuff."

"Yeah, I guess."

I glance at her, but she's focused on the night sky.

"I don't know why I even stayed with him."

I'm shocked, again, by her words.

"Why is that?"

"Isn't it obvious? You don't have to pretend around me. He's not a good guy."

"But he was your best friend since, like, sixth grade."

"We're not the same kids we were in sixth grade. Especially since he's smoking weed and coming home drunk and failing classes and hanging out with older, terrible influences. It's bad. It's really bad."

I sit back, still in just utter surprise.

"What?" she asks, looking at me, waiting for a response.

"I didn't think you really knew about his bad side."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I thought in your eyes he was still the innocent, could do no harm sixth grade best friend. I just thought-"

"I mean, I made excuses for him in my head, but I'm not an idiot. I knew that he was doing bad things."

"I just-I didn't mean to, uh, offend you. I just thought you had a higher opinion of him."

"Not, anymore. I know he's in a bad place."

There's a silence that settles on us.

"Well, computer boy, I guess I'll see you later."

She starts to climb back into her window.

"Wait, Anya."

She stops and turns her head to look at me. I freeze up, unsure of why I stopped her, and her icy stare with those green eyes only make it worse.

"Um, keep the music down, alright?"

I rub the back of my neck, feeling awkward and foolish, but she only laughs.

"I'll make sure to keep that mind."

Her window shuts.