The Catastrophe of Falling In Love

Chapter 1

It's almost midnight, it's warm and sweltering, and I might be fucking pissed on alcohol, but those eyes—those piercing blue eyes—look absolutely familiar.

    It's him.

     His lean figure is unmistakable. He stands few meters away, hand shoved on his pocket, and holds a bottle of beer on the other. The loud electro-pop tunes fill my ears that I couldn't hear him laugh, but enough to say he's having fun—having fun without me. I don't care. He takes a swig, then laugh, another swig, and suddenly his eyes locked on mine.

     His eyes are so blue that even in the darkest of the night they illuminate. It speaks the truth, it's like a real windows to his soul, he's evidently happy, but not until he sees mine. His ear-to-ear smile disappears. For a minute, he just looks at me with a wide baffling eyes. His friends continue to laugh, but we just hold our stare. Just like that.

     Our long tension-filled eye contact brings so much memories. All the good and bad ones struck me right on my chest and ripped my heart apart. I don't want to feel like miserable, but it hurts. Every second hurts. Seeing him is not part of the plan, but I picture it coming. Though he's not to be expected. It just fucking hurts.

     He broke off and averted his eyes at the ground instead. My chest tightens. I couldn't resist not looking at him, even if he doesn't look back anymore. Maybe a part of me wants to me sure it is really him in his hair that is longer than it used to be: copper, mussed and disheveled. He's like a greek god, I may add.

     I scramble on my feet and left the front stairs, where I was seated to get some fresh air. We can't stand each other, that's the truth. Or maybe he can, and I can't. Turns out that I'll be needing more carbon dioxide to breathe from this suffocating situation. My legs felt like jello as I stood and walk. Everything started to spin, like I'm riding a rollercoaster and passing through a loop. It makes me feel nausea, but I needed to go home. I wanted to go back, and sleep it off because tomorrow I wake up, he's just a huge illusion that the alcohol inside me sees.

     My steps became slightly audible as soon as I walked far behind the party, but I could still hear the Dj's muffled music blasting in the middle of the night.

     "Hey!" After a long time, after a year full of regrets and mistakes, it finally bursted out of his lips.

     My body jerks, meeting his—shit!—piercing blue eyes. Shit. It's like I'm looking straight into a precious sapphire, or the cerulean ocean. I don't know. But what I know is they're bluer than mine, or bluer than anybody else. He is standing in front of me. His voice weaken my knees and almost made me stumble on the ground. He's about to hold me still, but he restrain himself.

     Ouch!

     "You're not him, I'm absolutely sure you're not him!" I exclaimed, the alcohol inside me burns. I could already feel my cheeks red and hot.

     "Right, I'm not," he snorts. The corner of his lips curled up, beaming a brittle, fake smile. "Who am I?"

     I stared at our shoes, unable to answer him. He wears a pair of skateboarding shoes that is fairly big compare to mine, and I wear a pair of filthy sneakers. He doesn't move a muscle, and I didn't. The silence of the night wraps us, the only thing we could hear is the sound of the crickets and our soft breathing's. I couldn't think of anything else but him. Who is he if he's not him?

     "Fuck you, Christian!" I slurred out.

     He's taken aback. His eyes peered, and furrowed his brows, but he didn't say anything in return. There's a guilt that builds at the pit of my stomach that makes me want to throw up. I suddenly regret saying it. But it's all I've been wanting to say after a long time. It would kill me if I didn't said it out loud.