Forehead Kisses (ONGOING)

Part Twelve

     There was this boy I used to see everyday back in 6th Grade. He was always this conspicuous kid. Always picking on little guys. Always clenched his fists. Always had that rough expression on his face. I never saw him smile. No one did.

     I was this girl who never left my seat. Just sitting there beside the window, looking outside wondering where my dad could be right now. What could he be doing? Is he fine? Does he ever get homesick? I propped a hand below my cheek when this boy sat behind me. It was the same bully boy. The one that always looked so horrid. I looked back and he just glared at me. His cheek was bluish black and he had fresh bruises in his chubby arms and knuckles. He looked at me in a scary way where I just had look back in front and pretend I never noticed anything. Must've picked a fight with the older kids, I guess.

     I admit I was a bit scared but I wanted to nurse his bruises. Aunt Annie told me that when someone gets hurt, we help. Even if they don't want it. I always wondered if mom was like her. They're twins after all. Same blue eyes and brown hair, same smile. I also wondered what my dad saw in her that he didn't see in Aunt Annie. He always said that no two people are the same. I didn't really understand.

     I had tissue in my bag. It isn't bandage but it would help stop the bleeding. I handed it to him and he just looked surprised. His dark eyes expressed enough of it. "Take it," I insisted. While he wiped his arms, I ran to the bathroom ad soaked my clean handkerchief in water. Then I went back and cleaned his wounds. He sat still, watching me clean his knuckles.

     "Aren't you scared of me?" he asked. I looked up. His black hair was shaved to a clean crew cut and his fat cheeks were slightly flushed. I never met his eyes. "I am. I'm scared of you."

     "Then why are you doing this?"

     "I wanna be a doctor someday," I answered. I continued gently wiping his knuckles then stood when I was done. He wasn't really as bad as I assumed him to be. "If you weren't an ugly girl, I'd be punching you right now."

     "You hate pretty girls?"

     "No. I think girls don't deserve to get punched..." he said. "Even if some are as ugly as you. You're not worth punching. You look like dirt already. What's the point obliterating you that way?" I clenched my fists when he just called me dirt.

     So... I'm just dirt, huh?

     I turned around and left him there. I never really talked to that brat again. Even in times we both end up in a certain task, I just ignore him. Daddy said that there's no point picking a fight with someone if it's not worth it.  A week later, he stopped coming to school. I heard rumors that he's moving. To where? Who knows. He's gone.

     On my way home on the very same day, I saw him in a store. He saw me. I looked away. He came near me and I just pretended like I was looking across the street. We bumped into each other. "Here." He handed me a panda doll. One eye was missing and it looked kinda old. "Why would I want that?" I asked. " I don't want it anymore," he shrugged, looking away.

     "So I'm a trash bin now, huh?" I grabbed the doll and walked passed by him. He didn't do anything as I kept it in my bag. Didn't come after me, stop me, explained to me. None. He just stood there with a blank expression in his face. 

     The image shifted and I realized this was all a dream. It was all dark and cold. I heard a faint, Ed Sheeran song in a distance. It's quite far but faint, but I could hear it. "It's you, Elizabeth," a voice cried. A deep voice. A man's voice. "I'm the dirt, Liz. You're a jewel." It says again.

     Who's voice is this?

          I love you, Liz.

                         I'm happy you're here.

                                      Do you hear that? It's my heartbeat.

                                                                   I'm not leaving anymore. I'm not leaving you...