Indira [Completed]

one ; the day i would regret most

I couldn't tell you the exact moment in time I realised that I loved him.

Finn Thompson. The single most infamous boy who went to our sixth form with a mess of spun gold hair sitting atop his head, the warmest hazel green eyes that could make you question everything you were so sure of and a set of full lips, pink and slightly parted to reveal a set of straight white teeth that astonished me bearing in mind how many packets of cigarettes he smoked in a day.

I would find myself just looking at him from time to time in awe, wondering how a human being could be so ordinary yet invoke me to feel such extraordinary things at the same time. Maybe it was because however much I tried to deny it, I was really a closeted hopeless romantic just waiting to get out. Or maybe it was entirely my friend's fault. Well, one of my friends. Hanna Saunders, Han for short and what pretty much ninety percent of people she knew called her. She was that typical head-in-the-clouds, stuck-in-having-her-own-fairy-tale-ending kind of girl you would expect. She was also one of my closest friends and because of her, sadly, I was warming to the idea of falling in love.

After all, I had been in denial about harbouring a crush on the boy I had secretly been lusting after for the past two years. Well, not just lusting, but like was there too. But now, I realised, it was inevitable. I liked him. Not that he knew, even though we used to talk on a daily basis on account of us sharing two of our lessons together. Chemistry and Maths, two of the sciences I used to be ever so enthusiastic about but had come quite quickly, because of A-Levels, to grow to dislike.

Finn Thompson used to be a taken man, until a few months ago, when I learned his now ex-girlfriend had broken up with him. And from then on, there seemed to be an invisible queue of girls who would laugh at his every word, take him in at his every sentence, just sit and gaze at him as though he was as intriguing as the concept of the wonder of the stars were to me. And Finn Thompson, well, he was a wonder to pretty much everyone. He was quiet, reserved but at the same time, a foul-mouthed, irritating, arrogant and typically selfish seventeen-year-old.

And I was just an acquaintance who he had no idea liked him, and soon enough, as we parted ways after sixth form to leave for university, I would become a distant memory as he met more people, graduated a few years later, started at work, maybe fell in love, got married, had children and just continued to live his life. And I was fine with that. Or so I thought.

"I am fine with that," I insisted now to my counsellor as we sat in her office, fiddling with a hangnail on my finger as I tried not to maintain eye contact in fear of it giving me away.

"Are you really?" she checked with a dubious yet comforting smile. Her name was Rose and she reminded me too much and too little of the flower at the same time. Her cheeks were flushed pink like always, thanks to the blush she donned from her make-up bag and yet her hair and eyes were dark, like coal, almost too dark, darker than mine which was saying something. Her skin was like mildew, pale and wearing down but still managed to illuminate her features. She was another woman who had managed to be such a mystery to me, which was in her job description, but she was one woman I sensed, much like my mother, who had her demons which she was continually trying to suppress.

"Well, yeah," I replied, trying to convince myself more than I was her, "It's over. It's been two years and I said and did nothing to let him know I liked him like that. I like him like that. He has no idea and thinks I hate him and...I – I can't believe he does but I'm going to have to make my peace with that."

"Why does he think you hate him?" she inquired, dark eyebrows arched as her eyes quickly flicked to the recording device on top of the table between us. "Do you know?"

"Mm," I hummed thoughtfully, "Something happened in Maths yesterday. Apparently."

"What happened?" she prompted. "You don't have to tell me, I just think it might help you. You're not yourself today, you seem...distracted, on edge, like you're going slightly mad."