Eunoia

02. Him

inspired by someday we'll be together again by bonjr. i reccomend you to listen to it while reading! | not edited | 1,103 words w/o authors note | ty to imsoextra- for making the side banner! | enjoy!

As I walk on the lonely streets, earbuds in my ears, avoiding eye contact with any passing strangers. Everything around me blurs as my eyes focus on the small footsteps I make against the cracked, uneven pavement, sinking myself even deeper into my thoughts.

It was approximately fall break, the last day of having no school stress. But not stress completely, hell, having a free state of mind is almost impossible for me to achieve. He should know...

Him.

My eyebrows crease in frusteration as I once again, think about him; someone I can never have again. Someone that has already been with my fucked up soul and brain, someone who decided he has had enough of my bullshit. Someone who realized that my feelings are trapped, someone who fixed what I had left of my heart but dropped it after finishing his masterpiece.

Him.

Tears well up my eyes, and I remove my hands from the pockets in my coat to wipe them away; the same tears he wiped away when he was here for me.

I knew from the start I was going to ruin him, and that deep down I was going to regret it one day. He treated me like a mosaic art piece, with such fragile hands and admiration in his eyes. Admiring evey single detail, loving the broken cracks within me.

He would notice when I was feeling insecure around him; thinking that he would never love me with all the flaws I have, both the physical and mental flaws. But he would hold my chin softly with his pointer finger and his thumb, lifting my head up. His fingers rough against my skin. He would make me look into his eyes. I wouldn't be able to last 5 seconds looking into them, because I knew that if I looked any longer I'd feel more insecure, as our faces were inches away. He could see everything. I looked down to the ground. My eyebrows creasing in frusteration.

You idiot. Selfish. Sensitive. You're not good enough. He doesn't deserve you.

The same words I tell myself almost every day, except on the good days, which are very rare.

He would watch as my emotions change, as my eyes water, as his eyes soften. Then, he'd look me in my eyes, as I look at his. For those mere five seconds he would tell me, "You're so beautiful."

I would smile, looking at him in his eyes for more than five seconds, maybe ten, knowing he means it. Him knowing that it took everything within me to look at his eyes for more than five seconds. He'd smile back, bringing my face closer to his, and the rest was revolutionary.

My eyes focus back into reality, as I naturally frown in the realization that I am still on this cruel world. The world that is full of hatred and heartbreaks and disgusting attitudes.

A world that I contributed to, by breaking him, and many others before.

Step after step, I get closer and closer to my destination. The thoughts of him getting louder in my head, as if my brain can't take it anymore. I listen to these thoughts, thinking about the things I loved, or still love, about him.

He was taller than me, but the measurement of his height isn't what I love. It's the fact that he would take his measurement as an advantage to make me feel safe, as his body would wrap around mine. He treated me like a garden, cutting down my weeds, watching my flowers grow.

His hair was long, but the length of his hair isn't what I love. It's the little things he did to it. How he fixed his hair by running his fingers through it, then he'd smile after realizing that I was staring. How he knew that I liked his hair long because I could run my own fingers throuh it, as he'd watch my face relax as I did these things to him.

His smile was beautiful, but the way it looked isn't what I love. It's the way his face would lighten up. The way his eyes would sparkle, the way his cheeks would lift up, the way the dimple on his cheek would appear. How he smiled because of me, or simply because of the things that made him happy.

His personality is amazing, but the way it is isn't the only thing I love. It's how I learned about it, and how he showed it to people. We were best friends, and he would share himself with me all the time, and I just knew when something was wrong. Then I fell in love with everything he has to offer, and everything else in between.

Its how he moved his body like it weighed nothing. Like he was free everytime he took a step. How he'd show me he loves me...or should I say loved.

It's how he was mine, and I was his, and how no matter what, we knew we loved each other.

I take a few more steps in order to reach wherever I was planning to go to, and I lift my head up to see the library doors. Stepping onto the automatic doors, I look straight ahead, feeling safe and warm. Breathing in the air conditioner, I immediately take myself to one of the tables in the far back side of the building.

Noticing a few familiar figures, I sat myself down facing the doorway of the library. Looking through my playlist to find a song that had no lyrics, I look up a few times as I had a strange feeling of being watched.

Finally finding a song that suits my needs, I take out a book from my bag and press play on my phone before locking it.

A few sentences in and I still feel a burning sensation of being watched. Then, as I glance away from my book, I freeze.

Not just the kind of freeze where you stop for a few seconds and move on with life as if nothing happened. The type of freeze where everything is there, but it isn't clear. Where you can only focus on how things changed. Where you look back and smile a tiny smile, but then realize "oh fuck life sucks."

His eyes were staring back at mine, but not the way they used to.

They bore into mine as if they didn't matter to him anymore. As if he was curious as to why I was there in the first place. As if he never knew me. As if I didn't mean anything to him. As if the simple aurora I put off didn't draw him in the way it used to.

He smiled a small smile, a smile that held so much meaning to me, but a smile that only showed very little to him.

Then my eyes focus on the girl sitting beside him, holding the hand that once held me so softly. The girl that fixed him, the girl that holds him, the girl that he loves, the girl that loves him, the girl that makes him happy, the girl that treats him better than I ever could.

The girl I couldn't be.

hello readers! i apologize for taking a while to write up another short story. feel free to comment writing prompts & your feelings below! thank you so much for reading & supporting this collection!
- delilah