Ultimate Confession - S. M. Casto

Ch. 3 A Box of Feelings

Hey, Rosia, even though I don't share your feelings I still want us to be friends.

No.

Hey, Rosia, how're you feeling? Even though I turned you down I want you to know I care about you a lot. I really don't want our friendship to end in spite of everything.

Definitely not that.

Hi, Rosia. I hope you're doing well.

What kind of greeting is that?

Frustrated, Valentine throws his cellphone onto his bed. With a sigh, he leans back in his chair gazing up at the ceiling. His eyes were painfully dry after staring into his phone for six hours straight. And rubbing them only made it worse, so he closes them. But doing that only provoked the memories.

"Uugh," he groans.

All day today he was in his room, trying to figure out what to text Rosia. He needed to talk to her. Needed to clear the air before it was too late. Problem is, what should he say?  

What to say, what to say, what to  say.

He swings his feet around as he spins himself on the chair. He stares up at the ceiling, watching the small popcorn-like bumps spin in his vision. The faster he went the blurrier they became until they began to form an image that shape-shifted to whatever he could discern.  A smiling goblin head. A moth-bat hybrid. An anatomy of the human brain. Two rams butting heads. Splattered butterflies fluttering away. Dancing silhouettes made of fire. A pair of eyes shedding tears. Before he could look away, Rosia appeared.

He tears his eyes away and halts the spinning. He rubs his eyes trying to get the image out of his head.

I have to talk to her.

He steps up from the chair and reaches for his phone on the bed.

Hey, Ambrosia. He texts.

Less than five seconds later she replies back. Hey, Valentine.

We need to talk.

I know.

Where are you?

At home.

He tenses. Without a doubt Wreath knows. How did he take the news? Is he ticked? Does he want to murder the guy that broke his only daughter's heart? Should he risk visiting there?

No one's home. Rosia texted.

Ugh. Is it that obvious?

Regardless, he has to take this opportunity.

Stay there. I'm coming over.

Okay.

He shuts his phone and slips it into his back pocket. He hurries out his room and grabs the keys off the wall beside the door.

He's breathless even though he's not tired. His heart is hammering in his chest and up to his head he can feel his face throbbing. It's messing with his vision and he unwittingly falls against the wall.

Calm down, idiot. Sheesh.

He straightens up and grabs the knob, but he couldn't take hold as his hand was numb and sweaty, slipping off. He quickly rubs his palms on his jeans before he was finally able to open the door. Locking it was another matter; he kept dropping the keys or shook too much to insert them into the bolt. It took several tries, but he succeeded.

He steps out into the air and loses his breath at the view. The sky was died in a intense orange-red color with the horizon pure gold. The sun was a light of amber, but it wasn't too bright to burn the eyes. It was all so awe-inspiring.