❝SAD BIRDS WILL STILL SING, THE FLOWERS WILL STILL BLOOM, AND THE SUN WILL STILL RISE WITHOUT YOU❞
When an accident left Grayson Reyes in critical condition, he woke up unable to remember the brown-eyed beauty who stayed by his side for three month...
AUTUMN'S ABSTRACT AND BEAUTIFUL. The leaves twirl along the pavements while a crisp chill of air nips my skin, leaving lingering reminders of how lonely I am. Beyond the pathway of the park are filled with dying leaves. And my lips curve into a small smile when I get a glimpse of the kids laughing.
I halt in my steps and take a seat by a lone bench, unbothered that I'm currently missing my first-period class. I can't help but reflect on the memories of a childhood I never got to experience. After my mother died, my father took on the role of being both parents. Taking this toll, I saw just how much it weighed him down.
Using alcohol and drugs as an outlet to forget about his failed marriage, he was deemed unsuitable to take care of me and sent me to live away with my aunt. She saw me as a nuisance, someone who wanted a free ride. I vaguely remember when she would purposely leave me outside overnight when I failed to return before curfew—even if I was a few minutes late. When her ex-husband tried to take advantage of me while I was asleep, I never hesitated to call the police, but he was long gone. He left her, and it was my fault. After kicking me out, I returned to live with my dad. And throughout the years, he would recover and relapse like a cycle. It was false hope, but I kept hoping anyway.
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HIS EYES ARE MESMERIZING. They are the hues of the forest, crisp and cool. Filled with warmth and peace, it makes me feel safe. I catch myself lost in his eyes and can feel my stomach flutter. When a straight, toothy grin focuses in my direction as he strides down the hall to greet me, I feel strangely excited. He pinches my nose lightly, "It's cold out. Is that all you wore?" Nodding, he lets out an exasperated sigh and unzips his windbreaker. Tossing it into my arms, he says, "I know you like walking, but you promised to let me drive you when the weather gets colder."
I hold back the grin that threatens to break, lifting my head to study his expression. Catching me off guard, he leans forward, "You never wear makeup," frowns Grayson, thumb smudging foundation on my cheek. "Just who are you looking beautiful for?"
My mind is screaming, you, but I swallow the words, "I wanted to try something new. I'm still working on it."
Gazing intently, full of concentration and concern, he pauses and shakes his head, chuckling. "You look good, Leah," he compliments, swinging his arm around my neck. There's a burst of joy from my stomach, and I can't help but lean closer. "We've got PE." Grayson laughs when he notices my disgusted grimace.
"I do ballet," I answer with a roll of my eyes, "Not heavy running or any sport that can potentially break me."
When he releases my hold, I suddenly miss his warmth. But I know better than to hope. "Hey, Grayson!" A sultry voice calls, leaving no hints that she's interested in him.
I should hate her. She's popular, pretty, and everything I yearn to be. I should hate her, but I can't. Trixie is kind, caring, and tries to help everyone she can. She has never been upset or bitter towards anyone. It has always been this way, even as children. Growing up as childhood best friends, Trixie stood out without trying. Along the way, we began to grow apart and fit into different friend groups. While she climbed the social ladder, I struggled to make and maintain friendships. Picked first for every event, invited to parties each weekend, loved by everyone, I was envious of her. Despite how much effort I put in, it never seems enough, and loneliness will always catch up with me.
Silently, I dismiss my hurt when he sends her a charming smile as Trixie pulls him into a possessive hug. When he pats her back in reassurance, all I can feel is irritation.
Listening to the murmurs of the crowd, I slip past into the changing rooms. A mutual friend I made through Trixie greets me, "Hey, cutie!" She waves, tying her hair into a ponytail. "You look pretty today." I blush at her compliment, embarrassed. I suddenly become wary of my attire. Light-washed jeans, worn-out white converses, and the baggy grey sweatshirt that belongs to Grayson, I'm reminded that I can't be his ideal type.
"T-Thanks," I mumble back, "I love the new hair." And with her bold personality, it suits the violet curls. Her cheeks grow rosy, and it comes as a shock to see her shy.
Noticing her clenched knuckles as she takes deep breathes, she bursts out, "Kalea, let's hang out this Friday?!" It comes off as both a question and demand, and it leaves me giggling softly.
"Yes, sounds good. I'm free Friday. Text me the details?" I reply, watching her anxious reaction.
With relief, she nods her head and flashes a wide smile. "See you Friday!" She squeals, waving as she hurries out of the changing rooms.
My excitement is through the roof. This must be the first time a girl has made plans with me that don't include ulterior motives. They usually mention Grayson whenever they possibly can and often ask if I can bring him along.
Without bothering to change, I exit the change rooms, abruptly running into Trixie. She sneers for a moment until she sees me. Profusely apologizing, her arm clings to my left. "Kalea! There you are. I've been looking for you," she timidly says, "I know we don't talk as we used to. But, I have a huge favour to ask. I completely understand if you're unwilling." She lowers her head in worry and carefully watches my reaction. "Do you think you can bring Grayson to the party this Saturday and maybe put in a good word for me?"
I feel my world shatter, and my mind unconsciously goes blank. "I'll bring Grayson to the party Saturday, but I can't promise anything other than that," I say firmly, slipping out of her embrace before she can call me back. I refuse to picture Grayson and Trixie together, even when I know they suit each other well. Biting my tongue to remind me of reality, I tell myself that he and I can only be friends. I have seen countless confessions to know how this will end.
Rushing into the girls' washroom, listening to the doors shut, I stare at the reflection of myself. In the top right-hand corner, Grayson's name is printed in lipstick with hearts. I find it rather amusing and laugh gently. My self-esteem is crashing the longer I look in the large body mirror.
Drowsy and exhausted eyes with dark circles, I haven't been able to sleep soundlessly in months. Dull skin with light scars from the acne I severely suffered from years ago, I look like a mess. Skimming down my body, my gaze sours. The jeans emphasize the lower half that I lack, and overall, I look malnourished. "It seems that makeup can't hide my imperfections," my whisper is sad. For a moment, all I can think about how unattractive I am, and there's a reason why Grayson has never noticed me.
The tears I desperately try to hold back fall, and I head straight into a stall where I'm unable to stop the line of cries. Compared to everyone, I'm inferior. I always will be. Slapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds of sniffles, I hear the washroom door open, "Kalea, do you want to talk about it?"
Remaining quiet, I hope he gives up and leaves. I don't—I can't face him right now. Despite my attempts to remain strong, I'm weak against him. And on impulse, I burst open the door and launch into his arms. Grayson is everything I want, but he deserves better. I cry harder because I'll never be enough. And I know that one day, he will eventually stray further and further away until I no longer can reach him. But even if it's just temporary, I want to dwell in this fantasy a little longer. I love you, is what I want to say, yet I settle with, "You won't leave me, right?"
It's a pathetic question. "We'll always be best friends." And I realize that being his best friend is the closest I can be to him.
