happy endings are for fairy tales // kiani au

SIXTEEN: JORDAN

yall wanted them to show they're feelings?? ure finally gna get it :-) -aŁ

26 june 2016

will is sitting at the corner of my bed, staring at the clock ticking. fingers tapping on the plastic of my controller, following the clicks of the clock. this is how he is as i leave to grab a drink. when i'm back, he looks the same.

nobody ever can read will well, because of how adept he is at bottling everything up, but this definitely isn't him. no, something has taken over him. sadness? jealousy? anger? maybe it's all. maybe rather than feeling something, he can't feel anything. i don't know. who does, really, when it comes to the tall mysterious boy in front me?

"something on your mind?" i attempt to pull it out of him– the reason why he hasn't turned on my game console yet, excitedly sat on the beanbags, said 'ready to get your ass kicked, bayani?'.

in an instant, he looks away, "oh, no. just remembering something. liam's birthday is coming soon and he hinted to me to buy something for him.. i forgot what it was.."

liam. right, "probably another computer game." i situate myself comfortably in the blue beanbag. he follows suit on the red one. always the red one, next to my own.

today wasn't a good day. may i dare say, it was one of the worst days i had gone through. the signs pointed to it too, the outcome i awfully despised and hated. how my normal taste in edm was tilting to another genre: songs about love in general. how i had found myself blanking out, just trying to digest my emotions in a gruel mess of smoke, alcohol and drugs. how i detoured unconsciously from my home to follow a couple laughing and holding hands, before i noticed i was on the wrong route and erased the soft smile growing on my face. i'd never felt this way before. and i hated it.

today? the worst thing about today was that the feelings were getting stronger. grappling at my other organs, making my brain literally stop working for the whole day. i couldn't process anything that was said to me. i just thought, talked to myself. kept thinking of this growing parasite in me. love, affection, attachment. love, affection, attachment.

out. i want it fucking out.

i hate it so much because i only think of love. just love. pure love. true love. there's no face to it, no identity to extort these feelings on. nevertheless, i pray for it to fuck off. it was ruining everything.

the feelings are rushing through me again, devouring all my thoughts. the words keep playing over the over: love, affection, attachment. they are getting louder and harder for me to feign its absence, as if they were easy to ignore in the first place. suddenly, i feel like i'm in heavenly pink white clouds above, threatened constantly by the thought of falling onto the hard but safe ground. light, almost empty.

fucking hell, i give up. from the back pocket of my bag, i take out my bong and a box meant for a stack of cards. will is too distracted with turning on the game to notice. he wouldn't stop me even if he saw, anyway, since he's only adamant on hearing what happened afterwards when i was more sober. he always had to know, always had to pacify every negative emotion in me because he knew nobody else would.

but maybe not this time. i didn't have any words to offer him to matter how hard i tried to formulate any.

i draw in a breath from the freshly burning weed, letting the lightness rise in me. will notices from the obvious smell and i look back at him. it's never a judging look when it comes to will. it's always a curious or empathetic or 'i don't find this right, but i respect it anyway, because i don't know the full story' stare. sometimes, i found it comforting to just do something messed up and test when he'll snap, when he'll give me that look everyone glares at me with. he hasn't snapped yet. sometimes, it's comforting to know there isn't a shift in mood which i most definitely would have seen in someone else.