Chasing Blue

#40: BUG.

Present

Isabella

Grace tells me there are two kinds of people in this world—the leavers and the left-behinds. 

The leavers are the ones who recognize love tiptoeing out of a relationship like a thief after a robbery and decide to outrun it. Leavers who, like teachers wind up the last six pages of a chemistry chapter in two lines because they'd like to finish before the lunch bell rings so they dump the syllabus like pragmatic decisions onto the other person. And 'its-not-working-out' that tumbles out of their mouths before love has even reached the exit door. Their neon 'EXIT' signs hide in good night texts so they drive faster because letting go is somehow easier than staying behind. And they're right for when things need so much fixing to function normally they might as well be thrown away.

And then there are the left-behinds, burning painfully like a candle in the temple of lost love, praying they're enough to light up what's already extinguished. The ones left on blue ticks. The 'lets-try-one-more-time's and it's like when you say a word again and again until it loses its meaning in your mouth but they can't stop saying l-o-v-e out of sheer habit so they drag their knees through the granite of a failed relationship with nothing but the coarse courage to stay, fearing the lack of love so much so that they'd rather be loved half than lose it completely because maybe, for them, love can always be fixed no matter how many times it breaks. 

And then there are people like us, choosing to suffer in the middle ground. With hearts too cowardly to let go. With hands too weak to hold on to our love like a ringmaster who knows the circus, is over but heck, how do you explain it to the lions? Loving each other in tiny moments and remembering not to do so in the next one. Running like a three-legged horse against the fastest man on earth. In the race, we're destined to lose but we run and we run in circles, breaking each other into tiny irreconcilable fragments of grief and yet learning syllable by syllable what it truly means to love.

She tells me there are two kinds of lovers in the world—the leavers and the left-behinds. And then there are people like us, neither of those and yet both of them.

Was Austin too scared to be left behind? Or had he always known he'd be the one walking out first? Or is he the kind of person Grace would call both? 

It felt like the middle of the night when Jacob dragged me from the beach. He was merely dusting the sand off my hair when I broke down and cried in front of him for another hour. Why is it that Austin and I find the same kind of comfort with him? Why do we become so vulnerable to him knowing the amount of trouble he caused either of us? 

I'll always be grateful for the things Jacob did to mend whatever gap he'd created throughout high school in just two months. Facing the rejection from Yale doesn't seem as heartbreaking as it did a few hours back. I realize it was for the best. I never really dreamt of going to Yale so it wasn't a dream school I worked hard for. I knew dad would be heartbroken but he'd get over it, just like I am. 

"Careful, or you'd burn your hand." I look at May as she joins me on the wooden log I'm sitting on. 

I pull my hand away from the campfire and wrap them around myself. We spent the whole of today riding on the speed boat and swimming in the water. Jason, Liam, Jacob, and May tried their best to hide the sight of Austin and Julie around me. I caught Austin's eyes thrice, looking directly at me. But the moment I caught him watching me, he looked away. Anger? Hatred? Embarrassment? All of it? 

"How's your graduation speech coming through?" I ask her when both of us glance at Austin and Julie getting up and walking toward the resort. Her fingers were wrapped around his arms and I swear I wouldn't even flinch when I burn her skin layer by layer.