Not Yet

10 | 𝔹𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕀 𝕃𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕐𝕠𝕦

When I was around twelve, I met a good friend named Matt Hughe. We were at the monkey bars situated in primary school. All the other students ran around us without a care — as if the world meant nothing to them except for the sole purpose to have fun. My eyes were watching in awe as a rotund student with fair hair swung from each bar to the next, in swift motions. I found it funny, that someone that large could had managed to lurch themselves across.

However at that very last bar, he had swung and missed it entirely, which he found himself falling onto the bark ground. I got up from where I had sat, and offered my hand to him. He stared at it with his head cocked to one side. But he didn't take it, and instead heaved himself up. I let my hand drop to my side, as our eyes exchanged curiosity.

"Liam," I suddenly introduced with my pubescent voice, "Liam Woles."

He smiled, beaming his caramel-coloured teeth; some jagged and some lost. He shook my hands with his chubby fingers.

"Matthew, but everyone calls me Matt," he replied in his well-rounded and polished accent.

"Want to be friends?"

"Sure, why not," he answered, perfectly pronouncing each word.

He then went back to the monkey bars, "Let's play."

That was our story. However as time progressed, we found ourselves in high school. This time I was left stranded as Matt strayed from me and joined with the football stars. I never saw him during the holidays before high school began. We just lost touch, saw ourselves as strangers. It killed me, brought me down to think that it was even plausible. The silence between us was harsh, and I only had Billie there to support me, but she wasn't always there.

It was not when on the first day did I see him. I was stunned by the difference he has gained. His weight was the prominent feature that changed within him. He transformed into this muscular and stark being. He was entirely someone else. I no longer recognised him.

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I always observed him from behind with my heart in palpitation of pain.

He caught the ball with his mighty arms, and threw it over to one of his teammates. Eyes trained on his enemy defender.

My eyes wanted to tore away from him, but the interest and wonder always got the best of me. Why did he leave me?

He ran across the field with such powerful strides. His hair glistened with sweat that looked glossy in the warm sunlight.

I wanted to walk down the concrete stairs and onto the field to ask him the question. Why did you leave me, Matt? Was I not worthy enough? Did you finally find something that you could despise me for?

His teammate passed the ball to him. He caught it seamlessly, and he raced over to the scoring line with his enemies hot on his trail.

Or was it me who caused all of this? Was it me who neglected you? I bit my nails, and Billie stopped me. She asked me if I was alright. I nodded, with my eyes still focused on him.

Almost at the end, and he dived and the ball touched the ground.

An eruption of cheers, the gaiety of joy spreading through each of the audience except me. I sat gloomily as Billie beside me jumped up.

He gathered himself up, and discovered that his team had just won: 33 to 30. He glanced over to the lively crowd, giving a cursory look to each of the faces. He stopped at one. The boy that remained sitting on the stands.