We were many things until we were nothing. But even that was temporary.
— Callie Chen
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THE MOON'S CURVE shone half across Ishaan's face, the light brushing across his brown skin delicately, almost as if caressing him.
If there was a word that could completely characterize who Ishaan was, it was soft. Soft like the wisps of your hair dancing in the gentle wind. Soft like a warm glow of light cuddling your skin. Soft like sweet lips brushing against yours and fingertips curving along the shape of your body.
Our beginning had started from the near end, as strangers tangled in the sheets, a result of a drunken stupor. I had woken up the next morning, a gorgeous boy holding me tight, his eyelashes long and beautiful, a feather touch against his skin. And then he woke up, eyes fluttering until all the sleepiness dissipated and saw me, a slow smile spreading across his cheeks and I had almost wanted to touch where his smile ended. It almost felt like it wasn't a one night stand. But it was and we were nothing but strangers.
Perhaps reverse was the way fates wanted to intertwine our lives because after that night my life changed. We couldn't get enough of each other. We went from hooking up to getting together to becoming best friends.
And now, we were strangers who waved and nodded at each other when we crossed paths.
Ishaan and I walked backward until we hit the wall and we knew that's where we ended. Because walking reverse didn't work well for us. Where we should have started became our goodbye.
☔︎☔︎☔︎
The stars winked in the black blanket, blurring against the pelting rain, crying windows. Everything was anything but quiet. Shoes tapped along the floorboard, chatters danced along empty spaces but the sound of my heartbeat, amplified in my ears, drowned the noise as if it was drunk and underwater.
I stabbed my cheese fry with a fork as Ishaan did the same, occasionally glancing at me like he was afraid of my reaction to what he was going to say. I had a feeling what it was about but I chanted in my head again and again that he wouldn't say it.
"Callie,"
I froze. The way he said my name always sent my heart into a frenzy. I loved how he caressed each letter, the way his eyes darkened when he said it and how much frailty it held.
"Don't say it," I said firmly, pulling on each tendril of strength.
He ran his fingers through the soft waves of his dark hair. "Cal, you know—we know, it's not working out,"
"Don't say it—goddammit, Ishaan!" I let my fork clatter on the glass plate and there was nothing pleasant about the sound. It only earned me some stares.
