Street Crossing || ✔

Loving Can Hurt Sometimes

*sighs* why do I do this to myself...? Also, idk why, but Amala gives me Maria Reynolds vibes, except she's not abused or causes someone to cheat... maybe it's cause I just visualize her wearing red all the time? Lmao, just thought I'd throw that in there... e n j o y 

- Zen

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Never would he have thought that he would see her again, in America of all places. Especially in something as mundane as crossing the street. But there she was, standing on the corner of Walker and Elek, clutching a worn bag half her size in her hands. She was older, they both were, with greying hair and a stooped posture that spoke of the many years and burdens she had to carry. They made eye contact and his world seemed to slow while hers seemed to speed up, leaving him behind.

A strange bitterness rose up in him and he furrowed his brow in confusion. He had gotten over her a while back, but seeing her after so long brought him back to that time.

He could still remember her laugh, the way her eyes would twinkle as she smiled. Her boundless energy as she waltzed across the floor to invisible music. Her everchanging hairstyles that drove her mother insane. Her spontaneity, capturing and pulling him in, sending him into a spiral of colors and adventures that centered around her.

He could never forget the way his heart broke when she chose Manesh, accepted his proposal, returned his love. He couldn't hate the man, God knew it wasn't possible, and he couldn't hate her, so the only person he hated was himself. He hated his cowardice, his secrecy, his inability to let go- everything. He dealt with the pain, the self-hatred, the unrequited love in the only way he knew how. He shoved them deep down in his heart under an iron lock and made a bottle of whiskey the key.

He remembered one instance, a week before the wedding, a week before the girl of his dreams would forever remain there- in his dreams. Mitali's smile made it a tad more bearable, just enough for him to accept their invitation to go out that night. 

Seeing her happy as she danced with his best friend while he sat in the corner with Amala, her best friend, he could pretend to be content with his life. They both watched the young lovers dance, watched as their bodies pressed together and apart, watched as their laughter mingled with the music and drifted over the din to their little booth. When it reached their ears, Amala had let out a weary chuckle and nudged him.

"Kavi... let's get married," She had whispered, her voice barely heard over the noise. He glanced at her and noted that her eyes were rimmed red and the glass of whiskey hovering near her lips was shaking slightly. His smile felt more sardonic than reassuring and he quickly let it drop.

"Why should we?" he questioned in response and she gave a wan smile.

"You love her," she stated and his breath caught in his throat. How did she know? He had been so careful.

"How did you know?" he asked, but she ignored his question in favor of continuing.

"I love him." Kavi felt his eyes widen and his gaze flickered between the man on the dance floor and the girl in the booth.

"You love him?" he questioned again, but like last time, he was ignored.

"They love each other, and we are left to rot in the aftermath. It's only sensible that we suffer together," she finished before knocking back her drink and plopping the glass back on the table. The rim of the glass was stained with red and he shut his eyes briefly and turned the thought over in his head multiple times before nodding.