first american title | tenya iida

five

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iida's pov

Lydia's eyes consumed my thoughts most of the time. The way they glimmered under the sunlight reminded me of the earth's soil after rain, and stones that had sat in the same place for years, gathering dirt on top them. They were the silky coat of a wild mustang, the pickguard on an expensive guitar. She has the most stunning eyes. Her eyes were the kind of eyes that you could stare at for hours because they were never ending pools of color. Her eyes were so incredible, framed by her long eyelashes and wrinkles that formed when she smiled. What wide, open, loving eyes she has.

Why Lydia was flooding my mind during a meeting I couldn't tell you. Perhaps boredom, which seemed unlikely. I didn't usually get distracted during meetings. I like knowing what was going on, being praised for being such a loyal and focused worker. 

I guess I was just tired of being the loyal and focused worker while not reaping the rewards to their fullest. I couldn't leave though, stop working and change my entire life. Routine was the one thing I constantly needed. I didn't want to fall apart so quickly. When the meeting did end, I realized that I had paid zero attention. Great. Well, that will damper my reputation. By the time it was over so was my shift. 

I walked to the bus stop haphazardly. Today was so boring, things were overly redundant. At the bus stop, I saw Lydia, who had her knees pulled into her chest. She looked like she was crying, and upon reaching her I realized that she was in fact, crying. Briefly, she looked up at me and wiped her tears before looking back down and burying her face into her knees. 

"Lydia, what's wrong? Are you okay?" I asked. I sat next to her, awaiting a response. 

She sniffed, didn't raise her head, and replied, "Do you ever just have those songs that make you so fucking sad? I do."

I, unfortunately, did not have those songs that made me cry. "I understand, Lydia. I'm sorry that you feel like this right now."

"It's okay Iida it's just one of those songs yknow. I'm okay don't worry."

We stayed in silence. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her thin figure into my side. I didn't say anything, and neither did she. Which I think was the best part of it. The silent embrace was sweet.

We boarded the bus together, and I held her all the way home. When we reached the home bus stop, Lydia stopped me. 

"Iida?" She softly called. I hummed a small response. She got closer to me. Her hands landed softly on my shoulders, and she pressed her head into my chest. "Thank you," She whispered. I pulled her into me, giving her a big hug.

"Of course."

Lydia looked up at me. Her big, brown eyes focused onto mine. Her feet pushed off the ground so that now she was a little taller, and a little closer to me. One of her hands went from my shoulder to my hair. Softly she pressed her lips into mine. I could feel my eyes go wide and my cheeks turn a soft shade of red. I kissed her back, softly. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds before Lydia pulled off and ran. 

I stood, awestruck. What the fuck does that mean? I wondered. I could still feel her lips on mine. I laid in bed for an hour before going to sleep. I felt giddy and confused and a mix of feelings. Did she want me romantically? Did I want her romantically? I could even decipher how I felt. 

The following day, Lydia was not at the bus stop. Or at night. Nor the next day or the day after that. I texted her a few times. No response. On Saturday I sat at the bus stop all day, hoping to catch her at some point. It felt like my brain was clouded. Where is she? I repeated, over and over. Did I do something wrong? 

I didn't think I did anything wrong. It was only a kiss. There must have been some reason why she wasn't talking to me. Was she dead? I'd go to her apartment to see if she was okay but I didn't know where her apartment was. Worry flooded me like no other emotion ever had. Nothing could get my mind off of what was happening.

A week later I sat down at the bus stop. In the back of my mind, I hoped and prayed that miraculously Lydia would show up. She didn't, of course. But that night a very familiar woman sat at the bus stop. As I approached though, I realized that it was not Lydia, just a homeless person. 

I wished that I could see her again. I wanted to talk to her. I missed her pretty eyes and her soft hair. The way she spoke and giggled and god. Where was she? Nothing consumed my thoughts but her and how she was. My worry only increased as the days went by. 

What made it worse was the fact that it could have been my fault. It had to have been my fault, right? There was no way Lydia had just disappeared because she felt like it. Something had to push her over the edge. My worst fear was that I was the reason she was pushed over the edge. I felt as though I was to blame. 

I just wished that tomorrow morning I would wake up and see her smiling face at the bus stop, humming along to a pop-punk song that I didn't know. She'd tease me for working so hard and we'd go our separate ways. I wanted to spend another Saturday with her, doing something stupid for no reason. Having fun, smiling. 

If she would come back, I'd be more than happy. I'd probably hug her and be simply ecstatic that she wasn't dead. If only she would talk to me. If she wasn't a ghost. 

~*~