Write Me A Letter

11 | began

/ CHAPTER ELEVEN - BEGAN /

"TWENTY-ONE GUNS? MAN, that song is ancient."

Brie's cheeks warmed. All of a sudden, a bubble of irrational embarrassment made her click her phone off and hide it underneath her thigh. It was him again, that new boy who always made comments about the things she did. Whether it was about her choice in music or her obnoxious and extra-extra pink, unicorn pens.

Brie remembered it as clear as day when she and Xander first spoke to each other. He was seated behind her at Biology, right next to Simon who sported a fresh nose piercing back then. She was a curious, fourteen-year-old who guiltily stole glances at the boy who had a cute laugh. The first time she saw him was at lunch on his first day of school, and she remembered how cute he was in his powdered blue shirt.

"I love the song," that was what she said then, voice clipped but soft. It appeared as if she was justifying her song choices, in which she knew she didn't need to.

He didn't say anything for a while, long enough to make her self-conscious and curious enough to twist slightly to see his face.

A smile was there, just a small one, but it made his almond-shaped eyes look cuter than they already were. That was when Brie first felt a strong wave of attraction toward him, but at that time, she was too confused and embarrassed to understand what those feelings meant.

"Never pegged you as a Green Day fan. You look more like..."

"Like?" She probed, leaning closer.

"I don't know. A Taylor Swift fan? Or Justin's."

Her head tilted as she thought about his impression and how he stereotyped her. "I listen to them as well. My playlist is vast, but my favorite is Green Day. It doesn't matter how ancient the song is, if it hits, it hits."

Xander smiled even more, this time it looked teasing. "So how does Twenty-one Guns hit for a fifteen-year-old?"

"Fourteen," she corrected, then regretted it when his brow raised. "My dad's a cop and this was the song that always played on his car's radio when I was younger before he passed away."

"Oh." He was quiet for a while as if gathering his thoughts. "The people we love really make a lot of things special, even ancient songs."

She didn't know what urged her to say that very personal information to a stranger, but she did anyway. Maybe it was because Xander looked kind and genuine, unlike the majority of people who looked at her with faux pity and mourn. Or maybe the fourteen-year-old her just wanted to share a piece of herself to the boy she knew would matter.

Funny how even back then, she always wanted to give something to him.

Xander didn't say anything after that. He didn't say sorry like most people did, nor did he pry for anything more when she was lost for words to say. He just sat there with kind eyes and a sweet smile. He didn't look at her differently nor did he make her feel like a fragile vase with glued and broken shards, and maybe that was when she first started to fall for the boy who would break her heart.

-

"Bitch, that was so dramatic," Paula words sounded like gibberish as she tried to speak over a mouthful of banana milkshake that she was sipping. "Who does that shit? Is that some hot-Asian thing? Because I've watched so many Korean, Taiwanese and Chinese dramas to know that they do punch walls a lot. And man, they're hot."

She took a sip of her own milkshake, frowning when it didn't have enough strawberry in it. "He did. I get that he's mad, but come on, how come it's my fault? Why would he pull the guilt card? I didn't say anything that would jeopardize their relationship, but at the same time I don't want to speak about my feelings or what went on between us in front of everyone else, especially not in front of Izzy."

"Did his fists bleed?"

She sighed. "Paula, are you even listening?"

"I am!" Paula raised her hand in promise, going as far as even crossing her heart. "But I already know that. So I'm curious about the information I still don't know."

"There's nothing much. No juicy shit here. He just went to my house—which I already told you—we argued and he punched the wall and broke my mom's pot. Jackass. She just bought that last week."

Paula was watching her behind her pink, metal straw. Eyes tracing over every contour of her face, making her squirm.

"What?" Brie asked, shifting in her seat. She found her friend's stare uncomfortable, eerie even. It was like she was stripping off her clothes and seeing all her insecurities.

Shrugging, Paula leaned back into the plush, ref, faux leather booth and toyed with her straw. The glass had created multiple rings on the white table, and Paula traced it with her other finger, pulling a string of water out of the perfect circle with her nail. "Don't know, girly. But I feel like you're too—what's the word? Indifferent about this. This just happened last night and now you look as if it didn't matter to you at all. When we both know you still feel like shit."

Brie let yesterday's events play through her head. They came in no particular order as if it were jumbled scenes inside a well-known movie. It flashed like fragments with soft and faded corners until it stopped at the moment where she was crying at the foot of her bed, curled up on the floor with no will to stand up at three a.m.

Her grip on her milkshake glass tightened. "Maybe I ran out of feelings. Maybe I'm just too tired right now to care."

The sudden feel of Paula's cold and wet fingertips on her hand caught her off-guard. She looked up to her, then slowly, her shoulders sagged as if Paula had a magical touch that took all her sorrows away. "I love you."

Would it be a betrayal to herself if she cried again because she certainly felt like it? "I love you, too."

When a lone tear traced her cheek and fell down to the table, Paula laughed and slapped her arm, fighting her own set of tears that traced her gray eyes. "Don't cry! You're making me cry, too!"

Brie couldn't help but laugh as well. "It's your fault!"

"You know what, let's just stop this pity-parade and do something for ourselves."

She frowned. "Like what?"

Paula wiggled her brows, instantly fear filled her. Paula had the tendency to be impulsive. Her pink hair was enough to prove that. Brie's friend leaned in close, voice hushed and eyes twinkling with mischief. "Girls day out."