The Shade's Of You. | ✓

22

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Sophia.

When I were younger, maybe around eight or twelve, my bestfriend and I used to gush and dream about our futures, about our future homes and guys and weddings.

But secretly I knew what I wanted, I wouldn't say it out loud or admit it to my bestfriend friend even because honestly, nobody would have understood my intentions, my feelings and my very own beliefs about many things.

I hated the thought of marriage, loathed it.

My mother would always glorify the whole marriage concept to me but this meaning to fuck it all up? It was in my genes, just waiting to explode on someone.

I'm not wrong in my beliefs.

Marriage is great, beautiful even but not always.

There is always that small percentage in marriages that last and marriages that don't last. And in my family, it never last, and it always seems to be fucking cursed.

All I needed was someone, anyone, to love me and be with me throughout my life time and not just stick with me because of some signed paper that bonds us together for the rest of our lifes— no, I wanted someone to stay because they wanted to, because they wanted to love me.

Our bond should be stronger than some piece of paper.

The concept of love though, that has always been intriguing to me and I would often watch people who seemed to be in love or people who were in love for years.

People like, Mr and Mrs Finley or Mr and Mrs Mckenzie.

They loved each other so much that the love shone through their eyes when they loved at their loved ones. It was the greatest love that I had ever witnessed.

So special and so pure.

I know that naturally every romantic couple is bound to have problems and arguments some time along the way but I know it couldn't be as bad as my parents toxic relationship— anything is better than that. The point of my bitter speech here is, relationships can be fixed when things go wrong but sometimes love can not— love is glass and fragile, once it cracks, it's over forever.

A heavy sigh leaves from my slightly chapped lips as I hitch my bag up higher on my shoulder and tell my feet to continue walking towards the entrance of this place.

“Sophia? Hi.” Someone greets and comes to stand beside me. I look up at the familiar dark haired boy and smile, a real one. “It's me, Kyvan, if you've forgotten already.” He adds after a short pause, he glances at me and smiles.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I remember you, Ky. If I remember correctly, and I do, don't you sit next to me in literature?” I tease and playfully poke his side.

Kyvan Maveas, is this cute foreign guy that attends my college and forcefully sits next to me in literature— even when I said, no I don't want a partner and I really prefer to sit alone. He wouldn't listen or budge so eventually I had given up and we've been friends since last year.

He had dark brown hair that matched his thick brows and a crooked nose and a kind smile, he is a good friend.

“How was your break then?” He asks.

I almost freeze, almost. Instead I shrug, “Basically boring. I hate to run shop and take care of the twins, as usual.” I half lie. “How was yours?” I ask as I rush past him.

There is a window seat!

“Uh, kind of similar— except I don't babysit and I don't have a famous café to run so. . . boring, yeah that's it. It was boring.” He snorts and plops himself down beside me.

I nod my head. In a way to tell him that I've heard what his saying but I don't bother responding or laughing because my eyes are focused on the brown eyed interracial girl slowly walking into the literature class, Lily.

She hates anything related to english studies, in fact she won't even pick up a book to read if her life depended on it. So what was she doing taking this class when she hates everything to do with it? Naturally, because she's my best friend, I would ask her but not today, not anyday.

Lily hasn't tried speaking to me since she's gotten back.

I don't know why and I didn't question it either.

I am not about to run after her, begging for her friendship that she obviously doesn't want me to have. I've accepted that we aren't friends anymore, maybe I've cried about it.

Actually on my first night here I cried about everything and everyone, it's the first and last time I've allowed myself to embrace all of my built up pain throughout the years.

I cried for my mother and her death. I cried about my father who once used to be the shinning star in my eyes. I cried for my ex bestfriend and the sudden lost of our friendship and lastly, I've cried for myself. I cried throughout the night, feeling sorry and pity— pathetic.

It's been three days.

Three days since I've left Santorini.

Three days since I've last seen and spoken to him.

Three days since Roxanne has contacted me.