him

I have never written about him before. Probably because I, myself, was fighting a war raged within provoked by every interaction, every eye contact. Would anyone believe this if I say I had tried to be strict with myself, restraining that liberal part of my consciousness which I am so afraid of, but no matter how much I tried, I failed. I am failing right now. I failed the moment I decided I was going to write about him tonight.

I can't tell the exact day that i saw him, rather it was a series. I saw him a lot everyday, in the hallways. I made the mistake of telling  my fancy to a friend. I didn't think much of it then, didn't think much of him either. Then came the dark times. Peril in the house, war and blood and tears everywhere. Times in which, if not physically, I had needed someone to hold me up. In those times, he came like a blessing. I made the gravest mistake of giving his face a human personality. In my head, he did and said everything I had needed someone to do and say. But whenever I saw him in real life, I shared that lonely part of me to him through my eyes. He never saw it, the gratefulness I held for him. I was, every passing day, falling for someone who existed but not really.

Then one day, came an invitation of a game and a gamble with the devil himself. I lost and had to fill him up with the one secret that made me blush. With much reluctance, I told, he striked. Went up to him and asked him, "That damsel there, do you know her?" A shake of a head. "She claims you with admiration". I could see and hear everything but a thousand times clearer. My breath halting, my mind numbing. I saw a faint colour to his cheeks but didn't wait for his reply. I should have. Pure lunacy, I was morbid. I raged to the devil but he just sent new messengers everyday reminding him of my claim. I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. Maybe it was pure paranoia or pressure that led me talk to him for the first time.

I had hoped my first words to him were everything clever and wise, witty and smart, funny and goofy, laced with love but unfortunately, they were the denial of everything we might have shared, clever and wise, witty and smart, funny and goofy, lovely and memorable, all of it down the drain. At the end of my recital, he had smiled morosely and asked me again if I was sure. I had nodded so unwillingly. I was disappointed then but had some hope. Yet the devil and his folks didn't stop. They claimed my words false and my feelings for him true. They claimed it to the point of my misery and his annoyance. Our second and last meeting wasn't as pretty. I wore my scared, loose words and he wound up with a snap at me. My heart sank under his angry glare. Till that day to this, all we did was steal glances and look away. 

After months, I had allowed myself to feel something. For the first time in a while, it wasn't accidental stares but a smolder of a look that he gave me. I couldn't speak for a few decent minutes. I let myself feel too much. If it's good or bad, I can't say. If he's in my future or not, I can't say. But if there's anything I'd like to say to him, then it'd be just two words, perhaps meaning much more to me than him. I'd say: Thank you