In Between The Stars

Games

I'm on my way to college the next morning when I hear someone whistle behind me. I pivot, ready to bash the person left, right and centre, only to come across my haggard stalker.

"I could have punched your nose into your skull for that." I threaten him. I notice that he's in the same clothes as yesterday, as ever.

"For what?" he asks, befuddled.

"For whistling. I'm not your dog."

"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you." He says sincerely. "I'm sorry."

"You better be." I tell him and start walking. He quickly catches up and begins striding by my side.

"They didn't go out after all, did they?" He asks.

"I don't know."

"Why do you like that dimwit anyway?" He queries. I turn to glower at him.

"It's none of your business." I bark. "Why would you just assume that I like the guy or whatever? I mean, I don't even know your name for heaven's sake. You could be a machete killer for all I know. You can't just pretend like you know stuff. Plus you're odd and sort of creepy and....."

"I know! I know!" He cuts me off. "I know that this is extremely screwed up. But I swear I will cause you no harm intentionally. And as for your guy, you are too predictable with him, a sitting duck. Try playing hard-to-get. He just thinks you're cute, nothing more. So change that."

"So you read minds as well?" I ask sarcastically. Did he just call me a sitting duck?!

"No. He's just a walking, talking bag of testosterone governed by ego. Not complex at all."

"And you are different?" I ask him huffily.

"Trust me," He says in a quiet tone. "I would give anything to be that and not this."

I decide not to probe him further and we walk in silence for a few minutes.

"Dylan." He says, looking up at the sky.

"What?"

"Name. You can call me Dylan."

"I don't want to call you anything." I say grumpily. He snaps his head to look at me.

"I didn't choose your acquaintance." He growls, suddenly irate. "I have no other option. As much as I want to leave, I can't. I'm stuck with you."

He turns and stomps away, leaving me alone with my puzzled thoughts.

***

I find Nick and Kriya standing together in the hallway. Although I'm a little piqued, I'm also relieved that they are just talking and aren't brushing and rubbing against each other or something.

Try playing hard to get.... I remember his words.

Nick spots me and opens his mouth to say something, but I swiftly look away and stroll past them.

***

Standing in the line for food at the cafeteria, I keep throwing expectant glances at the door. Trisha, after numerous attempts at trying to start a conversation with me, ultimately gives up and begins nattering with Nitin in front of her.

Nick finally enters with Kriya on his arm and, after hastily examining the whole place, offers me a wide grin. I simply nod and look away, not before noticing Kriya shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

I'm obviously new to this and I have no clue if I'm doing it right. But I realise that the plan is working after all when, a little while later, Nick walks up to our table with a smile on his face.

"Akira? Can I talk to you for a moment?" He asks me.

"Yes." I say flatly and he looks unsure.

"Are you planning on attending tuitions this evening?"

"Why? You want to borrow my notes again?" I snap. It is surprisingly easy to be cross with him. I feel Trisha and Nitin's eyes on me, they have no idea why I'm behaving this way, with Nick of all people.

"No..."he says, looking uncomfortable. "Just asking..."

He hovers there for a few moments, and when I don't respond, he quietly walks away.

***

I saunter home thinking that I've taken this hard-to-get game a little too far when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and unlock the screen.

A text. From Nick.

A bunch of us are going out to the movies tonight. I really hope you can make it. Call me if you wish to come.
Nick.

My hands are shaking so bad that I almost drop the phone. Is it really for me this time?!

***

DYLAN'S POV

As I get closer, a gust of wind from within the house hits my nose. It is the nauseous stink of hospital. All such houses smell the same.

I walk in through the open main door and look around for the room I want. There are about a hundred framed photos hanging on the gay yellow walls. Black and white pictures of an old gang of girlfriends, a young couple on their wedding day, several photos depicting the childhood and teenage years of three children and seven grandchildren, and a large collection of snaps of beloved pets.

The woman has lived a full life with loads of love and memories. But that won't make it any easier.

I walk into her room, but what I see isn't what I had expected. The room isn't overflowing with medical equipment but is simply decorated with a modest sofa, a single bed and a table by it. The lady is lying on the bed, her eyes closed, cradling an old photo against her weak chest.

I know, without seeing, that the photo is not of her husband's or any of her kids or grandkids. It is the picture of a nineteen year old boy in a white shirt and beige shorts, with lively grey eyes and ears too big for his face. The boy who stole her heart during the sixteenth fall of her life and never really returned it. The one that got away.

She gently opens her ancient eyes, her silver locks swaying with the soft wind blowing through the only window in her room, and looks at me.

She's special: a lucky soul. Not everyone sees me. A tender smile adorns her pristine face.

"Finally." She says in a voice softer than a whisper. "I've waited too long."

It is cancer, I realise. Almost all of her is already gone. She doesn't have a lot left to give up and I'm a little relieved by that.

I stride over to her bed and take her fragile hands in my rough ones.

"You ready?" I

ask.

She smiles tiredly and nods. A long slit, resembling a bolt of lightning, comes into existence in the ceiling above us and, eventually, widens to form a gaping hole through which blindingly brilliant light is shed upon us.

I open my being to the woman and, as she passes through me, I feel everything at once. Every slip, every emotion, every kiss, every touch, every sight and every agony of her life sears my entire body as I direct it to the world waiting above.

But it isn't as painful this time for I hold her memory as a shield. Her large brown eyes, her long, dark curls, those irked glances, they make everything much more bearable.

As the final pieces of the old lady leaves my body, I collapse onto the floor. The golden dust, the ash of her soul filled with her most treasured memories, swirls for a few moments within me before settling in my eyes.

The lady's two sons and daughter are in the kitchen and it will take them full ten minutes to find out.

So I let myself rest for a little bit as I recall the merry echo of Akira's laughter.