One Shots #VariaSquad

Na Sikha Jeena Tere Bina Humdum

Set some point in the future, you can decide when. 

Sorry in advance. Gonna hide now, see you at the end. 

She used to light up the world when she walked into the room, at least that's what he always said. Everyone teased him for it and eventually he learnt that it was really only his world that got brighter. Nobody could deny that she was someone who was easy to be around, someone who made the atmosphere a little lighter, could make people smile without thought. She was the light of his life; he looked at her like she was the sun and the moon and all the stars too. 

Used to. Said. Was. 

He hates that he has to think of these things in past tense, hates that he can't say that anymore. Now, when she walks into a room, he feels a little more of him drain away, feels like someone's sucked the energy away. Nobody teases him for that because nobody knows. How is he supposed to tell anybody that he feels physically sick when he looks at her and sees the effect of the way she overworks herself? Of the pain he feels when he sees the fake smile that hides the exhaustion and sadness? To other people, she's still someone who's easy to be around, still someone who can always pull a smile out. It is only him that avoids her, and he avoids her like the plague. 

People talk, he hears it. He knows what they think of him, knows that people call him fake and heartless but for once, he doesn't care. They don't know what he feels, they shouldn't judge him. But they do and, though he doesn't care about their words, the fact that even those closest to him believe that he's the bad guy hurts. 

What nobody understands is that it's not his fault. It's not like it's her fault either but it certainly isn't his. He doesn't know what happened, doesn't know how but the light in her eyes had dimmed at some point, gotten duller and duller till there wasn't even the tiniest spark. He'd held on, held on as tight as he could but there was less and less to hold onto. As the light went out, she lost herself and, in the end, they both knew he had to let go. She told him to, even as he fought her, she told him to just leave her alone, there was no getting better and she didn't want to hold him back. He told her no, said it would get better, they'd work together and figure it out but she's always been stubborn and he had long since learnt that there were some fights he wouldn't win. 

He'd told himself he wouldn't look back as he walked away but he hadn't been able to help it and he'd turn to look at her. She'd given him a small smile as if to say it's okay, you need to go, I'll be fine and that last little glint in her eyes had gone out, taking his light with it. 

The image still haunts him, even when almost two years have past. Every night, he sees her face, the sadness, the exhaustion, the strange unexplainable look of relief. He wakes up tangled in his sheets, sweating and panting, lost in the nightmare for an endless moment, trying to find her, go back to her, tell her he's not leaving. And then he realises it was a nightmare and, for a minute, he relaxes, thinks everything is okay. He breathes easy for those precious few seconds and then reality fully catches up to him and he realises it's not okay because he already left and his world comes crashing down around him.

If she could see him in those moments, she'd go into instant panic mode, trying to figure out what was wrong and then she'd scold him, tell him he's being too hard on himself and it's not his fault but she'd hug him and soothe him anyway, hum softly and murmur words of comfort until the tears go away. 

He knows exactly what she'd say to him, could hear the words as clearly as if she were sat next to him; it's okay VD, it's not on you, this is all on me. It does nothing to help, only makes him cry harder.

On the rare occasions that he sees her, his chest constricts and he finds it hard to breathe. The air seems to get thicker, heavier, harder to inhale and exhale. It's on those nights that the nightmares are the worst. He sees the what-if's and could-have-been's and he sees them falling apart too. It's like a knife ripping through him, watching the scenes of a happy life play out, letting himself be fooled by it until suddenly he's hearing those same words and they're having the same argument and his world is torn apart again.