Inkling | rejected & unpublished short stories

Chalkzone

"I got your photograph but baby, I need more than that"

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He was the sweetest single inedible thing I ever encountered in my life. Well, at that time he was single. Now, I could safely call him mine without being attacked by reality. Nonetheless, whenever I proclaimed that he was mine, it felt as if my fists could never really wrap around the term tightly. My hands felt loose. As if he was never entirely mine. When I told him this, he told me that I was being silly and spent five minutes reassuring me that he was all mine to claim, no one else's.

He liked me first. I never looked at him more than two seconds because I knew I would never stand a chance. But I had plenty doses of two seconds back then. Soon enough, the two seconds were reduced to a one second skit of the eye because somehow, every time I looked at him he had his eyes on me. I remembered how that cluster of one seconds gave me a nest of butterflies that could last quite hours depends on the place and situation, on and off. Denying that he was looking at me was the easiest way to exit my insecurities. I began to experiment with other guys, any other guy I could set eyes on just to prove the hopeful part in me wrong. Two-second glances while they're not looking. I even expanded it to five seconds with some guys. Usually at the sixth seconds, most of them will look up in oddity and ask what was up. None of them looked at me like Blaze did.

Now, he could not even look at me as I stood in front of him. He was laughing with the person beside him, eyes crinkled instead of being on me.

I inhaled and closed my eyes.

I love Blaze.

You know that TV show we used to watch when we were kids, the one with magic chalks and the two boys; one wearing the blue half-face mask and the other regular boy. The whole scenes were grainy—in the way cartoons were interesting, as if drawn by chalk itself. Every one in my gang adored the show. They had these chalks that could teleport them anywhere they want to save their lives. Back then it was relatable because the teachers used blackboards and everyone in the class had touched chalk before. I used to hate the white dust coating my hands when I had to pick up the chalk on the floor. I fell asleep during English because the teacher was making us memorise past tenses so she threw the chalk all the way from the front and it hit my cheek. Now whenever Blaze isolated me or did not treat me as special as he used to, I shut my eyelids and imagined I had the magic chalk in my hands. I would picture myself drawing a circle and ask to teleport myself to the past when Blaze loved me as much as I loved him. Back when the feelings were the same and growing. I imagined the time and place where love never fades. And I could breathe again.

It was my way of remembering that I loved Blaze and that I should bear with him no matter what.

"Don't worry, I got this," he said as we stood in front of the café cashier. I thought he was talking to me but when I looked to the side to thank him, he was grinning to one of his classmates.

"How much for my ice cream?" I asked the cashier, ignoring the sharp feelings that pricked me.

I inhaled and closed my eyes.

I love Blaze.

Magic chalks in my hand again. I drew a circle and stepped into the past. Blaze used to never let me pay for my food. "You love food and I love you. So grant me the pleasure to treat you the things you love, my love."

"That's a lot of L word in one sentence," I laughed.

"L for Lala," he winked, making my stomach flutter when he said my name.

I love Blaze so I will bear with him then and now.

"What a beauty," I heard Blaze whistle one day and felt my heart stop. Did he mean me? I was walking behind him and his group of friends with him unnoticing. I looked up and felt my heart sank like a canoe with a hole at the bottom when I saw that his eyes were on the same classmate he paid for yesterday.

I inhaled and closed my eyes.

I love Blaze.

I took out my imaginary chalk and drew the giant circle. I stepped into the time when Blaze would shower me with compliments head to toe—like the Carrie Junior body and hair shampoo. I was the most and only beautiful girl he knew. He could never take his eyes off me.

In the middle of a conversation, he would stop suddenly and say, "Lala, you're very beautiful, you know." And I would baffle and stutter and lose words I owned at the tip of my tongue. He would chuckle, "Now you're just being adorable."

I loved him, I told myself again. I shook my head and stormed away. It was getting harder to convince myself lately.

One day, I guessed I just ran out of magic chalks.

"Where are you going?" I asked him on a Tuesday afternoon, knowing full well that he was uncomfortable when I asked him about his whereabouts. That day I just could not care less. I was his other half and I had never asked him that for a month now. I deserved to know.

He turned around slowly on his feet and sighed, "I'm going to the basketball tournament."

"But today's schedule is girl's matches," I said flatly.

"I want to support a classmate," he answered.

I inhaled and closed my eyes.

I love Blaze.

But did he?

I felt around for my magic chalks but could not find anymore in my head.

"I don't want to teleport anymore. I want to walk away."

"Lala," his face changed, "What are you saying? What do you mean?"

"It's over, Blaze. Please stop forcing me to go to the past to remind myself that I love you. Let me go if you can't be my present tense. But nevermind. It's over. All the best in life ahead," I said, kicking myself mentally for the word vomit. I could have ended it with a more epic speech. But maybe he never deserved anything epic anyway. I pushed my hands in my pockets, humming to distract whatever comes after break ups—you know, the things in movies that made the actors crumple and double over. My fist hit a solid object in my pockets and I took it out only to find a white chalk in it. I turned around and saw Blaze still frozen.

"In case you need to teleport to the happiness you used to ignore till it leaves you," I shouted and threw him the chalk with all my might. It hit his cheek, I was positive.

Flawlove's Notes:

Warnings should be at the top and pre things but whatever. WARNING: This story has a lot of narratives and very little dialogues.

Story written for one of my friend. I've heard her story and I'm not that close to her or whatever so I can't sit with her and tell her the things I want to say to her. First, you don't do that with people who are just friends. Second, I'm not even sure if the stories I heard were true but I was seriously triggered and inspired to pen my message down. So I wrote her this story. And yes, I'm being darn obvious with some details although the story line is entirely made-up on my plane seat in the dark. If you know who I'm writing about then shh. Not a lot of people from college read Inkling till this far anyway so it won't stir too much controversy. I just want to get my message across.