About Kismet

10

Wesley stayed silent as he walked out of the building with Mathew.

He was still reeling from seeing Kismet after some three years. She was one of the few people who didn't use social media. 

When he felt he was spiraling, he could only rely on the some few polaroid pictures he had of her from university. 

But pictures didn't do her justice. 

Her hair hung at her waist now, still thick and the same dark brown color he had grown to hate over the years. Because he couldn't appreciate the color on anyone else, besides her.

She looked taller, although he doubted her height changed, given she was in her early 20's when they last talked. It might have had something to do with the way she carried herself.

He had felt like he was intruding, with the way she tried so hard to avoid his searching eyes.

And her face. The skin that used to hold the faintest tan, was now paler than he remembered. It had to do with the winter sun; with little power to tint her skin.

Her few freckles stood out on her nose and cheeks, dark as ever. More than he remembered. He would call them beauty marks, for their prominence on her skin.

She had lost whatever little baby fat was on her—her bone structure more prominent, more defined.

It was her eyes that hadn't changed in the least. The different colored, hazel and green irises; long, dark eyelashes framing them.

She was still a thing of beauty.

He was drawn out of his thoughts as Mathew cleared his throat. Once more, he didn't say anything, only helping him get into the passenger side of the car as he set his wheelchair in the back.

He rounded to the other side, climbing in and starting the car. It was a few moments later that Mathew attempted again.

"That was her?"

Mathew and Wesley had become best friends only two years ago, despite having been on the same team for over three years. They initially hated each other, for reasons now unknown to them.

So, Mathew knew of Kismet. Wesley would speak of her on the occasion he was drunk. He was able to put two and two together.

Wesley nodded in answer to his question, still silent.

A moment later, he exhaled harshly, caving in. "You know, on the one hand, I want to forget her."

"But?" Mathew prompted.

He sighed. "But on the other hand, I know that she's the only person in the universe that made me happy," he recited, completing the quote. 

He didn't care if it sounded dramatic. She was the only one. He was not a relationship guy, it was only ever casual among him and girls. But for her—for her, he would get married the following day.

Mathew pursed his lips. He knew how deep his friend's feelings ran for Kismet.

Most of the guys in their mid-twenties were split into two categories. On one end of the spectrum were men in healthy, committed relationships, well-engaged or married. On the other end were the single, heartbroken men or, then, the bachelors.

Mathew and Wesley were a fruity mocktail of single, heartbroken bachelors.

The majority of the drive back to their place was silent, both men lost in thought.

It had been three years, and Wesley still faltered at the sight of her.

Mathew couldn't understand his feelings though. She had left him— they were best friends, maybe more, but she had left— without a trace, too.