Story 2 | Finally Learn Your Lesson
It was just a subtle touch, she tried to remind herself. An accidental brush of hands. Nothing more.
But then, if it didn't mean anything, if it was an accident, why was it that she could still feel his touch lingering on her skin even after two weeks of hearing nothing from him?
"At the end of the day, you are not the exception."
Y/N shook her head, drawing back the curtains to permit the morning sunlight into the house. It was only the beginning of the day and she didn't need those voices of reason to yell in her head while she was enjoying her coffee. However, the sight in front of her wasn't exactly enjoyable. She took another sip and leaned against the windowpane, scanning the road half hopeful, half hopeless. It had become a part of her daily routine to stay there and pine by the front yard, hoping to see a trace of him. Maybe he'd be walking past the bushes and head in her direction. Maybe he'd hide behind a tree, waiting for her to look out and notice him. Maybe he'd sneak a letter in the mailbox, only addressed to her.
But her coffee had gone cold again, and there was no sign of him. Just like yesterday. Just like last week.
That wasn't much of a problem though.
"Maybe he's busy with work. Maybe he's fallen sick. Maybe he has plans... for me, for us. Maybe..." She nodded to herself, standing up to empty the cup in the sink. She could come up with thousands of reasons to justify his absence and lull her lonesome heart just to survive another day.
She was used to waking up and finding herself as her only companion in the silence of the house. Her parents had left early for work and they wouldn't return until evening. She stood in the middle of the hallway, wondereding why she got out of bed at all.
Kids were playing, laughing and splashing water over each other in the backyard of next door house. They had recently moved in. Maybe she could visit the neighbors and then use it as an excuse to check her mailbox again. It was a tempting idea. But she stopped herself before turning the doorknob. She already knew it was empty.
If he wanted to come around, he would.
That wasn't a problem either.
Summer days couldn't be that boring.
Because in her head, she wasn't alone.
A small smile appeared on her face as she tucked herself back in the comfor of her bed, turning into a giggle as she unknowingly traced her fingers over that unforgettable spot on her arm. Right where he'd touched. Her eyes closed and just like that, he was lying next to her.
She could soothe her longing by creating sweeter endings and alternative events in her head. She could fall into a deep sleep while he was holding her. She could prepare coffee every morning and feel way too delighted about it, because in her head there were two mugs, two chairs, and two cheerful laughs that effortlessly broke the silence of every desrted atmosphere.
He would kiss her good morning. He would kiss her good night. He would kiss her whenever it was right. And to her, it always felt right. Then he would hug her lonely nights away. He would drink in her happy smiles. He would grin from ear to ear when she was giddy. He would wipe her tears when she was hopeless. He would give her more of his endless love on the days she felt unlovable.
And it was all in her dreams.
Did he know any of that? No
Did she want him to know? Maybe
She had a creative imagination. Was it a blessing or a curse?
Y/N didn't know the answer, but an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach was telling her that in reality, something wasn't really right. She ignored it again. It would be soon forgotten beneath the comfortable blanket of her reverie. She liked to imagine, after all.
It all had started weeks ago, at the beginning of summer.
She was standing by the front stairs, taking in the view of the lush landscape that surrounded her. It was a year since she had left the small town for college, and beside the yearning she had for her old home, the serene and tranquil atmosphere of the nature was something she could never find in big, bustling cities.
Minutes ago her mom had called her in for afternoon tea, but it was impossible for her take her eyes off the alluring sight and cage herself in the solid walls of the house. Plus, she didn't exactly enjoy hearing and watching the news, or being close to any source that bore it. That was the reason she walked towards the front lawn to avoid the buzzing sound of television that came from inside. Her hand traced over the rustling leaves. They were still warm. The sun was glinting over the blades of grass. But despite the heat, flocks of birds were chirping and flying above in the sky, easily enticing her.
It was refreshing. She felt content.
"Young lady," A familiar voice suddenly called from across the street. Y/N turned her head towards the direction it came from, waving back at the old couple who were watering their small flower garden. The lady beckoned her to approach them. She crossed the road, a smile tugging at her lips upon seeing their genuine ones.
She sat and chatted with them for a while, feeling comfortable in their easy, unrushed approach to life.
"This potty telly of ours has decided to act up today. Would you be kind enough to get us an extra copy of weekly newspaper when you visit the town?" Her long-time neighbor said softly, handing over a basket of freshly picked strawberries. They always used to do it when she was a kid. Happy memories nearly brought tears to her eyes.
She quickly strode back and pulled her bicycle out of the garage. She still didn't like anything that was somehow related to the news, but she couldn't say no to their kind request.
The ride didn't take long and soon she had pedaled her way past the towering trees, nearing the slightly restless and unquiet side of the town. The center. Her wandering gaze caught sight of the weathered exteriors of a small kiosk by the local park, and she slowed down her pace, coming to a stop. Her senses were instantly engulfed by the almond-like, woodsy scent of paper as her hands searched over the neatly stacked rows of newspapers and magazines. There were journals from all sorts and kinds, right beside a few prints of books.
Eager to hurry up and give her old neighbors what they'd asked for, she finally picked a copy, looking up.
And there he was.
She never believed in the stories girls at school and dormitories used to recount nonstop. She never understood the feelings that kept them up all night, not because they weren't true, but because her heart had never been touched so deeply. But her stomach did an involuntary somersault when he handed her the folded newspaper, smiling a little too brighly under the orange and red hues of the setting sun.
And that was it.
She still didn't like the news, but there was no harm in getting those papers for her neighbours again.
Even if it meant she had to go back there more than once, twice or more times than it was necessary throughout the week. Even if it meant she would have a rosy face and wide grin on the way back home.
And so it went on. She found herself caught up in the rare and frequent dreams that kept on appearing in her head.
Soon enough, all she could think about beside the blue sky and red strawberries, was him. Those tiny dimples, slow drawls, confident eyes, glossy hair, sleeved back shirts. His flaws and his perfections. His cheerful moments and gloomy weathers. His busy days at the newsstand and then the more quiet ones. It was all about him, him, and him. Whenever he talked excitedly about something, she imagined how it'd be if he talked about her with that much interest and glint in his eyes. Whenever he held a book, she imagined how it would feel if it was her he was holding in his arms. Whenever he ran a hand through his hair to comb it back, she imagined it was her own hand caressing those silky smooth locks. Maybe someday...
Until then... he was living rent-free in her head.
She didn't want him to be the only thought that occupied her mind, but then she wanted it too. It was a candy-coated reverie. It was a delicate bubble. She wanted it.
In one of those visits, he'd walked her down the park and found a comfortable bench in a corner for the both of them. That day, she learned that he wanted to be a journalist after graduating, spurring her to talk about her plans and dreams and wishes in life. And then in the middle of the conversation, his fingers brushed against hers for a split second. She had to swallow the flip flops of her stomach with a nervous laugh. She had to pause for a breath of fresh, earthy-scented air. She had to resist the urge to drown in the depth of his steady gaze. He was becoming a part of those dreams and wishful thoughts of her, but he didn't need to know it yet. Or ever.
He didn't need to know how she was staying up some nights, not able to get his picture out of her mind and slow down the impatient beating of her feeble heart.
He didn't need to know how she was struggling to stay sane and not zone out at any given time. He didn't need to know who was the reason she lost focus in that particular family meeting on Saturday night and ended up staring dreamily at somewhere in the space.
"...I'll bring you weekly newspapers. It's not far from where I live."
He had suggested once while accompanying her past the towering trees on the way home. And that was it. More attention, just to keep her hopes too high. She'd silently thanked him and averted her attention to the bumpy road, unable to hide the blush that slowly creeped up her cheeks. Her temperature was jumping up without permission. She could blame it all on the season's unbearable heat.
"Anytime, bonita."
Follish one, don't lose focus. Just don't.
Bonita.
They slowly went from strangers to acquaintances.
After that promise, she found herself more drawn into watching the news on television as she waited in anticipation for a glimpse of him showing up at her door. He was almost always on time, leaving no space for the voices of uncertainty that flew every once in a while in her head. She was good at pretending. She did her best to seem bulletproof.
Until it all reduced to nothing.
Two weeks without him turned to three weeks. He hadn't written or showed up or even called her. The mailbox was empty.
He had asked her to stay home and wait for his news. She didn't want to break that promise, possibly hurt him and ruin what was going on between them.
Then again, what was the situation between them?
"Don't you know that he treats everybody like this? Kind, polite, cordial?"
"Don't you know that he saves newspapers for any other frequent visitor?"
"Don't you know that you are not the exception?"
She shook her head again, clutching the blanket closer to her aching chest as her eyelids felt heavy.
Before she knew it, she was imagining a sweeter ending again. In her scenario, there was a loud, urgent knock on the door. She went up to check and see who was in such a hurry. It was him, standing by the doorway and drenched from head to toe. Droplets of water were dripping from his disheveled hair, leaving dark spots on the porch as he panted to catch his breath. He pushed the door fully open and grabbed her wrest in his cold hand, pulling her into a tight hug. A shy smile escaped her as he cupped her face and leaned over for a quick, fervent kiss. He then whispered a soft "I missed you so much." against her lips and easily picked her up, rushing down the stairs to spin her around in the heavy rain. She squealed and laughed and forgave that boy. That was enough to erase her sorrowful memories.
He didn't like the rain, but he would walk in it for her. In her dreams.
Maybe someday when they got older, they'd sit and laugh about her unnecessary worries. He would sit on the sofa, watch the news and sip his coffee. The one she had made for him.
Her lips twitched in a hopeful smile. It seemed like she wasn't going to learn her lesson.
.......
Hours waned in a blur.
A flah of lightning crackled against the window, awakening Y/N with a jolt. She sat upright, gasping as two more strikes lit up the sky beyond the curtains.
She rubbed her eyes and peered out the window. The atmosphere had shifted abruptly, totally different from the swelteringly hot hours she last remembered. Dark clouds were gathering overhead, transforming the clear, blue sky into an ominous canvas with shades of gray and white. A distant rumble resonated through the air, signaling the arrival of a long-awaited rainfall.
It was no wonder. Summer was nearly over.
A distant memory flashed through her mind and seconds later she was bolting out of the house, pedaling fast against the roaring wind as the familiar canopy of trees and branches and leaves threw dappled shadows against her path. It was almost as if they wanted to shelter her from what was to come, but she couldn't wait and admire the nature, not when her heart was pounding with impatience and worry.
He didn't like rainy weathers.
Now she could use it as an excuse to visit him and make sure he was doing all right.
And there he was.
Her feet came to a halt when she spotted him hastily marching out of the kiosk and locking its weathered door. He squinted his eyes and looked up a few times at the darkened clouds before turning around, two magazines in one hand.
She nearly jumped off her bicycle, but stopped herself from doing so as her heart stopped beating for a moment.
He was there, but not alone. He was being pulled into a hug, right in front of his newsstand. Then he leant down for a quick kiss, right in front of that same old park. When he pulled back, he still held the girl close in his arms, handing her one of the journals as a mere shield from possible drops of rain. Seconds later, they strode down the street, leaving behind a long trail of their carefree laughter as they disappeared among the crowds.
Her bubble snapped.
They went from strangers to acquaintances, and then to strangers again. In the blink of an eye.
She stood there for an eternity, paralyzed, unmoving and shocked. The first droplets descended from the sky, delicately caressing her cheeks, but her tears were by no means delicate and soft. They were bitter, hopeless, suffocating. Pictures of passersby who ran past her in search of a shelter against the storm blurred into unrecognizable shades.
Those tiny dimples, slow drawls, confident eyes, glossy hair, sleeved back shirts. She had the things everybody already had seen from him. She was no exception.
But he had someone to hold in his arms. He had someone to drown in his caring eyes. He had someone to send his confessions of love to. He had someone and it wasn't her.
She should've known why she never liked the news. Him having another girl in his arms was news to her, and oh... wasn't it breaking her into pieces?
Her trembling feet relentlessly pedaled on the bicycle, matching the turmoil that was bubbling up inside her. The sky had turned darker, weeping and mourning along with her as the rhythmic patter of heavy raindrops created a melancholic symphony, echoing through the desolate streets. Her sobs mingled with the roaring sound of the thunder, the muddy ground squelching with each rotation of the bicycle's wheels.
Her vision was too blurry to notice where she was going. The world around her seemed colorless and foreign, making her quicken her desperate ride through the rainfall. It was nothing compared to the storm that was raging within her.
And then it happened. The wheels gave in to the slippery pathway and she suddenly collided with a solid, unyielding object, losing her balance and tumbling down on the mud-soaked ground.
It hurt. In more ways than one.
Her head began spiraling as she spotted streaks of muck on her hands, knees and clothes. Her frustration pushed over and made her pluck a tuft of soaked grass in her clenched fist. She spitefully flung the green blades aside, peering around the desrted, grey landscape of her town.
Could it get any worse?
She sat there in anguish and despair, the pain of collision gradually shooting up her limbs. Her fingers bitterly pushed the sodden strands of hair away from her forehead and she tilted her head up to see what had brought her to this unnecessary addition of misery. Fresh tears flooded her vision. She had crashed against the same mailbox that once kept her hopes too high.
Now the same one had brought her too low, on the ground of reality.
"How could I not see the signs?"
She thought to herself, shuddering as choked sobs shook her body and the rainfall muffled each sound that dared to escape from her aching throat. The answer was already there. The voices in her head were already telling her why. She never was an exception for him. She had knowingly broken her heart over something that never existed in the first place.
It was all a figment of her imagination, wasn't it? It was nameless, nonexistent, and not meant to turn into something bigger.
It was unrequited too, all made up in her never-ending dreams. It wasn't just designed to become a reality. And she had risked it all by ignoring the signs.
How foolish.
She shook her head and pursed her quivering lips together as realization finally dawned on her, bright and clear. Its bitterness made her wish she could go back in time. It made her wish she wasn't such a dreamer. It was a blessing and a curse, filling her days with hopeful thoughts at first, then ruining the bubble she so hopefully had made for herself.
But it wasn't the end of the world, right?
A cold shiver ran down her spine as a gust of wind rattled the towering trees. She had to get herself out of the catastrophic puddle of mud and water she was trapped in.
Her sore arms reached forward to hold onto her bicycle, groaning as a sharp pain stabbed her back like a dagger. Her eyes caught sight of a shiny object covered with mud. The broken pieces of her bicycle's front mirror. She held one of the shards up, brushing the soil off its surface and watching as fresh drops of rain blemished her reflection with rapidity and determination. She stared at what she had done to her picture. It was shattered.
She brought it up, softly kissing her broken picture. She surely was going to grieve while putting the pieces back together. But she wasn't going to stay hurt forever. The journey was long. She was still learning.
This was another lesson.
The rest would be forgotten very soon.
She didn't have to feel small. There was still so much courage, passion, fire and life inside her that her curious mind hadn't explored yet. She could still forgive herself for her small mistakes. Her day was gonna come. Her confessions of love would arrive in letters some day. And that day, she would sit and sip her coffee with her lover, laughing at her unnecessary worries.
"Follish one. Your day is gonna come."
He just wasn't the one who could do any of it for her.
All was said and done.
She blinked the tears away, standing up on her feet.
She had finally learnt her lesson.
"He just wasn't the one."
She was going to make sure that was the only sad headline in her news.