—thirtyone—
the painful beginnings
AT HACKETT UNIVERSITY, the day after the breakup, Paige never expected that Arthur would turn up in one of their classes together.
He was late during Marketing, and all heads turned to him as he approached their professor, exchanging hushed words with him for a moment. It seemed as though Arthur was informing him about his whereabouts for the past few days.
But his dark, princely stature wasn't what caught the rest of the students' attention.
Paige couldn't help but stare at the relatively big purplish spots right across his cheekbone and his jaw on the other side of his face. It wasn't the nicest match to his white turtleneck and camel overcoat. He was like a white-collared worker, an executive even, who had just got into an accident.
But she knew any better. It raised suspicions among the others, and so in her. This didn't look like an accident at all. Did he get into a fight?
As he scaled up the lecture room, his eyes scanned around for some vacant seats. Unfortunately, for both of them, the only one empty was the seat next to hers, where he usually sat before.
Mossy green orbs then captured her grayish-blues as if it were mechanical. His eyes squinted rather slenderly that suggested he was returning the favor. Because Paige could've averted her eyes away from his, but it was too hard to look away, especially with those bruises forming on his face.
Just as she realized that he was pointedly staring at her, the spell snapped, making her focus down on the lecture. Although the knot sitting in the pit of her stomach was an exception. Even more as he finally occupied the seat beside her.
Who could have roughed him up? Paige shook those thoughts away. Why did she even care?
But, worst of all, why should she not give a damn about someone whom she truly and genuinely care about, anyway? She had been lied to, got her heart trampled on as if it were dust, but hypocrisy wasn't in her book of facts.
Not caring was easier than done. And knowing that now the person who'd made her feel so much was sitting inches away from her, acting like it wasn't a big deal to her would be wiser, although not what she was tough enough to perform.
Because she could almost actually feel, hear her heart being torn apart. Her love for him was bursting at the seams; and just imagine how much pain she had to endure for the rest of the class, for the rest of her life loving him, really, to make up for the amount of losses on that emotional investment.
Accounting insolvency. The net worth appeared to be negative if she were to sort things out on a balance sheet. The liabilities were far greater than the assets.
But this was no accounting, this was real life. This was much more than just a 'loss'. Loss was something you could replace, and for her, it was lethal. This was death.
And so pretense it was−she let her head hung low as her hair fell down on one of side of her face so that he couldn't see her expression. Her eyes fixated on her notes, but she could peer at his fingers drumming haphazardly on his leg every now and then.
His knuckles didn't have a single hint of wound, which seemed to suggest that he didn't fight back to whoever gave him those contusions. It was as though he'd taken all the anger because he knew he deserved it.
But who did it?
"I'm going to fucking kill him," Owen had said to her last night upon returning to the practice.
He deserved to know the truth, she thought. The celebrant herself was missing on the dance practice for the ball and it was the only thing she could do to let him rest easy.
But Owen was easily angered, and she hadn't truly expected for him to be fit to be tied over her own love affairs. Albeit her cheeks had flamed as she belatedly realized that while Owen's friends from The Golden Knights Club had arranged their busy schedules to pencil in as frivolous as a 'dance' just for her, there she was, letting her emotions get the best of her.
So she apologized for being so insensitive and negligent about the whole thing. She had given them a hurried explanation about her recent surgery, the lie seeping out of her lips that it was acting up. Pretty much everyone brushed it off, and not even Archer had figured out that she and his brother were through.
That left her with Owen and Jouwee, or even Cain. But the latter was high unlikely, considering that they were best friends. Cain might even know that his best friend was playing around so the thought of him beating Arthur himself wasn't what she quite imagined.
But how could Owen carry on a fight with Arthur if he didn't know where to find him? And Jouwee−she was just as furious. Initially, she had suggested to not make impulsive decisions about breaking-up with someone, but the moment she explained to her what happened before she got there, her indignation was through the roof.
"I've told you about my own experience about ending a relationship too soon without thinking things through," she'd said with outright coldness seeping in her voice, "so I gave you an advise to fix things up before the wreck gets worst and irreparable. So long as it's worth fighting for, you hold on to it. But this? Paige, this is outrageous! I'm sorry but if I ever see that cheating scumbag again, I will freaking balls him up."
Owen shook his head, his face searing with absolute rage. "No, I will fucking slit his throat and tear his heart out of his stupid chest and let my dogs devour it."
She appreciated their concern, really, but the two were way vengeful and affected than how she'd liked herself to be. Paige hadn't able to suppress much of her amusement at this, because her lips quirked up.
"Guys," said Paige, holding them both around their arms, "I'll handle this on my own. And I don't want to see you locked up in jail, alright? So, take it easy."
Owen rolled his eyes, huffing out an abrupt breath. "How're you so calm about this? That asshole just cheated on you!"
Paige shrugged, lifting up a tight smile. "It's my fault."
Both widened their eyes in disbelief. If she were them, she'd probably have the same reaction too. But she'd tried to see the situation in a more comprehensive standpoint. Because what appeared to be wrong to others could be the only thing that was right for another.
"Your fault?" Owen's eyes turned to grim lines. "Your fault? How can you blame yourself for something you didn't do? Explain it in crystal-clear details because, I swear to god, I will hunt him down and make him pay with all kinds of death, Paige."
Managing his anger hadn't wholly put his bad temper away, by natural means. So she couldn't tell if his ire was caused by this or for an entirely different matter altogether.
A glimmer of doubt surged through her veins, but she'd quickly clamped down those mindless fantasies of hers that suggested a romantic attachment with Owen again.
It was always a psyche thing, those thoughts that spring up on their own and before she knew it, she would already begin to visualize it in seasonable times or whenever she felt she was in dire straits. Like he was the floating hope amidst the sea of sunken relationships.
She nodded sagely, and with a soft voice, she replied, "In some way, it's my fault. Trust me, I know what it feels like better than anyone in this room right now, and I understand where you guys are coming from. But I thought about it. Really thought about it. And I realized that trust is never really a two-way thing, just like love, and it's a risk most of us are willing to take, regardless of how things would turn out−whether the person whom you trusted and love would return the feelings or not."
"Sure." Jouwee scowled, the darkness looming overhead, and stood there all akimbo. "But he lied to you. Right from the start he meant to play with your heart! I'm probably just really pissed at him right now but even if this anger will die down, I don't think you can convince me out of what I feel about him."
Paige bobbed her head at her, jolting another shrug. "I understand. Either way we dive into a relationship with someone because that's just how it is, Jo. Nothing is so sure in this world, except for change, as it is the only constant thing in the world. If this change is meant to make me grow, then I'm quite thankful that he came to teach me a lesson."
She placed her palm flat on her forehead and tilted her head up to the ceiling. "Oh, my lord," she muttered under her breath. "She's hopeless. I can't believe this is happening right now."
While Jouwee succumbed into her frustrations, she turned to Owen who had a deep wrinkle creasing the middle of his eyebrows, his mouth pursed as he stared at her with a calculated look.
"Mr Singh wouldn't be too happy to hear this," she said, referring to his therapist. Perhaps that did the trick, because his countenance marginally softened, although his lips remained shut. "I know how much you hate getting into programs or classes where you have to share your innermost feelings."
She beamed when Owen crossed his arms, his business suit crinkling as he did so. His voice turned several octaves lower like his words were meant for her hearing alone. "I'm not seeing him anymore, for your information. This is purely healthy anger expression. If before I couldn't control it even at the slightest issue, now I've learned to see the difference between what's trivial and what's worth the anger. You can't deny the source of my frustration. It's you we're talking about, Paige."
He paused to sigh, his eyes shut tight that it was evident how much his patience was hanging by a thread. When he opened his eyelids, his gaze was gravitating−a suggestion that he'd wanted her to just look at him, and all of a sudden, he was the focal point of everything there was in the room.
"You don't fucking deserve to be treated like this. I don't care what you think, but you've been pretty worried about him all this while, to make things better between you two because you value people, you value relationships, and yet he made a fool out of you," he gritted his teeth, and if she were to look down at his hands, she would probably see them balling into tight fists, "I know this. I was like him once. Now I'm just trying to get things back the way they used to be. And I'm hopping mad because he doesn't realize what he's done yet. Stupid motherfucker."
"Huh," the corners of Jouwee's lips tilted up into a sneer, "sounds like a love speech to me."
Paige shot her an icy stare, and Jouwee shrugged nonchalantly, but Owen didn't seem to mind the comment. He was very much calm and collected at this point, despite the furious claims.
"Thank you, Owen," she said, as soon as her cheeks went back to normal. "And I really, really am grateful for the concern, the both of you. But we're not having this conversation to plot a murder, you see. I just want to let you in on what's going on with my sudden drama back there. Let's get back to practice, please?"
She'd stared at Jouwee and Jax practicing together while Owen caged her hand in his, stifling a chuckle when her friend had thrown Jax a dark look. The latter simply ignored her and listened to what the dance instructor was saying, making Jouwee's features deepening the aggravation.
The pair was the worst match and the best of enemies. If there were things that could keep her going in the midst of destruction, it would be their petty bickering during hours of practice, Robby's silent company, and Owen's seething anger with a knack for helping her learning the ropes.
"Paige?"
She swept her eyes to Owen. "Hm?"
Paige was too distracted before that she hadn't realized the warmth of his hand down the small of her back. Even through the layers of clothing, his heat was crawling into her until he was nothing but a reminder of sheer comfort.
"I know I've said it one too many times," his tiny dimples showed, making the fine lines of his smile deeper than ever, "but you're going to pull through. Again."
His words sounded like from a time out of mind. Because as she gradually pulled herself out of that trance she'd fallen into, so was her confidence slipping away from her grasp.
Owen had couched the words as an encouragement for something he truly believed in. But as she wrote some pointers on her journal now, still in a coalescence of disbelief, frustration, and loneliness from the way things ended, she couldn't help but start to doubt herself.
You're going to pull through; again.
She was tired−always going back to square one and never even getting towards the good parts, yet. And this time, she wasn't sure if, as what Owen's words were, she was going to pull through.
But where was the again, if she knew within herself that she could hardly pull herself together this time around?
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
Arthur peeked at her.
He had been doing that since the moment he walked into the lecture room, actually. But with her hair draped down the side of her face, it was impossible. It wasn't doable considering that she wasn't his any longer.
I'm an asshole, of course. What a fucking relief.
Fingers tapping subsequently on his leg, he smirked at himself when Aoife had called her early in the fucking morning, just to let his ears fall off.
"Where are you?"
Arthur winced, pulling away his phone for a second. He pinched his eyebrows together, rubbing the heel of his palm across his bleary eyes. "What do you want? It's not even five in the morning, jesus!" With that, he let out a large yawn.
"Where the hell are you?"Aoife repeated, this time in a far more murderous voice. "I know what happened."
He stilled.
"Cat got your tongue?" She scoffed. "Yeah, Archer told me last night."
Perhaps it was that Owen again. He didn't like the guy right from the start. And now he was unknowingly ruining some things. "Can we please just not talk about him again? If I'd have to beg you, I would. Just..."
"I don't care what you have to say, Arthur!" Aoife rebuffed, and he rolled his eyes before he turned towards the window, vacantly staring at a man rummaging through a garbage bin. "You remember what I told you before if you hurt Paige? Well now it's payback time, jerk."
"I'd be happy to see you," he said seriously, only to smirk up in amusement when he added, "only if you can catch me."
"Don't get smart with me. It's either you let me beat you up or I will tell her everything!"
He gritted his teeth. "Oh, so you're blackmailing now?"
"No," she replied with confidence. "I'm sure you wouldn't care, anyway. Right?"
Arthur huffed, brushing his hand down his face. "Why's everyone so concerned about her? She's not a fucking little girl any longer. You don't have to defend her."
"Because that's the only thing I can do for someone who've been so good to everyone, Arthur, including you. Can you imagine that? Did you really intend to hurt her all along?"
"My answer doesn't matter," he said, his fingers tightening around the handwheel. "I'm here at Cork Street. There's only one ice cream shop here, I'm living right next to it."
"Good," Aoife said self-satisfyingly. "I won't tell Archer about it."
"It's fine. I'd be moving before you could even say Arnold Schwarzenegger."
Arthur chuckled as the blood from the cut on his lips dripped down his chin. He didn't lift a finger, and let Aoife swung some mean hooks. He jerked his head aside in amusement.
"Impressive. You got some pretty nice jabs. How'd you learn those?"
"Where's the fun in it if I tell you?" Aoife's eyes squinted at him, her fists still in mid-air, ready for another punch.
Her knuckles were turning shiny and yellowish now, but that didn't seem to faze her. It was good enough that they were in some alley behind a pizza place so no one could see how helpless and pathetic he looked like. The girl was hot under the collar. And rightfully so.
She ended it with one single blow, hitting his jaw, and he stumbled back and onto the ground. He almost lost his consciousness. She was that good.
Arthur began to chuckle before it slowly escalated to a laughing fit, staring up at the clouds that early morning. Aoife stepped into his vision, blonde waves falling down the sides of her face, and the birds flew by above her head.
"You're insane, Arthur," he heard Aoife muttering under her breath, hands on her hips. "You're really nuts, you know that?"
He reached for her hand when she offered it to him. "Oh, I'm well-aware." Groaning, he supported himself with his other hand while Aoife pulled him up until he was at the balls of his feet. "Was that enough, or you want to rough me up 'til I'm dead?"
"Seeing you dead might be exciting, but not particularly to me," Aoife replied, letting out a long sigh. "I've to get back. The other maids might notice."
Arthur nodded, dragging another hand across his lips, the iron-like, rusty taste sitting in his tongue. He could feel his face swelling now but that was the least of his concern. He would have to turn up to Hackett; and then a fleeting imagination crossed his mind.
What would Paige do if she were to see him like this?
He couldn't believe it. When she caught him red-handed, at last, he was practically stunned to see just how much it affected her. He didn't think she would care that much.
But what did he expect? Of course, she'd break down. Paige was a natural softie at heart and that was to his advantage. And perhaps, somewhere deep within him, he knew Paige had already developed deeper feelings for him and he only hated her for it.
No, not really hate her. But more like the situation she had to cage herself in because of all the lies he'd stitched himself up. She was right in the trap.
Was she, really?
"You're still an asshole," Aoife said, snapping him out of his reverie. "But take care, will you?"
"Don't worry about me." He averted his eyes from that look on her face. Sniffing, he slid his hands down his pockets. "I'm going back to Rockstring once all's been settled."
"Okay," she breathed with a nod. "I will miss you."
His head turned to her then. For a few moments, he let the silence settle between them. Condescending, strong-willed, and hardworking−that was Aoife in a nutshell. She could stand next to him opposite Cain while they take a gang picture together.
Aoife had been far more a flesh and blood to him than Archer, if he were being honest. They hadn't spend time together for long but they'd build a pretty tight friendship, no doubt.
Smirking a little, he said, "Thanks, Aoife. For everything."
"Don't thank me," she shook her head, "you're like a brother to me, Arthur. You're one of the people who reminds me that family doesn't limit us by blood alone."
"Yeah."
"Arthur?" she called again, after what seemed like forever. Then he looked up at her in bewilderment. "I know how much you're holding out. Just hang in there. But please don't bury your head in the sand. Don't let yourself get into false hopes. Face it."
He clenched his jaw. "I'll try."
And as he turned back to present while their professor droned on, his fingers stopped drumming when he caught sight of a wet spot on Paige's journal. One after the other. Wet spots that resembled teardrops.
He held his breath and swallowed a lump in his throat.
Don't.
And as he heard her sniffing behind the curtains of her long brown hair, he could only dig his nails into his palm, trying to ignore her silent cries and the start of that convoluted sensation inside him.
To her new beginnings.