virat's side! hope you like it! thanks for sticking by me so far!
0 4
WHEN VIRAT WAS SEVEN YEARS, three months and three days old, he saw how colorful Misha who could make her life with the sun and a simple plastic ruler. She was the new girl in the neighbourhood, and he remembered how he had dropped the kit-kat she was eating yesterday. Smiling to himself, he twirled the pencil through which he was writing - making patters on the paper with the rainbow bequeathing. He rambles off the word, -
S O R R Y :(
- on the paper, and tears away the page from his notebook. Again glancing back in her direction, he saw how she wasn't playing her ruler anymore; in fact she twirled her pencil between her fingers, her sad eyes fixed on the open notebook in front of her. And the next moment, he saw how her eyes - lovely brown, like freshly ploughed earth, like chocolate, like bitter coffee - lit up and twinkled. The same moment, her pencil finally met the paper; the words flowing beautifully and Virat realized that Misha looked so beautiful while she was writing, something which she probably enjoyed.
He silently sauntered towards her bench, and gave her the note. Misha unfolded the paper neatly, and saw that he was apologizing for yesterday. "You could've just told me," she told him smilingly, "It's okay. I hardly minded. I knew it wasn't intentional."
"Friends then?" Virat grinned.
Misha shrugged cheekily, "Friends and all is cool, but you still owe me a kitkat."
At that, both of them burst into fits of giggles.
0 3
WHEN VIRAT WAS THIRTEEN YEARS, one month and twenty four days old, he realized what love was. It was the sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach when the person is so close, and still so far. It was the slow-burn in your heart when you hear their agonizing sobs. It was all the ruckus in your brain, and the fear in your gut when you're standing outside the door, and shouting, "open the goddamn door," and no one answers.
Virat barged the door once again, but all his attempts going futile. "Misha, don't you freaking dare do anything reckless, okay? Just open the door."
Misha didn't answer. She knew talking to him would make her resolve weak. So Virat had no option; he broke the door open, and the next scene he saw makes his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. A cut on her wrist, blood mattered on her hand, on her dress, on the foor, everywhere. He had never seen so much blood in his life. "Fuck, Misha -"
Guilt washed over Misha when she realized what she had done. She had cut herself. She had slashed her own wrist. She had tried to commit suicide.
Bursting in tears, Virat picked up Misha in her arms, and laid her on the bed. Blood was still oozing out of the cut. Biting back his tears, he pressed the hand-towel lying on the bed to her wrist. The white of the material shadows under the crimson of her blood as he wondered; was she always thinking of suicide in her sub-conscious mind?
"I'm fine, Virat. It needs a couple of stitches but it's going to be okay. Stop crying." Misha told him, her eyes feeling heavy.
"You've the audacity to tell me this, Misha Jaiswal?" I snapped at her. "I could've lost you today, you idiot."
Misha's eyes were brimming in tears, "But you didn't. You're always saving me," she told him, before falling unconscious.
Virat's unwavering grip on her hand proved how he was always going to love this girl, and protect her. No matter what.
0 2
VIRAT WAS EIGHTEEN YEARS, one month and twenty four days old when he realized love was actually endurance. Patience. Perseverance. Misha's love had taught him. It had been over a year since their break up, and he had always died to know, what actually went wrong in their relationship?
When he read the letter she had given to him during the new year, he felt his heart was in eternal agony. She was hurt to the point that she had started to call her worthless, and he had no idea how to make her understand she was everything he loved.
It didn't even take him a moment to rush towards her house. He greeted Misha's mother with a smile, and she didn't even bother stopping him because she knew he was all her daughter needed that moment. His hands were shaking while he was standing at the door, but he knocked anyway. Misha was on the bed, silently weeping when Virat entered her room. Seeing her cry made his heart bleed; he had no idea where to begin from.
The silence in the room - to say the least - was agonizing. It was as if Virat and Misha were stone figures, the aftermath of Medusa's glare. Virat leaned closer to Misha, inhaling her death scent, and tasting her tears. He engulfed her in his arms, rocking her back and forth. "Why didn't you tell me, Mish?"
"How was I supposed to tell you, Virat?" she sobbed against his chest, and he saw how her goddamn beautiful eyes were blurred in tears. "On the phone? Oh hey, Virat. I went to this party because I was bored. And Rishabh, do you remember him? Yeah that guy I slapped in ninth grade; he just raped me."
"Shut up," he muttered, closing his eyes. He couldn't stop playing the stills in front of his eyes. The pain she had to go through; all for nothing. Just because an asshole couldn't stand rejection.
"I'm sorry for ruining us," she told him, eyes downcast as she wiped away her tears using her over-sized t-shirt's sleeve.
"We aren't ruined, okay? I still love you for God's sake. A Rishabh cannot change my feelings for you, Mish. Nothing matters more than you." Virat replied, slightly in anger and exasperation.
"B-but Virat, you deserve so much more. How can still love me in spite of all this?" she asked him, clawing at her chest. It was so hard for her not to break down again.
"Because... Mish, I don't love you in spite of everything you are," he replied, shaking his head. "In fact, I love you for everything you are."
Those words melted her heart. She knew the man in front of her was painfully in love with her. But it was love, and love was the genesis of their future.
0 1
VIRAT WASN'T SURE, if he was still in love with Misha because Misha wasn't there, and he couldn't say he was in love with the figments of hers that flipped through his head or he was in love with a woman who had left him.
There was not a single moment, when Virat had not missed Misha. Loving her was probably inexplicable. He missed every habit of hers - her laughs, how it would move every fibre of his being. How her hands would perfectly fit into his, as though they've been touched before; clasped and held in his before his own. He knew those hands never deserved to go through all the anger and pain, they've gone through.
She told him to go everytime, and when they were finally nineteen - he decided to not let her reel back. They had travelled for so long together, that she decided she would trudge on her own path. But now, knowing that she had already travelled for so long alone, he wanted their paths to bring them together once again.
He knew nothing in life has been certain. A temperate day didn't mean there will not be rain, a new method of resection or therapy won't bring back the people we have loved and lost. An unexpected appearance, a bright smile and a soft brush of fingers would not prevent the nightmares from coming back. Because nothing in life was certain; except for their love. But again, he wondered if the once flickering fire of VeeandMish which used to burn with vibrant, passionate flame; and now is reduced to stubs of a lifeline would resurrect ever.
He hasn't stopped turning around, hearing her laughs but it was his mistake. They were her old words, old grins and old peals of laughter which are still ricocheting off the walls of his heart. His efforts weren't always enough for their love; it was supposed to be a give and take for both, and he now understood that love was never enough. Her life had made her so brittle that in no way, he could hold onto her without breaking. He realized holding back her would make her devoid and empty from inside so he let her go, with no expectations of her return. Because he knew she was lovable enough, and would find love in any part of the world; didn't matter if he was there or not.
Much contrary to his expectations, she does arrive after all, and maybe this time to stay.
0 0
I MIX WITH THE CROWD, two thoughts whizzing in my mind - I want to see her; I don't want to see her. But the reality was I'm not going to see her. She had lost so much in this city, in this school that I didn't have any hopes of her returning on the eve of our highschool reunion.
Fuck, this wasn't even a reunion to her. It was just going to be a remainder of all the scars and the agonizing pain she had to go through in here. I still love her, and it is in present tense and I know I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot because I'm still stupidly in love with her, but it's also one of the smartest thing I've ever done in my life. Our story didn't start when we were six or ten or sixteen or eighteen. We didn't begin at the first greeting or the final goodbye, at the first kiss or the first heartbreak. The painful and happy moments in our life didn't define the start of what we are now - we did.
The song playing right now was Photograph by Ed Sheeran. Some songs never grow old because of the memories they remind you of. Honestly, it's not the lyrics of the song I want to hold back, it's the memories attached to this song.
Memories are ruthless, really. Because sometimes they clench your heart badly by just trying to go back to the old days.
"Missing someone, are we?" Mohit questions, making me jump; I had not noticed he'd come up to me.
"No, everyone's here. Who would I be missing?" I question, desparately trying to clear off my thoughts of the girl who wasn't going to come here in first place
"Virat, are you really sure everyone's here?" Naina asks this time, slightly smirking. Alert mind, hers was.
I try not to roll my eyes. "Yeah, everyone's here," I tell her.
"It seems you've miscounted." Mohit tells me.
"Yeah Virat, haven't you really noticed that your ex-girlfriend is missing?" Naina asks, an automatic victory grin appearing on her lips as though it was her gain that Misha and I had broken up.
"Misha? And what makes you think that Misha's going to come?"
"Well, you're looking for her as if you're sure that she's gonna come." Naina says, rolling her eyes at me. "Always knew highschool love story doesn't last forever. All drama."
Just then Kabir comes running to us. "Virat, are you looking for Misha?" he asks, his eyes focussing on me.
"No. I know she's not going to come."
"It's not that she has not come, Virat. You're looking for her at the wrong place."
"What do you mean, Kabir? Stop talking in circles."
"She's outside; on the garden swing."
"You're kidding right? It's raining cats and dogs outside."
"If you don't believe me, you can go and check by yourself."
I strut my way through the crowd and walk outside the auditorium, taking the corridor which was nearest to the garden. It has been more than six years, and I'm slightly surprised that I still remember all the ways.
When I'm finally facing the garden, I see the silhoutte of a girl sitting on the swing. The rain bequeathing the clouds, and falling relentlessly on the soft soil of the garden, momentarily making my vision hazy; the fact that I was wearing lenses didn't help either. There is hardly any light coming to that side of the garden, but I already knew that the girl was Misha. Her presence was truly magnetic for me, because she had that aura around her. I claw at my chest, out of breath and tired. It's so funny because I was waiting for this moment since so long, and when she's finally here, I'm so scared to face her.
Misha doesn't even bother to turn which threatens my heart to burst; I hope she hadn't forgotten us.
"Why are you standing outside?" I ask in a yell. Misha turns around, and looks at me with a sad smile. I don't know if she was crying or not, but I was crying in torrents, and I was glad that the rain hid my tears - letting my tears flow with them.
Misha pushes her lower lip outside, slightly frowning. "Because I don't belong there, Virat." she replies, not bothering to pull me into an embrace. I awkwardly stand there, realizing that maybe best things - like us - are best if they're unknown. I feel like she's unknown to me now, but I want to know her all over again. "Why are you standing here?" she asks, breaking the defeaning silence between us.
"Because I don't belong either where you don't belong," I reply, and push her swing forward resulting in its to-and-fro motion. "Remember fourth grade? I used to push the swing like this for you, because you were so heavy that you could hardly push yourself." I chuckle, shaking my head.
I'm sure Misha must be rolling her eyes at me when she shoots back, "I was not fat, okay? I was just a little chubby, but that shouldn't be a problem to you, motu."
"Seriously though, why aren't you inside?" I ask, this time in a serious tone. "There's a party going on there; food, music, dance... everything you like."
"Because I didn't come for any of that. I came here for you, Virat. Just you."
"Then why didn't you come to meet me, Mish?" I ask, sauntering towards her as I take a seat next to her. Slowly, I wrap my arms around her, engulfing her in my embrace. "I missed you. So much."
"Sorry. Uh, I thought you would've forgotten me by now."
"You think I would've forgotten you?"
"Everything you are," she drifts away the topic. "It's... it used to be our song."
"It still is our song," I correct her, extending my hand to hers. Misha looks at me as though asking was I really being serious. "Yeah, I know we can't go back to the auditorium in this condition but we can dance in the corridor. So, may I've this dance with you?"
"Will you be able to handle me? My ex-boyfriend used to say that I stepped on him quite a lot times while dancing, and you know my heels are killing."
"I know our dance was not perfect; it was choppy and irregular but it doesn't matter, really. Nothing matters when it's you and me." Misha's gaze befits mine intensely while she interlocks her fingers with mine, and we hastily walk towards the corridor. We begin to dance; her eyes looking glassy but nevertheless her lips curved into a smile.
She's still so beautiful.
"So how many girlfriends after me?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
"Three," I sheepily grin at her, while she smacks my arm unexpectedly. "It's just three, okay? That too, I waas dating them only because I could find a little of something in you. The last one had a nose like you..."
"Geez, Virat." she scrunches her nose, disgusted. "Don't tell me you dated her just because our noses resembled?"
"Kind of," I mumble lowly in a whisper. "Anyway, how many boyfriends you had?" Had was an assumption, a selfish assumption. I hope she hadn't moved on.
"None," she grinned, hooking her hands around my neck. Her breath tickles my face making my heart flutter, and I feel like I've never felt so awake and alive.
"Hook-ups then?"
"No!" she exclaims in a yell. "I was in a med-school for God's sake. I was studying, Virat. Don't tell me you had secret hook-ups along with your three girlfriends?" I laugh, realizing Misha had always been a jealous and possessive soul. Not that I didn't like it.
"No," I reply honestly. "I never let come anyone that close to me. Did you, uh, expect me to?"
"No," she denies, her eyes downcast. "I just never expected anything, Virat. I came here with a blank mind, to be honest. I just know that six years ago, I'd not expected this." she juts her chin at my hands around her waist. "I had expected us to move on with two other people rather than just us back again... hanging in middle of nothing. This sounds too cliche."
"No, Mish." I shake my head in disagreement. "Cliche would've been me chasing behind you, instead of letting you go. Cliche would've been me fixing you, instead of you, yourself. Cliche would've been us inside, introducing each other as spouses inside instead of dancing with each other, in solitude and trying to mend our relationship."
"You're right." Misha smiles. "By the way, I completed my post-graduation, and I'm now practicing in Life Beat as an oncho."
"I've never been so proud of someone before." I tell her honestly. The song gets over, and so we stop dancing too. "Wanna take a glance at how everything has changed?" I ask, extending my hand towards the empty corridor.
"Sure," she smiles, looping her arm around mine. We strut through the corridor, passing though each and every childhood memory of ours. In that very second, I realize there was not even a single happy moment in my life was not spent in her absence. They had her all.
We were in the library when Misha turns around to face me, and softly sighs, "A lot of things have changed, right?"
I wrap my arms around her shoulder side-wise, giving a small peck on her forehead. "Maybe things have changed but we haven't."
"What do you mean?"
"Soul-mates? Do you believe in them?" I ask her, and she shakes her head, replying negatively. "Neither did I. Mom used to tell that soulmates have a puzzle piece which looks alike, just like twins. When we were young, I always used to fancy the idea that you were truly my soulmate. But I was wrong, Mish."
I can see the disappointment in her eyes.
"After our break-up, I thought you were never my soulmate, and maybe there was someone else waiting for me. I lived with the idea, but it couldn't co-exist with you. How the girl I was irrevocably in love with not my soulmate? And then, I got my answer when you wrote about... uh, Rishabh in that letter. For a reason, I knew whatever mom told was wrong. Soulmates don't have twin puzzle pieces."
Misha looks at me curiously. "If not twin, then what is it?"
"Puzzle pieces which matches yours are the ones which complete you. Fit perfectly. We complete each other, and that's why I wanted us to get back together. Nothing outstands the fact that we've loved each other even before we knew what love was."
"But then, I wanted to be your twin puzzle instead of the small part which completes your larger one," she remarks, eyes downcast. "Virat, was I stupid doing that to us? Taking a break from the best thing that had ever happened to me?"
"No, you weren't stupid. I guess, you were right. If you couldn't stand for yourself, live yourself, fix yourself; maybe we would've ended up terribly. Maybe things would've not turned out in the way they're going to, right now."
Misha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean, Virat?"
"I've loved you when I was seven and you were making rainbows on my desk. I was in love with you when we were thirteen and you were giving up on life. I loved you when I was sixteen and we were together. I loved you even when you left me... twice. That's all in the past tense."
"And I still love you. Present tense. I will always love you. Future tense."
Misha shakes her head, as if to shake away our relationship, looking appalled by the confession, and disappears in the dark.
To me, it was fine, it was black and white before, it still was going to be. Misha had left once again... like she had always done. Nothing new. I silently walk towards the window, wondering nothing mattered, really. Six years, I was breathing out a sorrowful sob of "I love you," to the night sky, the reply being only from the stars which winked at me, set my life aglow with their twinkle, and kissed my brow, as though wishing me back with an "I love you too." She returned only to go back; my heart at the very thought felt heavy, heavy and lonely like the moon.
I jump in astonishment when I see the lights are put on, and see Misha walking towards me again. She had a journal in her hand - the same journal through which she used to write down the letters. "I'm sorry for the crash-landing," she giggles, sitting on the bench near the librarian's desk. I shake my head at how similar she was to the haphazard desultory stars of the sky, I'd always admired in the night during her absence.
"I thought y-you... left me a-again," comes out of my mouth like a broken rasphody of jumbled words. Misha doesn't answer, simply begins writing again. I smile at her, still agreeing with my old-self that she looked the most beautiful when she was writing. After she completes writing the note, she gets off the place and drags her feet across the floor to stand beside me.
"Here is my answer," she says, making a sour face as she holds the thin paper between the gap of her two fingers and offers me. Rolling my eyes at her action, I take the note from her hands and read -
I LOVE YOU TOO, IDIOT.
- on the paper. I want to keep this safe in my heart, I want to pull Misha in my embrace, and kiss her but I just look at her, and chuckle in amusement. "Why would you write this down? Writing notes and confessing is so... last year." I tell her, pulling on a mocking face.
"Oh, I didn't know," she replies, taking the note from my hands and chucks it away. "I honestly don't know. I-I hadn't expected any of this to happen, you know? I thought you would've moved on... with some other girl. You always deserved so much more -"
I cut her mid-sentence, rolling my eyes at her. "You are an idiot, you know? All our life we've been fighting on this, and you're still stuck on it? You're so vain -"
"- you are an idiot, you know? You won't listen to me! Ugh," she snapped back at me exasperatedly. "So I was saying, you deserve so much more but I think you're a blessing to me, Virat. Knowing you was a blessing. Loving you is a blessing. Being your soulmate is a blessing. And how much ever I run away from it, I can never deny a blessing. I can never deny your love. I am an idiot, and I don't care if our pieces match or not, if they're twins or not. Because you're all I need. In front of you, the world doesn't matter," she tells me, and I release the breath I didn't know was caught in my throat. "I can never be in so much love with a guy as I was with you. Maybe that's why we're still together," she stops and looks at me, eyebrows raised. "Hold on... Virat, are we together?"
"Yeah, of course. We are somewhat stuch together forever," I ramble off, nervously laughing. "Ugh. I love you so much, Mish. Don't even ask me why. I probably have to write an entire book to explain that." I tell her, kissing her nose.
Misha giggles, before kissing my lips. "Me too," she breathes against them, her unspoken words lingering on my lips, always, always, always.
///
4000 + words. my fingers hurt, now. YOU BETTER COMMENT!