"You're all I need. According to your heart, my place is not deliberate. Feeling of your arms, I don't wanna be your friend. I wanna kiss your neck." - the 1975
Nicolas Bear Forrest
"I'M sorry for the waste of time. I'm sorry for our friendship. I'm sorry for trying to be your friend. I'm sorry for appreciating you as a human being. I'm sorry for seeing your bad side and not running off. I'm sorry I even tried to be someone in your life. I'm sorry for the two times we've kissed and the kiss from two seconds ago, when you kissed me," she said.
The tears on her cheeks prevented my thoughts from properly functioning. "I really am sorry. But you know what? You broke into my life too and impacted it in ways I never thought you would. Don't act like the fucking victim."
As she walked away, I had the uncontrollable impulse to run towards her and beg her to stay. But the hot trace that her hand left on my cheek made me think otherwise. Her lips; which had not kissed me back; I wanted them back on my own.
It felt right.
The wrenching fights we had, her arms around me, being the reason for her smile, the glint of agita in her eyes when I made her worry, taking care of her when she was sick, her undeniable attempts to be funny and the biting comebacks we fired at each other every single day-it felt more right than anything I had ever experienced in my life.
I kissed her because first of all, it was the right thing to do and second: because she looked like an angry mess of a goddess when she was mad at me.
But she was gone.
"Fuck," I mumbled. I kicked the fence and stared out into rainy New York City. This wasn't how I imagined any of it to be-my first visit here. It was supposed to be one of the best days; I would've walked around until my legs hurt and visited every piece of it. I would've had to sprint to the airport, because I was having so much fun I forgot to get to the airport early.
Here I was, hours later, in a plane back to Ottawa. I caught a glimpse of her sitting down seats away from me, bobbing her head to music. She still managed to look adorable even after rain. I could've walked towards her and asked the person beside her to change places, but I didn't.
"Hi there!" said the girl next to me, overly optimistic and joyful.
I pulled out my earphones and stared at her. "Hi." I put my music back in.
She frowned and glared at me, "I was going to start a conversation with you, wasn't I? Don't block me out."
"For fuck's sake," I whispered, obliging to her request, "What do you want?"
Her long brown hair was tucked into a low bun and her eyes were a shade darker than Zoey's, she was attractive, but she wasn't her. "I'm bored. Can you stop being rude for a second, please? I won't bother you."
But you are, I thought.
"I'm Lena," she stuck out her hand.
I shook it for her sake, "I'm Nico." Her hand was incredibly soft to touch.
"So, what brings you to Ottawa?" She said.
"My dad lives there," I replied. "You?"
She smiled, it looked good on her, "I'm opening a photography shop soon and I heard that Ottawa has a beautiful place called Rideau Canal, so I'm going there! Plus, I'm kind of in love with traveling!"
All I could say was: "Interesting." The last chords of Remembering Sunday by All Time Low were faintly blasting from the earphones on my lap. Annoyance sprung at the fact that I missed the last part, which was my favorite.
"Yeah, whatever. Now, tell me about the girl you can't stop looking at?"
I eyed her, "What are you talking about?"
"Her!" she pointed at Zoey. "Tell me your story."
"I don't-we don't have one."
Lena rolled her eyes, "That's crap, and we both know it. Tell me about her, Nico."
And strangely enough, I did. From the first day we met, to the current moment. Lena was a good listener; she reacted at the right times. It was nice to talk to a girl about my situation, since Joel and James were no help. I got wacked on the head three times: the first for spitting gum on her face when I had first met her, the second for fighting with her at the ceremony and the third for letting her go today. For a slender woman, she had strong hands.
"You big idiot!" she exclaimed, bewildered, "You don't let go of a girl when she's mad at you. You tell her how you feel!"
I rubbed the spot where she hit me, "how do I tell her how I feel when I don't fucking know how I feel?"
"Please," she rolled her eyes once more, "You know how you feel. You can tell her if you want to. You just need to man up."
"Lena, you don't know me."
She mimicked me, "Nico, I know you better than you think. I know how it feels."
"Tell me your story then," I said, noticing the darkness beginning to set in the sky.
She started to talk about a guy named Liam. They had this whole romantic, cliché love story. He had been selectively mute when they met, but they fell in love and he chose to speak for her. She got into an accident and got into a coma, but he waited for her. She almost died-but CPR and his singing brought her back to life. After taking a year off for the first courses of university, she had invited him for the opening of her shop, which was in a month.
"-and I'm scared I might pee my pants when I see him, 'cause I haven't seen him in like, 385 days! Even though, I'm twenty-one years old and I'm supposed to be an adult and all that bullshit, but the thought of seeing him makes me become a seventeen year old, gushing over the boy she likes! I mean, what if he doesn't have feelings for me anymore? And God-he's so freaking hot! And sweet and caring and cute and charming and adorable and sweet and did I say sweet? This guy is hot inside out! I swear to God, Nico, he's so hot inside and out that I melt when I see him. " Lena sighed.
She legitimately sighed. I wondered if she was twenty-one or a thirteen year old girl talking about her first time crush. I baby sat my fourteen year old cousin once; hearing her talk about her crush for two hours was no walk in the park for me.
I looked at her as if she was crazy, "You really are in love, aren't you?"
"I am," she said softly. The look in her eyes was breathtaking; it was almost as if she was visualizing him. "So are you."
"That's the thing, I don't know if I am. I know I have feelings for her, because she, like your Liam, is hot inside out. But love? It's a big word."
Lena smiled at me, "You'll know. You'll look at her and realize that there's no way you can survive a day without her, that even infinity isn't enough to spend with her, that the thought of leaving her breaks your heart-that you'd rather die than not see her smile again. You'll know, Nico. You'll feel it in your guts."
"ATTENTION PASSENGERS, WE ARE NOW LANDING-" shouted a voice through the intercom. I tuned out the rest, already gathering my earphones and shoving them in my small backpack. A few minutes later, we were on the ground. We both got up, after exchanging numbers.
I looked at Lena, hugged her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and said: "Good luck with Liam."
"Good luck with Zoey," she said. "You'll need it."
She was right: I needed all the luck I could get.
-
Pacing around like a maniac, I stared at my phone. I had been debating whether I should or shouldn't call Zoey and ask her to meet me here. It was too late to call her, but I wasn't sure if she'd be awake. Lighting up my second cigarette today, I stared at it in my hand. I hadn't smoked in two weeks; it was an occasional thing, but the frustration of her messed up my system.
I looked up and stared at her wall of paintings for a moment. The moonlight showed them in their full glory. They were majestic, captivating and thoughtful. She poured her heart out in her paintings, and it made them even more beautiful.
My phone buzzed and I muttered out a set of curse words when it wasn't her. "Yo."
"Bro, the fuck?" James' voice was heard. "Where you at?"
"Shit happened. We had a fight, I kissed her, and she slapped me and left. You expected me to come back with her, smiling?"
"Man, wait, give me a second. Joel, he's alive! I'm putting you on speaker; Blondie wants to talk to you." There was shuffling in the background.
"Nico! We thought she killed you and buried your body," said Joel. "And our first thought was: well fuck, he's dead!"
James finished: "And the second was: I wonder if he left us any money? Or what his last words were?"
I shook my head, puffing smoke out, "remind me why I'm friends with you two again?"
"Because we let you talk about our female friend and freak the shit out," said Joel.
"Okay, shut up, both of you, for a second, alright? Should I call her?"
"Yeah!" they both exclaimed at the same time.
And somehow, it was all I needed to hear to boost my courage.
"Nico, you should've called her so long ago," said James. "Don't be a pu-"
"Hey, at least I'm not like Joel. He'd been crushing on Diana for a year, before getting the balls to ask her out. Leave me alone."
"At least she's my girlfriend now," defended Joel, "And you have no idea how amazing it is. Red heads? The best, man."
"Did you just sigh?" I asked.
"No."
"Yes, he did," affirmed James. "But he be getting the pu-"
"James!" exclaimed Joel. "It's only been like two days! Chill out!"
"He means he'll be getting it like next week," I snickered.
"You're both assholes," grunted Joel.
"But so are you," I said. "It's why we're friends."
"A'ight, Nico, go call your babe."
"Okay," I said, about the hang up.
James added: "Nico?"
"Yeah?"
"Hurt her and I swear to God: I'll cut your fucking balls off." His tone was severe and solemn; I was totally aware that he wasn't kidding. Knowing James, he probably would.
"I'll punch you so hard you'll get amnesia, and then I'll punch you again and bring back your memory," said Joel. "Also, I take boxing lessons."
"No you don't?" said James. I could hear him groan a second later, insulting Joel.
I knew I shouldn't have been so scared, but I said: "You have full permission."
"We don't need your permission, Nico," said James, fully serious, "Zoey is like our little sister. We love her more than anything. Hurt her and we'll hurt you."
"I'll see you tomorrow," I answered. "Bye."
"Goodbye, Lover boy!"
And after manning the fuck up, I cleared my throat once she answered. "Hunter, I need to see you."
"Forrest?" she said, and I realized how much her voice made me feel better.
Before stopping myself, I replied: "No, it's Matty Healy. Wake the fuck up, Hunter."
"What do you want?"
"For Christ's sake, have you gotten fucking deaf? I said I needed to see you, didn't I?" The anxiety seeping into my bones had control of my words. When I was nervous; I was a hundred times more sarcastic and generally pissed off.
"Hello? Did you die?" I said, hearing nothing but bizarre kissing noises in the background. (Lucy or Diana was probably the reason for them.)
"Would you give me two seconds to think, Forrest?"
Two more seconds would make me insult her even though I didn't want to, so: "No."
"Where?"
"You know where."
"You-know-who?" added in Diana, "As in Voldemort? I am so confused. Did you know that Voldemort means steal death in French? Clever one, that J.K." Unladylike snorts were heard from Joel's elegant girlfriend.
"I'll see you in about an hour, Hunter. Don't bring that Harry Potter fan of yours with you," I hung up hastily. The cigarette in my hands was almost done, I crushed it beneath my feet, among the other one.
That wasn't so hard, now was it?
I had around one full hour before she arrived. Instead of continuing to pace around, I glanced at the hidden buckets of paint inside the abandoned mansion. Grabbing the black bucket and a paintbrush, I walked to her wall and dipped the brush into the black substance. I probably needed to wet the brush first, but I was too lazy to even do that. I wanted to leave a piece of me on this wall. Perhaps she'd see it once I was gone, perhaps she wouldn't. I had no way of finding out. But all I could do was write it.
We might as well be.
Putting emphasis on the point, I examined my sentence. It would seem unfinished to some, but to me, it was adequate enough. The power the word be held was implausible. In my mind, it was portrayed as a sense of existence. I might have also said: "we might as well exist together."
Should I take another one? My hands reached for the packet in my jacket. Just as I took out another one, rain came down pouring like showers. Cursing, I took my coat off and placed it over my head as a source of protection.
Staring at my sentence, I begged for it not to come off. Apparently, the paint was waterproof. None of it was effaced, even though the smallest part of me wanted it to disappear.
At that moment, I heard footsteps behind me. Instinctively, I hid behind the shadows of the manor. Branches cracked under Zoey's feet as she dragged her bike behind her.
Man up.
"Hunter?" I stepped out and walked towards her.
Her eyes, wide and wonderful, stared at me pensively: "Forrest."
"You've been smoking?" she bended down and picked up the crumpled up cigarettes.
I felt culpable, "Yeah."
"Why?"
"Do I have to have a reason for everything I do?"
"Yes," she affirmed. "Yes, you do. Why have you been smoking, Forrest?"
And as I couldn't just say because I've been nervous about seeing you, I said: "Because I fucking felt like it."
She threw the cigarettes at the wall. "We've already had this conversation!"
"No, we haven't, Hunter! Don't get so worked up about nothing!"
Zoey got closer, "It's not nothing! We talked about this! You said you'd stop!"
I remembered the conversation. It was right after our fifth mail delivery together. I was mad at her for a reason I couldn't name, and she started shouting at me for smoking. She spent an hour explaining the effects of smoking and how it ruined your lungs. Angrily, she made me promise to consider stopping smoking.
"Why are you so mad?" I asked, "They're my lungs, not yours. Besides, you're sorry for ever being my friend. Why would you care?"
The rain lessened to nothing. Clouds permitted the moon to shine at her. And I realized just how beautiful she was. A small, button-like nose was flaring at me in aggravation. A crease appeared between her eyebrows; one she only got when she was in deep thought. A light pink graced her cheeks. Her eyes, they were big and sweet. Their color reminded me of coffee and too much milk. (Her hair was a complete and total curly mess, but that was more than alright.)
She wasn't the ordinary kind of attractive. No one would ever look at her for the first time and think: damn, she's hot! But she was the stupendous kind; which took time to understand and decipher to understand. She was the kind of girl whose personality embellished every single piece of her.
"Because maybe I don't want you to get killed by useless tobacco before I murder you, alright? Just in case I get crazy and want to kill someone, I want you to be there! Now give me your pack, Forrest! I'm keeping it!" she rushed towards me and shoved her hands in my pockets. Snatching the pack, she threw it with all her force into the lake.
"Hunter!" I shouted. "What the fuck?!"
"Forrest, no what the fuck! I don't want you to die!"
"For fuck's sakes, why are you so fucking annoying? You don't have to control every part of my life!"
"Why do you always insult me? I hate it! I hate hearing you talk like that! I'm being annoying and controlling because I don't want you to fucking die at thirty! You deserve better than that, no matter how much of an asshole you actually are!"
And it dawned on me.
"You like me, don't you?" I stated.
Her expression softened, "what are you talking about?"
"You like me."
She pointed her finger in my face, saying: "Who do you think you are, huh?"
I stood a little straighter, feeling a smirk slide on my face.
She liked me.
She hit my chest with her fists; it was like a rabbit hopping on a bear. No effect whatsoever, but I held her hands, restraining her from doing anything else.
"You like me," I repeated.
I could see the pent-up frustration threatening to pour out of her like rain. "No, I hate you!" she said. I raised an eyebrow, comprehending how badly she was lying.
"Oh, really now? What do you hate about me, Hunter?"
She took a deep breath and said: "I hate how you can annoy me with one word, how you can get on my nerves in a second. I hate delivering mail with you, because you're a complete asshole. You never even help me, and leave me to do all the damn work. I hate the way you smirk and your fucking stupid British accent. I hate the way you throw your head back and laugh and the way you think you're better than me, because you're NOT!
And I-I hate the way you smile, and your stupid dimples. I hate your laugh, because it's unnerving. I hate your eyes, because they always sparkle, I mean, what, you put some sort of sparkling thingy on them?"
I chuckled at the last sentence. This only seemed to get her even more upset. Her hands turned into fists and pulled away from mine.
"See? You're doing it again! I'm done with you, Nico, I'm done."
She turned away and headed towards her bike. Trying to pull it out of the mud, she muttered a colorful trail of curses. I could hear her from where I was, as she suffered with the bike. She kicked it and began to walk away.
Lena's earlier words struck in my head: "You'll know. You'll look at her and realize that there's no way you can survive a day without her, that even infinity isn't enough to spend with her, that the thought of leaving her breaks your heart-that you'd rather die than not see her smile again. You'll know, Nico. You'll feel it in your guts."
I ran after her and put my hand on her shoulder. I couldn't risk letting her go again. This felt like my only chance to find out if I really did love her. If she liked me back and said it, perhaps I'd know.
"Wait," I asked, even though I already knew why. She was angry and she didn't want me to see it. "Why are you leaving?"
Her eyes shimmered with tears, "Because I'm done with this, whatever this is."
Bloody hell, I hated to see her cry.
Hurt flashed through my system, I fought to shake it off. I didn't need to look more like a wimp than I already did."Why?"
"Because I'm tired of this bullshit. I hate you, Forrest." Venom dripped in her words, and I flinched at the way she said it. It was like a knife through heart. And the slow realization was settling in my head.
No, she doesn't.
She can't.
"You're lying. I can see it your eyes," I said, "You like me, Hunter. I know it."
Never breaking eye contact, she didn't hesitate once before saying: "You're wrong. I don't like you, I never have and I never will." And as she walked away from me, I knew.
I knew. There was no fucking way I could survive a day without hearing her voice. I wanted to deliver mail with her every single day, just to make my day better. The thought of leaving her-even if it pondered in the back of my mind-broke my heart. I realized that I would rather die than never be the reason for her smile again.
I knew.
I was in love with her.
Beth was no Zoey; I'd never felt for her as much as I felt for Zoey. And she was leaving.
Sprinting towards her, I grabbed her hand and pulled her as close to me as possible. I wrapped my arms around her, just like she had done a thousand other times to me. She was reluctant, but she answered. Her body shook tenderly, she cried into my shirt. But she pushed me off in a second.
"No! I refuse this!" she shouted, "No, Forrest! You can't keep doing this! You can't keep fucking stepping over me and then kissing me or hugging me or doing whatever it is you do to make me feel better! Because it works for a second, but I don't want this to keep happening. I don't want you to keep swooping in like Prince Charming and cleaning up your messes!"
"Hunter, I'm sorry! I'm sorry for being such an asshole to you even though sometimes, well ninety-nine percent of the time you're being a fucking bitch, and I'm sorry for stepping on your heart! I never meant to do that! It's just so fucking confusing."
She stared at me, biting on her bottom lip. I took it as a sign to continue. Shouting helped. "Ever since she died, I felt like every thing was going wrong in my life! I had no mum, my girlfriend didn't love me enough to stay faithful and what happens? I move here, even if I don't want to! And then I meet you."
"And you're a pain in the ass, but you brought something new to every day. I was sometimes actually happy to wake up; I looked forward to delivering mail with you. And even though we fought, it made me the slightest bit happy. My dad said he was happy to see me smile for the first time in months. You introduced me to new people and because of you, I'm friends with James and Joel and I can't ever thank you enough for that!"
"But most of all-you taught me how to be happy again! And bloody hell, it scares the shit out of me! I was numb for five months, but you brought me back to life. And it scared me so much; the thought of caring so much again. I lost two women in my life in the same month-caring for someone was the last thing I expected to happen. God, Hunter, I-"
The next seconds were a blur. For the first time, she was the one to grab my face gently and kiss me. I put my hands on her waist and pull her closer; kissing her back softly. She broke away, a look of confusion on her face.
"I don't like you," she said smoothly.
I frowned, "So I made a big ass speech for nothing?"
"I think I might be in love with you and the thought of it terrifies me too and that's alright because even though you're an asshole ninety-nine point one percent of the time and I'm not the greatest, we're here for a reason, aren't we?"
"You know, Zorro," I broke into the biggest smile, "Who thought you'd fall for me?"
"Like, everyone but us?"
"True. We're crazy."
"Also very true. You need a mint, by the way, because your mouth smells like tobacco and I hate it."
"Shut up, Hunter," but there was no trace of annoyance in it.
She threw her head back and laughed in my arms, and I realized there would never be a better sound to my ears.
-
smiLING LIKE A CREEP
idk if this is good i might edit the frick outta this in the morning cause it's probably crap but I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME
goodnight, it's almost 4 am.
love, yas