Tension, truth: When it’s too late

So… It’s been a year… Basically… Oops. I’ve recently felt the intense urge to write again, after so long. I’ve been doing a lot of fantasy reading, and I felt like writing. Mostly because I have a lot of stuff going on in life. I’d rather not talk about that. But there’s a lot.

This piece hurts a little. I don’t know where it came from, and it doesn’t reflect anything in my life. I don’t know why I’ve been feeling all emotional and lovey lately. I have no romance in my life and don’t really want any at the moment… Ha.

---

When her eyes land upon you, they immediately dart away. There is too much unsaid in that one quick glance, yet there is too much to be said if they were to linger any longer.

The clock ticks.

The next time you pass by, unsmiling, dragging a buggy piled high with crates and boxes, her shoulders scrunch up towards her ears. She lets her hair slide slowly to cover the left side of her face. A timid smile threatens to spread at the edge of her mouth. Still, she pointedly avoids looking in that direction.

“Hello!” she exclaims at the customer entering her station, the poor lad heaving a giant basket of goods onto the belt.

Upon your passing, a great sigh of relief makes its way out her system. She scans items much more smoothly now, as if this is what her life was destined to be. For a while, all is well. Until she realizes that her break is upon her, and your break was called not two minutes ago. Having to spend a half hour in the same room as you threatens to make her explode with fiery nerves, with an over-palpitating heart, with too much tension–at least in her mind.

Break is called anyways.

Everything continues at it should. She strolls towards the lunchroom, smiling with her sparkling eyes, ponytail swaying wildly, hands tucked in her pockets, swinging her hips, as if she was a model. No one need know about her sweaty palms.

The lunchroom is empty. Another sigh of relief overwhelms her, along with an unexpected wave of disappointment. At least she had the room to herself.

Break ends. Work begins. Shift ends.

Every day this happens. Every day she yearns for more, more of something, of anything. Her eyes linger a little longer every day, her smile widens a little more every time you make time out of your life to even pass your eyes over her. To no avail. She is fully aware of this, yet is fully absorbed in you nonetheless.

Months pass.

She leaves.

You open your mouth to say something to her for the first time…

You look at the station she once worked, taken aback. Her familiar smile no longer there, her casual stride no longer gracing the halls, her bright “hello!” no longer ringing through the store.

Reality strikes.

 

Fear, Forgotten: From brother to sister

Remember Colton, from a number of my stories? Yeah, for some reason, I really like using him. Probably because he’s been staying the same old nostalgic, sad guy who thinks and thinks yet never really acts on any of his thinking. He just keeps thinking about the past and about his dad, who’s been dead for several years now, and how he’ll never get over that. I’m sure he will… Eventually. It’s taking a while, mostly because 1. he has no friends and doesn’t try to get any, 2. people are scared of him, 3. he doesn’t know how to socialize properly and saw the right things based on body language/emotion, 4. he doesn’t know how to show body language/emotion himself, 5. he pushes his sister away even though he loves her, 6. he has like no hobbies, 7. he’s scared of the notion of forgetting, even if he doesn’t know it himself, 8. the list goes on.

I wrote a little poem from him to his sister Celia. When he asks Celia why she is so beautiful, it is not because he loves her romantically. He’s simply amazed as to how she can live life so purely. I would be, too. Maybe.

---

They come rushing back in a wave of pain,

Taught a long time ago to not show it.

Father commanded to never complain:

Even now his words affect me a bit;

But my responsibility comes first,

A job that will never be typical;

Sometimes, I think this family is cursed,

Yet, Sister, how are you so beautiful?

It is tough, when compassion seems to fail,

Especially when I try with my heart;

When people see me, they suddenly pale:

A splitting image with no brand new start;

As days pass, so do same daily routine,

So do I, you, no changes in between.

Coffee, Skiing: Planning down the hill

Okay, so I’m really bad with romance. (Clearly) Not just romance really, but with love. It’s just so awkward for me… I tried. So hard. (Not really)

---

The tinkling of the bell jolted Ryan from the fascinating wonders of his coffee mug—utterly white, with no words or colors on it. Looking up, he spotted Bianca weaving her way through the numerous stools littered all around the shop, her face growing more and more exasperated as she scanned her untidy, unappealing surroundings. She was beautiful, her spring gown fluttering as she strode over, elegant as ever.

“Bianca!” Ryan hopped out of his seat, scrambling to greet her, banging his knee while at it. “Ah—dang—sorry—How are you? I’ve missed you so much.”

Bianca smiled, a shy yet tender beauty. However, as daft as Ryan was, even he could recognize something a little bit off about her smile; he loved it so much he noticed it was tinged with something else, something like… No, he wouldn’t overthink. Today was a historical day, for him at least.

“You’re looking chic today, Ryan,” Bianca admired, smiling. “How’s the coffee?”

A gasp escaped Ryan. He spun around rapidly, stammering, “I forgot to order you something! I—I daydreamed, telling myself I was going to order for you right before you arrived, but then—”

Bianca gently put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, dear. I don’t need anything today. I’m quite alright.”

It didn’t yet occur to Ryan that Bianca adored coffee faithfully, and a while ago, he declared that the day she denied an offer of coffee definitely meant the world was coming to an end.

“I—alright. Come take a seat,” Ryan advised, “and we’ll discuss our skiing plans.”

He took her purse and set it down beside her, then sat down across from her. Ryan was exploding with joy; hopefully he didn’t look too eager. It would only make him look more like a ditz.

“So. What first?” he asked gleefully.

Bianca fiddled with her thumbs on the table. Even her thumbs were perfectly shaped. “Well, I’ve been thinking… Maybe we should—”

“Oh!” Ryan gushed. “Great idea! We should definitely decide which hotel to stay in, first. I almost started planning without even knowing that! Ha!”

He grinned at Bianca, but the grin wilted upon seeing her forehead scrunched, mouth pinched and eyes unfocused. This was slightly odd.

“Bianca?” Ryan prodded softly.

“What—Ah! I’m so sorry; I was just thinking about, you know, I suppose maybe we should rethink… Ah…” She trailed off.

Ryan nodded, taking in every bit of her advice. She was good at that.

“Right. Rethink the mountains. I suppose Whistler isn’t the best option, then? Well, there are other choices like Sun Peaks, Big White… Uh, Red Mountain, those other ones… Which one would you like?”

Bianca cast her eyes down towards the table. “Um, I don’t really know… I mean, it’s your specialty, right?” She chuckled, albeit a bit painfully. “And—”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly, dear,” Ryan blabbered, interrupting her. “I’m just incredibly excited, you know, since it’s our first ski trip together, something that I’ve been looking forward to for almost three years, especially with you and your beauty, and we’ve had this on our bucket list for so long…” He was blushing nearly as dark as a cherry, he could sense it.

“I know, and I respect that, Ryan. I’ve just got something to say, first, and—”

“I love that about you, you know!” Ryan plowed on, disrupting her once again. “You’re so gentle and so amazing and I’m so lucky and thrilled to have you, and to be planning this ski trip together right here, right now! It’s like a dream come true, and I’ll be marking this day down in my diary, which—oh goodness—I don’t think you knew I had one, but now you do, so—”

“Ryan!” Bianca snapped. Ryan almost dropped the coffee in his hands, hearing that. She softened, her eyes bursting with some strong emotion—sympathy?

“Could you please listen to what I have to say?”

Ryan nodded obediently.

“Thank you, dear,” Bianca murmured. “I’ve been thinking. I know this trip has been your dream for so long, and believe me, it was mine, as well. I—Just—I—I don’t think we should continue. It’s just… I… Don’t feel the same. And I feel like this trip would’ve made it worse, both for you and for me. I don’t want to lie to you—I really did, really, love you, Ryan. I…” She looked down at her hands, now fisted tightly.

Ryan noticed her lower lip trembling, and yearned to help. He wanted to lift her head and wipe away the tears trickling from her beautiful eyes. He longed to comfort her, to do anything so that she would unclench her hands. He had barely processed her words, yet his heart seemed to grasp them before his brain, not following through with any of these cravings so as to respect her feelings.

“Say something, Ryan,” Bianca whispered, voice hoarse.

He didn’t.

He walked away.

Noah, Jasper: You’re my right arm

So this was based off of a slogan:

It’s what your right arm’s for.

–Courage Tavern Ale

I didn’t even know what Courage Tavern Ale was before this, but now I do. I feel like this composition was kind of abrupt and jerky and fast, but it was supposed to be only 1.5 pages and I made it like 2 already, so…. Oh well.

---

When the room illuminates with an ominous red glow, I shriek.

With delight.

“YEAH!” I leap off the couch, though I was barely perched on the edge of it, a pillow and lob it straight into Jasper’s face. “I WIN! I ‘powned’ you! Did you see that AWESOME move that my dude did at the end? It was like,” I wave my arms around wildly, “so boss!”

Jasper merely stares.

“Hello, Jas? I said—”

“Yeah, Noah, I heard what you said.” Jasper exhales, smoothly placing his controller on the coffee table, careful as to not tangle the cables. “It was a good game, and yes, before you say it again, that was indeed an AWESOME final move,” he acknowledges, not at all sarcastically.

I pout. My brother is always like this. Jasper is always so—so—nice! Never once in my twelve years of life have I ever seen Jas display any form of competitiveness, nor any sign of aggression. Gosh, how does Jas even live?

“Well, since you’re done gloating over your AWESOME victory,” Jasper says, with no sarcasm whatsoever, “I’m going to go grab some coffee. Gaming with my twelve-year old brat is real tough on poor old men like me. Want to join me? No? Good, you shouldn’t be drinking coffee.”

Before I even get the chance to answer, he’s out the door.

It takes me a while to process what my brother offered. Did Jas just call me a brat? Ha!

I grab my baseball cap and my trusty Pokémon cards, and lace up my sneakers. A minute later, I dash after him. Man, he walks fast; he may be seventeen, but his legs are lo-ong. He’s already down the block. Actually, maybe he ran.

As Jas slows almost to a stop by the crosswalk, another person blocks his path… A guy around his age, one of his friends from school, I suppose.

I slow down immediately. My brother gets frustrated sometimes when I interrupt conversations with his mates, and I don’t like when Jas is annoyed by me. Thankfully, I don’t think the dude saw me. His gaze is sharp, cutting, focused on Jas and on Jas only. There’s something else there, though, a glimmer in eyes like all those evil fellas I defeat on MAG…

“Do you know how much time I spent?” the boy hisses unkindly, his voice echoing down the street. I pick up on everything he says. “Every. Single. Day. I rehearsed for hours on end, perfecting the voice and feelings of Jack. I was the ideal Jack! Everyone loved me. The past four years I’ve been the lead character, but oh, one day you stroll in and ruin my life and make everyone fall in love with you. You, of all people. Don’t you already have enough going for you?”

I barely have time to see Jasper’s face register, a kind of weariness enfolding in. Furious, I plant my foot, sprinting down the street. “Excuse me, kind sir,” I spit, “What did you just say?”

No one talks to my brother like that. I may be troublesome and a pest who bothers Jas all day long, but he’s my brother. Someday I’ll be the Jasper Larkin of my generation: cool, gentlemanly, full of swag, majorly smart, and nice.

Jas looks surprised, and a little alarmed, at my arrival. Good.

“Who in the world are you?” the guy demands rudely. What? Jas and I don’t look that similar, but I didn’t think we looked nothing alike.

“Who do you think you are, talking to MY brother like that?” I probably sound frantic, my voice up three octaves, but I don’t care. “Did you say it was Jas’ fault that you suck at acting or whatever it is you’re mad about? I’m not as old as you, but even I know that you being bad at something is not someone else’s problem. It’s yours. It’s not Jas’ fault that people liked him more than you. Honestly though, I can see why they picked him over you. He’s so much cooler. You, you’re just mean, picking on my brother in the middle of nowhere with no one around.”

A moment of silence passes by as everyone processes my words, including me. Oops.

The guy looks hysterical, now. “You. Little. Jer—Ngphm!”

My brother, who gives him the scariest, foulest glare I have ever seen, grips the guy’s arm in a painful-looking way to stop his advance upon me. Even I shrink back a little. Wait, what? This is my brother. Of course I’m not scared. I straighten myself.

“Touch him, and you will pay,” Jas threatens, voice low. “I tolerate you, as I do most people. However, anything happen to Noah and you’re done for, I swear. Now, get your face away.”

Did I say something about my brother not knowing aggression? I take that back. He definitely knows aggression. He knows it real good. I watch as the guy saunters away, trying to look cool, continuing to stare daggers as Jas until he turns the corner. Turning back to Jas, I notice his hands fisted by his sides, trembling, struggling to contain anger, I guess.

“You—you—!” My brother exclaims. “Why were you here? You should have stayed home. And I told you to stay out of my affairs.” He attempts to take a deep breath. I can see it’s a struggle. “On another note, Noah, have I ever told you how much I love you? Man, you’re like, my right arm or something.”

“I—Yeah.” I think I probably look very embarrassed, because Jasper glances at me and smirks. “On another note, Jasper… Does this happen a lot? I don’t like seeing that. It’s so bad.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “No,” he says. “No, it’s not a regular occurrence.”

What a liar.

“Anyways, that coffee I was talking about. How about it?”

I grin. “Yeah! Coffee! I get coffee!” I hop up and down, whooping with delight.

Well, I suppose my brother’s “regular occurrences” can wait. One day, he’ll tell me.