It was recess.
You could hear the bustle of students talking about life stuff and various nonsense.
Meanwhile, I...
Was on my phone, scrolling through social media to feed my poor dopamine.
After that arduous conversation via paper slips with Elin, where she asked me questions as if it were an interrogation and I were the main suspect, I ended up more mentally tired than I'd like to admit.
It had been a long time since I'd had a conversation—if you can even call it that—that lasted so long.
My brain circuits were overheated.
And meanwhile, she was chatting normally with fourteen classmates at once.
I guess she must be used to talking a lot.
At one point, the classroom door opened.
It was him.
Walking in as if he owned the damn place, passing through classmates like Moses parting the waters.
Ruining my day again.
Doesn't he have enough people to bother?
Why don't you go with them instead?
Never in my entire school life had I wanted recess to end so badly.
"Hey everyone, what were you talking about?"
He spoke to them as if he'd known them his whole life.
"Oh, if it isn't Evan," spoke NPC No. 3—nicknames assigned by me.
"We were talking about what we're going to do this weekend," said another NPC.
Seems the bastard is famous, huh?
"Seriously, am I invited or not?" repeated Evan/Idiot.
"Of course, why wouldn't you be!" said NPC No. 10.
"Actually, I was going to invite you later," Elin clarified.
"I see, so what's the outing about?" asked the excrement—Evan.
"We were going to go to a Chinese food place that's great," commented NPC No. 7. Or was it No. 6...? Doesn't matter.
They kept talking like that until the bell rang.
"So that's that, see you later guys," expressed the idiot.
"Sure, see you later," Elin said goodbye.
After those typical disgusting conversations with your typical disgusting friends, who are also disgusting, he finally left.
Now comes another bad moment…
Normal classes.
——
Damn fateful classes…
I hate them with my soul.
…
Now that I've vented in an internal monologue, let's continue.
It was time to go home, but first I had to go to the bathroom.
I couldn't hold it anymore.
I gathered my things and headed to the blessed bathroom, to do my business like any human being.
…
When I finished what God sent me to do, I proceeded to wash my hands.
All ready and completely clean, I leave the bathroom to head for the exit.
A thought crosses my mind.
I feel like I'm forgetting something.
…
Oh, right, I almost forgot.
I have to meet her.
I headed to the classroom and there she was, with her characteristic red hair.
The light reflected in her beautiful eyes and her white skin, resembling the porcelain of a doll.
I felt my hands sweat and my heart rate accelerate just thinking about the two of us being alone.
Why do I get so nervous?
Remember, Eiran, you do this to survive.
I do this to survive.
I only do this to survive...
…
Ready, now I'm more than prepared!
I started to walk forward...
Just as I was about to take the next step, the system appeared, delivering another message:
[WARNING!!]
>THIS MOMENT IS CRUCIAL FOR FURTHER DEVELOPMENT OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP.
DEPENDING ON THE DECISIONS YOU MAKE, IT COULD LEAD DOWN ONE PATH OR ANOTHER.
…
It's always the same message, the lack of creativity in this thing is unbelievable.
It's not even a "DO YOUR BEST" or something like that...
Just... I'm going to ignore it.
I opened the door and took a step forward.
She turned to look at me and greeted me:
"Hi, why were you late?" she asked.
Late? Only fifteen minutes have passed since class ended.
"I went to do some things..." I replied, surprising even myself at how well I'd said it.
"Some things? Like what?" she asked again.
Please stop with your questions.
I don't want to be in an interrogation again.
Besides that...
What's with these questions? It's not like you're my mother. What's next, asking permission to breathe?
"Nothing important..."
"Hmmm..., I see, okay then..."
What does she want now?
"Are you really angry with him?"
…
"I don't want to talk about that."
Why does she have to bring that up now? Does she have a sixth sense for hitting the most uncomfortable topics?
"Why?"
"Because it's wrong to talk about other people behind their backs... I guess."
What the hell am I saying? I thought as I looked at her, hoping she wouldn't ask any more questions. Why the hell did I get myself into this mess?
She was quiet for a moment, observing me with a curious gaze. I couldn't help feeling like she was reading every part of my brain.
"Is that all?"
"Yes," I replied, trying to sound convincing.
God, I wish I knew how to have a normal conversation.
"You're too weird."
…
What? I thought while trying to process her comment. Weird? Me?
What the hell is that about?
"Are you telling me you only got angry because he took your seat?"
It's a totally plausible reaction, I think.
"Yes."
…
There was a silence of a few seconds.
"I don't understand," she said, holding her head in her hand.
"And what do you think another reason would be?" I asked back.
The silence that followed was charged with something uncomfortable, as if she were expecting a deeper answer than the one I had to offer.
She looked at me with a slight expression of confusion, as if processing my words.
"Well... I don't know, maybe..." Her tone became thoughtful, "Maybe... you're jealous that someone else is occupying your place."
Jealous? Of what?
"Jealous?" I replied, the word leaving my lips with a certain tone of disbelief.
"Yes... Maybe," she said doubtfully.
I think this girl is confusing things.
What does "occupying your place" mean?
I imagine she means the seat.
If that's the meaning of her words, then she's absolutely damn right.
…
"What do you mean by 'someone else occupying your place'?"
"Hmmm... I don't know, I think it's kind of complicated to explain."
…
If you don't know what it means, then don't say it, you know? I thought to myself, but didn't say it out loud.
Damn it, now I'm curious about what she really means.
"Okay, let's change the subject," she replied, clapping her hands together.
Incredible, she really knows how to deflect the conversation quickly.
"You... Have you ever had a girlfriend?"
…
I wish we could have stayed on the previous topic.
"Why do you ask that?" I responded defensively.
"I'm just curious."
Never be curious again in your life, ever again.
"...I guess never," I replied, somewhat embarrassed, looking at the floor.
"I figured," she said, without showing much emotion.
…
Is she looking for a fight?
I never imagined the 'Cute New Girl' would be so... Rude.
As friendly as she seems… She lets out words like sharp knives, aimed at the neck.
Simply cruel.
"What are you looking for with that question?" I said, feeling the need to find an answer that made some sense.
"I just want to find a topic of conversation."
Girl, I assure you, there are a thousand topics before this one.
"And does this topic of conversation have to do with being uncomfortable?"
"People usually talk about this with friends, right?"
Yeah, sure, you talk about it with friends... But there's a small difference... We are not friends!
And you call ME weird.
Okay... Ignoring her words.
"Haah... Honestly, I think falling in love and that kind of stuff is like a double-edged sword. It can be amazing or completely destructive."
"You think so?"
"Yes, honestly I don't feel I can love knowing that one day it can all go down the drain, the same thing happens with friends, one day you can tell each other all the secrets you want, but the next they can stab you in the back."
"I see... Yes, this confirms something for me."
Confirm?
"You really are weird."
…
After everything I just let out, that's it?
What did I really expect? Thanks for being so honest about love and betrayal? A deep conversation, maybe?
No. Instead, I get called weird.
She's a demon. No, worse. She's an enigma.
"You simply weren't taught how to love."
Love? I don't know how to love?
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean it in every sense."
"..."
I don't understand it at all.
"Where did you get such a dark and tetric perspective on love? You really are a negative person!" She pointed her finger at me.
"Don't you care about the happy moments you spent with the other person?"
"Happy moments?" I repeated, almost with contempt. "What good are happy moments to me? Those moments won't protect me from what comes later."
"Haaaah..." she let out a long, overly dramatic sigh.
"Just looking at your eyes makes me want to get depressed," she said, bringing a hand to her forehead, as if on the verge of collapse.
I just watched her in silence, not knowing whether to laugh or get irritated.
"Listen to me carefully," she continued, lowering her tone slightly. "My father always said that there's learning in every relationship. It doesn't matter what type of relationship it is."
You... You don't know anything...
"What does it matter what the person did? You simply distance yourself from them, learn what you have to learn, and that's it. You don't make the same mistakes again," she said with an irritating calm. "It's pretty easy, if you think about it."
"..."
Every word she let out was like a lash on my back, tearing my skin.
Painful, heartbreaking, and powerless.
I could only remain silent.
I wanted to refute her.
I wanted to scream at her that no, it wasn't that easy.
But the words simply wouldn't come out.
She didn't know what had happened.
Everything I suffered, because of these useless feelings.
The pain every time I remembered those words.
Everything.... Everything was painful.
My memories.
My unreachable dreams with that person, which turned into endless nightmares.
Nothing...
Simply nothing could pull me out of that deep, dark, damp pit.
No way out.
No trace of Light...
"If you can't do it... I can help you. Like you helped me," she said with a sincerity and kindness I had never heard before.
…
It was the first time words hadn't come disguised as poison.
But...
I was afraid.
My whole body went numb.
As if an invisible hand were squeezing my chest.
Questions fluttered in my head non-stop:
What if I trust her?
Can I afford this?
What assures me she won't do the same as "that person"?
Just thinking about it made me sick.
Disgust.
So much disgust...
A disgust so deep it burned my throat.
I hear her voice, like a bell waking me from my dark, deep sleep.
"Please... Be my friend?"
"What does it matter what I learned if it ends badly anyway?" I spat out almost without thinking.
She didn't respond immediately.
Just looked at me. Fixedly. As if searching for something behind my words, as if trying to understand why I clung so tightly to that cheap cynicism that wrapped around me like a wet blanket.
"...Then why do you do anything?" she finally asked, quietly.
I didn't know what to answer.
My lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.
Why?
Good question.
Why get up every morning?
Why go to school?
Why talk to anyone if eventually everything goes to hell?
Why?
"...I don't know," I admitted, feeling small.
"Then," she said, smiling faintly, strangely warm, "if you don't know, you'd better try."
I frowned.
"Or maybe not," she added, shrugging, as if dismissing it. "It's your decision. I'm just saying... sometimes living trying is better than living fearing."
...
That phrase stuck in my head.
And I hated that she was right.