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Star crossed lovers; that’s what I would have liked to called it, that’s what I would’ve picked over the reality, Because reality as it was to me, was nothing but a hopeless tragedy- unrequited love- and for him, merely an unspoken rejection of my whispered feelings. I would've wanted him to at least love me.
I was 17 when I first met him, he was 16 and shorter than I was; his long, blonde hair plaid neatly at the back and mine partly gelled back with loose strands fanning my face; I was reprimanded by the teacher on my first day, my hair wasn't neat enough, the twin piercings on my eyebrows weren't allowed either; months later that boy told me he liked them, he liked the way the sunlight hit them that day,
"Channie hyung, later, lets get matching piercings okay? we can get kicked out of class together".
It wasn’t until the seating arrangement was changed and we were placed together -because I was the new kid feeling out of place in a class of perhaps 35 students who knew each other since they were 5- that he finally spoke to me, “I’m Felix! you’re funny, we’re going to get along just right”; I was enamored with his voice, unwittingly. I hadn’t fallen in love at first sight, bells didn’t ring when I lay my eyes on him, the world didn’t stop around us as he spoke, my mind did not supply with
“I think I’m going to want to hold you close and never let go”
like it did with my first lover; it was almost anti-climactic; almost nothing but not entirely either; I liked his smile. He looked even prettier smiling.
Light conversations that abstained from touching the deep waters -of the sins that tainted me, regrets that consumed me, secrets that caged me- changed into bumping shoulders and holding hands in the corridors, tear-stained confessions and new found promises at the back benches and empty classrooms; he wasn’t breaking down my walls but was climbing them; I did not hurl down boulders like I thought I would, rather I let down a rope and helped him on his climb to me. I was silently begging to be saved by him and he was giving me exactly that and maybe more; we were going to tower over the world at the top of those walls, together. I did not know I’d done and said so much until he left me with a bleeding heart and unspoken “I love you’s” 3 years later.
I remember the first time I cried in school, the first time I cried infront of him; he sat on a stool next to mine, we were painting in the 3rd floor art room, the entire floor almost empty if not for a few teachers in other classrooms, I had paint on my hands -blues, greens, whites- and tears brimming in my eyes; he saw me. He said nothing and then he did,
“it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. I don’t know what it is but I’m here, I’m always here”
but I knew that he knew, he always did, he simply refused to push me to the edge, instead he held me in his arms and for the first time in a long while, I felt safe; I was free falling. Heartbreak, anxiety, depression were the demons on my shoulders then -now- and he listened as I spoke of the fears a little beneath the surface that showed; he empathized, and I cried a little more at the feeling of my heart growing lighter. I grieved for another, for a failed relationship, but I think I had already, hopelessly, fallen in love with him by then; come to think of it, I was always a little in love with him even when I thought I wasn’t; how could I not? He was too lovable to not be loved.
The last time I hugged him were months before the last time we spoke; both events bittersweet in my memory, both events fresh in my mind yet slightly blurry; I remember how I felt and what I should’ve said and hadn’t said but I can’t remember if either of us had tried to stop our end from nearing. We were 20 then; we’d fought and cried and made up so many times that it was routine; we missed each other over and over again, held each other closer and closer again, until it was no longer enough. He said I let him down,
“You weren’t there for me but they were; you didn't do enough but they did; you weren't there, you weren't fucking there and…. We should end this once and for all, we shouldn’t hurt each other any further; it's too much, I'm sorry…. this is goodbye”.
My hands had trembled, my heart had hurt, the fresh cuts that I dug my nails into had stung, I was in agony as I’d read all that he’d sent; I wanted to scream, I wanted to tell him that he’s the one who let me down, he’s the one who left me as I struggled, he’s the one who believed someone that wasn’t me, he’s the one who had turned his back on us without warning; I wanted to tell him that I hated him; but I did not; I did not scream, I did not fight, I did not tell him that I hated him, I let it wash over me, I let it happen –
“You’re right, you’re always right. I take accountability for what I've done, I mean it... I’m so sorry for failing you, I’m sorry I wasn’t there; I’m sorry for hurting you; I should've done better, I'm sorry Felix…. I’ll leave, so, please be okay now, please…”
I’m sorry; I’m sorry; I’m sorry; I love you.
I’m 23 now, healing with a confession of love still buried in me. I look at pictures of him, pictures of us, I sometimes imagine talking to him again; no, I imagine talking to him a lot and sometimes I pull up the contact I still haven’t deleted and hover over the call button, I cry a little; but I’m 23 now and kinder to myself so, I don’t call, I don’t text, I don’t wish him on his birthday or any day; I don’t do anything more than miss him on some days. I loved him but he did not and even if he did, I pretend to believe otherwise, it hurts less that way; I loved him and I let myself get hurt; I loved, hurt, grieved and let go; but letting go never meant falling out of love, I’d never meant the “I hate you’s” that I’d chanted in my head, I’d never meant the “I wish we never met” that I whispered to no one in particular. I’d only ever said goodbye to us because he wanted me to -because I was always weak to what he asked of me- but some part of me had always known, that I’d always be a little in love with him, even if we had grown to become no less than strangers again. How could I not? When he was always meant to be loved endlessly.