Maddie Mackenzie’s Dearest Diary - Chapter 1
This, my dear, is one of the many unending ramblings of Madison Brooke Mackenzie. I would advise that you waste your time on reading something more interesting. After all, what good did reading a stranger’s diary ever do for you?
~ ピンク~
I had known Klaus for some time now. It hadn’t been that long-about four months, if I recall correctly-since I had met him. At that time, I only thought of him as nothing more than a mere comrade. A few months passed after our first encounter and I found myself slowly falling for somebody, Romeo Cesare whose smile seemed so contagious to me. Now I had never been one to contain my feelings properly; they always came out as a form of anger. Perhaps it was the suppressed feelings, the desperate longing for the affection of another-something which I only received from family and friends and, honestly, who would be content with just that?
My first real encounter with Klaus was during one afternoon when I stubbornly refused to go home. Mostly everyone had already left, and we were the only ones left. He asked me about my day-a normal, albeit cliché starter for a conversation. I responded by rambling-perhaps a better word is ranting-about how my day was inextricably ruined by an unfortunate encounter with the object of my affections. No words were exchanged, and I wasn’t even quite sure that he had noticed me, but it had me in a bad mood nonetheless.
The conversation went on as the ranting turned into incessant chatter about random topics, accompanied by his insights on the subject of love and infatuation. He told me that sometimes one is merely in love with the idea of love and not the object of love itself. I was old enough to understand that, and I knew well that I was often in love with the idea of being in love. However, I learned something else that afternoon-that this person was not quite like the other boys I had met. There was indeed something different about this one; he spoke wise words and gave fatherly advice and insights. He was more mature than others, even more mature than the boys I met in college.
I thought of him as a brother. Klaus always listened to my depressive complaints about every little thing and he always tried to cheer me up. I grinned at the thought of having a friend to rely on. We talked about the oddest things, from socks and underwear to my fangirly views on homosexuality among men (better known to the Japanese community as yaoi) to God (a subject that I disliked since I wasn’t very religious). It was easy to see that I was quite comfortable with him.
Soon, I realized that I was losing interest in Romeo. Perhaps it was because of Klaus, his insistence to drive me home whenever I stayed out until dark (which I always refused after the first time), the nickname he had for me (Marshmallow, which I rather disliked), the happiness and contentedness I felt whenever he was around despite my general depressive mood (I call it being “soft”, hence my nickname), and the way he cared about me. Romeo, on the other hand, hardly ever acknowledged me and flirted with girls to the point that he was labeled obnoxious. I always had to be the first to talk to him, whereas Klaus would ask me how my day was or if I was happy.
One day, while Klaus and I were just sitting and talking about how we didn’t understand the concept of lingerie, he suddenly asked if there was anybody I liked. I was caught off guard by the question. I had, in fact, thought of it before, but I wasn’t quite sure about it. After about a full minute of constant stuttering, I sighed in defeat. I wasn’t going to tell him that I was in love, though. Instead, I stuck with the safest answer to his question: “I don’t know” followed by an awkward laugh. Hopefully, I thought, he wouldn’t persist with his questioning.
Before I knew it, I found myself thinking less and less about the conceited Romeo and his annoyingly Italian name, and thinking more and more about Klaus, the blonde, boy-next-door type bishounen. Thinking less about Romeo wasn’t much of a difference as I hardly thought about him even before I became friends with Klaus.
I didn’t enjoy looking at either of them though. Normally, when I liked somebody, I would admire him from afar, but I would avoid looking at him if we were face to face. With those two, I couldn’t even glance in their direction-at least, not on purpose-even from afar. Romeo wasn’t exactly an Adonis. Klaus, on the other hand, had quite a handful of admirers who liked him both for his appearance as well as his personality. Well, screw his appearance. I never found him to be attractive at all. His eyes were very alluring, I’ll give him that much. I always reprimanded him whenever he took off his glasses. I was already insecure enough with those beautiful dark eyes behind his not-round-at-all Harry Potter specs.
~ ピンク~
I close my notebook and sighed. I don’t know why I waste my time in writing my dribbles. It’s not like any of them are actually worth reading. My dark eyes search the room for a split-second. Everybody else has left, and I am the only person remaining in the classroom. I hear footsteps. The next class will start soon.
I leave the room just in time as a crowd of students enter through the other door. It’s one of those days that I didn’t bother to dress up. Instead of a skirt and blouse with those awesome-Klaus said so himself-striped socks that I adore so much, I am wearing a random statement shirt and jeans. What does it matter anyway?
Maybe I should tell him today. No, I shouldn’t. Maybe he likes me back. Yeah right. Men like those are too perfect to like anyone other than himself. He’s Klaus, for God’s sake. Of course he cares about me. I wasn’t asking if he did. Well, he does. Screw him. You love him. He’s my friend. Of course I love him. I love all my friends. And that bastard Romeo? He’s a bastard. That’s all there is to it. You’re so cute, Maddie. Whatever you say, narcissist bitch.
“Hey.” Oh God, speak of the freaking devil. He grins at me, probably expecting me to respond.
“Eh,” I grunt, avoiding his eyes as usual. I wonder if he knows that I avoid his eyes on purpose. The last time I looked at him straight in the eye, my ego died.
“How was your day?” he asks. What is this, some kind of habit?
“Been better.”
He frowns. Maybe it’s because I’m frowning, or because of my short responses. “Are you busy?”
I grin at him, something which I rarely do when I’m in one of these moods. “Have I ever been busy?”
Klaus walks me to the vending machine. I stare blankly at the large red machine in front of us as he stuffs a few coins into the coin slot. “Do you want Milo?”
I know that question. He’s asking, and if I say yes, he’ll treat me to a steaming cup of hot chocolate-something I’ve come to dislike over the years. I shake my head, almost defensively. As soon as he gets his drink from the machine, we walk to the benches and sit down. A heavy sigh escapes my lips.
He mimics my sigh and grins when he sees the exasperated look on my face. I try to resist the urge to roll my eyes. For someone who spent his time asking random friends about their opinions of God, this guy could be such a child sometimes.
“So, what’s up?” he asks, making himself comfortable on the bench.
“What do you mean what’s up?” I retort, raising my eyebrow. “You’re the one who took me here.”
He chuckles. “I mean, y’know, how’s life?”
I let out another sigh. “It’s horridly boring.”
“Well…” he pauses, thinking of a different topic to talk about. I sense the invisible light bulb light up above his head, and he continues, “how about love life?”
I hate it when he asks about this. I’m not sure whether it’s because I’m guilty of being in love, or if it’s because I simply dislike talking about it with him. I decide to lie again. “I don’t have one.” It’s not as if I like lying to him, but rather, I don’t have much of a choice.
“Everybody has one,” he laughs, “even if it’s not serious.”
I shift uneasily in my seat, contemplating on what I should do next, on how I should answer. I take a brief side-glance at the annoying personification of perfection sitting beside me, grinning expectantly for an answer.
Is that really what you want to say? Yes. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I won’t. I have no reason to.
I take a deep breath and exhale calmly, before standing abruptly and glaring at him, my eyes filled with all the hatred I could muster. “It’s you, dammit!” I yell. “You’re all the same! The same obnoxious bastards who just smile cluelessly while others suffer! Ugh!”
I don’t know how he reacts. He doesn’t react at all. He only keeps smiling at me with that same obnoxious smile. In the end, I’m unable to say anything at all. What if I did yell at him like I wanted to? Would the smile disappear? I don’t know. I just sit there, not knowing how to react, not knowing how to tell him about the emotions bottled up inside.
Thoughts and questions race through my mind. I’m thinking too much. I always think too much. I love you. I’ve never kissed a boy before. I love you. No boy has ever actually liked me before. I love you. My best friend lied when he said he liked me. I can’t remember the last time I smiled honestly. I love you. I don’t want to fall in love ever again. I love you. Love only hurts people. I love you.
I close my eyes and open them again only to see that his smile has disappeared. I want to ask why, but I already know the answer. I was crying again. Without me realizing, tears have rolled down my cheeks. I want him to embrace me, to show me that he cares, to show me that he is beside me. I want to call out to him, but I don’t. Perhaps he will ask me what’s wrong without me telling him. After all, he isn’t Romeo. Yes, maybe he will.
And he did.
~ ピンク~
I remember the first time I cried in front of him. I had told him that I almost cut myself. I had had a fight with my family and locked myself in my bedroom. I felt embarrassed, crying in public with this guy whom I barely knew. Everybody else was laughing and smiling with their friends, but I was telling Klaus my depressing story as I suppressed my sobs.
When I finished speaking, he only smiled at me and asked, “Do you need a hug?”
I felt awkward. I wasn’t very open to hugs, and here a guy was asking me if I needed a hug. Yes, I did, but… he seemed insistent. I let a soft sigh escape my chapped lips and I nodded reluctantly. My entire body softened as I felt his warmth surround me. It was the warmth that I needed. The warmth of a mother, a brother, a father, a sister. The warmth of somebody who cared. The warmth of love.
~ ピンク~ ♡
© carynne0 (deviantART), froggys0cks ( LiveJournal), Alison [insert my last name here] (real life)
Edited Wednesday, October 6, 2010, 7:20 PM GMT+8:00