ORIGINAL: Frozen in time
Summary: without the happily ever after
Word count: 1.120
About the story: writen after a particularly bad break up between two friends of mine
As I watched her tearstained cheeks, my own eyes started to well up. That didn’t suppose to happen, me becoming sympathetic. I was supposed to be stone cold and resolute, and here I was, becoming a child before her very eyes. How unbecoming of me, how weak. I knew there would only be a minute before she’d stretch her arms out to me and invite me into her embrace. As if I were the sinful one and asking for forgiveness.
The silence engulfed us save for the sound of rain drumming against the window glass. She stood there, a few feet away from me, her look full of remorse, her sky blue eyes beckoning to me. How long would I last faced with this sight? Has she made a bet with herself how long will it be until I forgive her after seeing tears in her eyes? If I were really a bastard I'd slap her so hard across the face and make her forever disgusted by me. As disgusted as I feel by her right now. But I'm not a bastard nor can I be stone cold when she's so near me and I know just how warm her touch is and how sweet her kisses can be.
Minutes could have been hours; I wouldn’t be able to tell. As if we were frozen in time, and forever doomed to stand in one place, we both hardly breathed. Then all of a sudden the rain stopped and it seemed like everything got erased, except for the two of us standing in front of one another, waiting to see who would be the first to buckle down and break the silence.
I could see her taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes to brace herself before she lets out a sound. The words I’m sorry never seemed hollower than at that moment. I have never heard them so artificial and insincere sounding in my life. They echoed all around us and bounced off the walls, just like sounds do in an empty room. But instead, it was my heart they were bouncing around in.
Her eyelashes were dark and heavy with tears; a stream of salty droplets came running down in a surge from her eyes after she spoke out loud. I gripped my fists and clenched my jaw to stop myself from reacting. It was against my nature to just stand there doing nothing when everything could be fixed by a single gentle touch. Fixed, for her. I on the other hand could be ruined forever.
I must understand, she pleaded, it was an impulse, a glitch in her judgment, something so uncontrollable it almost felt like an out-of-body experience. She would never do anything to hurt me on purpose. With her voice wavering she took a step forward and I, like I’ve been scorched by a mad flame, took a step back. It stung her, I could tell, seeing me so unwilling to even consider having her any closer than I had her now.
Why am I being such a child, she wanted to know. I almost laughed but it got caught in my throat and then I knew I shouldn’t. We could so easily resolve the whole issue if only I were ready to communicate with her. Forgive her, I spoke at last, that’s what she really meant by communicating, am I right? She blinked and remained silent, and with that she gave me a very clear sign I that I was.
And there we were, at the beginning once again. Like standing on trial, guilty even before anyone offered to prove otherwise, she hoped for a simple slap on the wrist. I wanted to see her shamed and stoned, but I would have never said it out loud because I might have regretted it, I surely would. It was the jealousy eating me out, burning on my insides like a vicious acid. Such a powerful blow I have never experienced before and at that moment I could honestly feel my heart wilting.
She asked if I’d ever consider listening to her side of the story and then she dried her eyes with the back of her hand like a child does. I wasn’t ready and I told her that, for what I know already is simply too much, I don’t care whose side it was. She nodded, and then went to speak out again but the words never came out. It was for the better, anyway, because I could feel myself being smothered by the sound of her voice like swimming in molasses.
Slowly, the whole deal became tiresome. Her tears dried out but my fists were still squeezed tight. She slouched her shoulders and sat on the armrest of the sofa we picked out together. I remained on my feet, standing in that tiny little spot as if that was the only safe place on the planet for me right now. She must think I’m so insensitive and cold for not saying more than I have, for I’ve barely said five words since I’ve opened the door and saw her standing in the half dark of the hallway. Right then I knew exactly how bad my day is going to become.
So now what, her voice was barely a whisper. Should she leave and let me sleep on my decision, on the possibility of our future? Should she stay a while longer and beg some more? Should she snap me out of my reverie by forcing herself on me? That last one was a joke, she said. I never felt the need to laugh. She wanted me to say something; she half pleaded, half demanded with her voice suddenly raised. I couldn’t, for the life of me, put two words together.
Fine was the last thing she said before she stood up and shrugged her jacket on. I wanted to fight her off but something stopped me entirely from moving when she took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders and buried her face into my neck. Like water embracing a big block of ice, I started to crack. I closed my eyes and daydreamed for a second that everything was alright.
I have every right to be mad, she whispered into my ear. She would be. I just needed to understand not everything is as grave as I’m making it to be.
She left and later that evening I noticed her set of keys was on the table in the hallway. I took them in my hand and they still seemed warm from how she always kept them in the pocket of her jeans.
The end.