track #06 in gwyneth thalia anderson

itzy // loco.

TWO RAPS come at my door, followed by Tristan poking his head through the gap.

I sit cross-legged on my bed with a book in my lap, but once he comes in, I immediately put it away, gesturing for Tristan to sit on the bed with me, but he chooses the chair instead.

"I heard you guys outside," I murmur, and he nods in understanding. "I don't know what you want me to say, honestly. Do you want me to tell you it wasn't fair? I don't think so – so what do you want to talk about. I'm here to listen; always."

He shakes his head no to my question. "I- I just don't understand. If Aiden truly loved Anson, why'd he give the promise of their eternal love to someone else? And at that, Laine, Anson's best friend? It's the equivalent of cheating, Gwyn. It's common knowledge that you don't even date your best friend's ex – or pretend nothing happened when she in fact passed away. The thing is, I saw Aiden looking at her with love in his eyes. How could this have happened?"

My eyes start glazing over – both in sadness for Tristan and disbelief at Aiden's behavior. Sure, I knew Laine now owned the promise ring Aiden was supposed to give his dead girlfriend, but I didn't read too much into it. Now that Tristan had pointed it out, I began to feel like Aiden was deliberately changing his emotions.

"Maybe he's just trying to forget she ever existed at all. To him, removing all reminders of Anson's existence could be his remedy. Either that or drowning in pain."

Trissy takes a book from my shelf and flips through it, "But not both. I swear every time I'm home, he's stuck in his room listening to her old voice messages muttering Anson, Anson, Anson. But then he's ripping her pictures apart, pretending she meant nothing to him, giving Laine the ring that was supposed to be hers. Why? And he isn't even acknowledging Cadence's death. Doesn't he understand that they all meant a lot to us? Ava died, Gwyneth. My sister died. And Aiden has the audacity to act disrespectful in front of everyone here, who're all mourning the loss of people so important to us? Unlike what Kun said, this is truly selfish. Not you choosing to save your parents. You weren't wrong for that. I respect you for it."

I sigh at the mention of Kunboss – I still haven't managed to make things right with him once and for all. "I guess I'm starting to become insecure, Tris," I say, pulling a blanket over my legs. "He keeps saying I'm selfish. I used to strongly oppose it, but now that my actions have played such a big part in this, I'm starting to doubt whether my choices were right. You can hate me. Anson, Ava, Cadence – they all died because of me. But-"

"-you love your dad," he cuts in, and I nod sadly. "I would do the same. Don't let him define you or what you do. Look at this," he manages a tight-lipped smile, lifting the book up.

"I forgot I had that," I laugh at the appearance of a thin superhero comic book, imagining it among my shelves along shelves of thick fiction and nonfiction alike.

"With great power comes great responsibility," he quotes. "You're like this superhero. The world is in peril, but your friends are in danger. The superhero chooses the world just because of the expectations he's expected to fulfil, but in the end, he ends up lonely and friendless. With the power that he's given, he's definitely expected to not exploit. The problem comes here – to what extent is 'exploit' unacceptable? You see, this is a matter of personal gain versus world benefit. But what if you put one directly after the other, with both of them going on at the same time, like constants in a code? Like a loop? Is that selfish, or simply... human behaviour?"

I smile at the metaphor, and he hands me the book, which I flip through. My eyes land on the last page, with the superhero's cape in tatters on the ground, where he sits next to his family and friends' graves. The caption, in neon yellow bubble letters, says, 'NOT ALL PEOPLE IN CAPES ARE SUPERHEROES', and I immediately shut the book, shoving it back where it came from.

"I agree with what you said," I begin, smiling at my newfound confidence. "I just want to save my family and friends first – before the rest of the world. People might say it's immoral behaviour, but I think neglecting the people I love in favour of people I don't even know is the emotionless, wrong thing to do. How could they willingly sacrifice the people they grew up with? That's just... wrong on so many levels. I could sacrifice myself for them, but I wouldn't just stand there and leave them to die, even if it meant I'd survive myself. I'd run into a fire for them, Tris."

"I totally understand. You put us before them, but that doesn't mean you don't care about them, too," he says as I nod.

I smile just a bit. "I guess none of those fairytales are even close to reality at all," I remark, referring to the book that has been shoved back into its case, probably never to see light again.

I still remember the fairytales my mom would tell me in the vivid gardens of the village or as we walked on the cobblestone path towards the town. Tales about romantic endings, passionate kisses next to the moonlit lake, a prince charming saving the girl he was to love with his whole life, or weddings with infinite promises sewn together in every joined step. They were tales that dared me to hope and dream about having what they had – not their fantasy love, but simply the pure bond every one of them shared. The characters were all black or white, but the real world was much crueller.

I wanted simple friendships that would last forever, a bond with those I'd forever love. To have a happily ever after and live the rest of my life happily and peacefully. But alas, fairytales were never reality, and could never be. I should have listened to what my mom said before telling me that first story – never believe in fairytales, because none of that will happen in real life. Only the extremely fortunate could receive fantasies of their own – but for me, I should've known, should've been able to forebode – the hope, turning back into nightmares. Nightmares of failures, twisted heartbreaks, wretched souls, and abundant sobs. Nightmares of friendships breaking, people betraying, and my worst fear – no one understanding me.

Because while meeting each other was written in the stars, some of us were never meant to be. And although a sliver of myself still hopes, I knew we'd never be fortunate enough to receive our own happily ever after.

"I get it. But like the favourite shirt from when we were little, one day you go to put it on, but it can't even fit over your head. I'm not telling you what to do, but maybe this is a possibility. If he can't understand you."

I frown. "Are you asking me to end things with Kun? Tris, I- I could never. If not for me, then for Zoey. Imagine how awkward she'll feel. Once upon a time, she was the side piece, and he was the middle. Without him, our friend group couldn't even function."

"I saw that time in the Hunger Games," he answers. "That was also one prime example of what I've just demonstrated. Personal gain versus world gain. You giving Zoey the berries was personal gain for both of you. For you – one step closer to victory and the way home. For her – a life with Kun. Yet it was the Hunger Games, so no one questioned your decision. How would it be different now? Imagine if thirteen-year-old Zoey had refused the berries and chosen world gain. She'd probably be depressed, but chose for her family. It's just the same thing, over and over again. It's just that times change, and it's no longer the Hunger Games."

"I feel sad," I blurt. "We were so close. So, so close. But he suddenly changed, and it's like I'm alone in the winding desert of life as he gallops away on a horse or something and sends sand flying into my face."

All the smiles and memories we shared flash through my mind at this present moment. Before everything, before all the laughter faded into an endless void of darkness – I never knew that your heart could break like this, and I never knew the person I called my best friend would be the one to break it.

Tristan stands up and puts a hand on my shoulder – I flinch. "Zoey's with you. Eunice's with you, I'm also with you. Don't think about Kunboss anymore. It'll only hurt you further," When I feel the tears starting to slide from my face, he sits back down on the chair. "Think about it like this. The two of you are like puzzle pieces, worn with time, until one no longer fits the other. Does that make you feel better?"

I frown on the outside, but internally, I know it's the right decision.

Maybe it's the time for me to let the boy with messy hair, a warm heart of gold, and mismatched outfits go. Maybe I should accept the person sitting in front of me into my life instead – it'd make living in this house so much easier.

His memory is like a stain in my heart that will never go away. The memories turn melancholy, dyed with a faint tinge of blue.

I smile to myself as I make my decision, looking into the hourglass.

I watch as the flames burn it all away. The memory of me screaming as he chases me around the chicken coop, my brown eyes anxious and hair flying all over the place. The memory of us lying dead asleep at the beach, the quiet sea lapping around us. The memory of us in the photo booth at the annual fair, right before our lives changed forever, his tousled sandy-brown hair made messy by the hat and his hazel eyes laughing with humour. The memory of the promise of forever friendships through two connected necklaces. Because like everything else from our time together, the memories are now heartbreaking. Just like the memories, I don't want the reminiscences of our friendship anymore. And just like our friendship, he broke the promise forever.

He told me we'd always stay together, but he left me, in my darkest times. But however much I want to leave everything about him and our memories behind, I can't bring myself to. His stain will never budge, so it'll probably never leave and will stay, just as the reminder of him did, in my heart forever – simply because it's too precious to throw away.

One small picture falls to the ground, and I smile. It's our oldest picture. I decide to keep it – the only thing I'll keep of him – even after we run our separate ways – because I'd always thank him for starting this heart-wrenching, yet truly emotional and fulfilling journey. And I'd thank myself for hopping on the train right before it left the station. At last, maybe it's the time for the two trains to separate onto different tracks after running on parallel lines for so long – they said true friends never really leave, but I guess this time's for good.

– a/n: i didn't realize just how long this chapter is while writing or even editing it; it just felt right to include everything that i wrote into this emotional monologue. i hope this helped you gain insight on why gwyneth did what she did – i feel like she's really one of the most difficult characters to sculpt and write and it's hard to make readers feel for her as most main characters are traditionally "boring", and since this storyline has followed her for the past five years, it's no different for her. 

i hope you still love gwyneth as a character nonetheless, regardless of the parallel lines i've written for her and her friends. i promise it works out in the end <3

p.s. i'm eternally sorry for updating late, it totally slipped my mind 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️