September 2012

In the golden haze of an afternoon, a little girl and boy stood side by side in a crowded classroom. The room is filled with intrigued silence as the children await their turn in eagerness, gripping the edge of their seats. Encouraged by the teacher, the little girl finally stepped forward—just a little bit further than the boy—then opened her mouth, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness.

"I want to be an architect!" she announced, her eyes shining with excitement as she shared her dream with the class. The boy beside her nodded in encouragement, a supportive smile playing on his lips.

"Oh—that's very great, Emily! Why do you want to be an architect?" the teacher asked, curiosity evident in her tone.

"Because I want to build a house like my house!"

The teacher nodded her head, holding back a chuckle at your adorable response. At the far end of the room, Mr. Winters stood there with a smug face—beside him, Mrs. Winters put her face behind her hand in embarrassment. Nearby, Mr. and Mrs. Cavill clapped along with the room, their chuckles mingled with the amused atmosphere as they glanced at their bestfriends' reaction and the little girl. However, a sense of nervousness lingering in the air as all eyes turn to the next speaker.. their little boy..

Their mischievous Tyty.

As the spotlight shifted to their son, Mr. and Mrs. Cavill exchanged a knowing glance, bracing themselves for whatever might come next. Tyler stood with a mischievous glint in his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips as he addressed the class.

"I want to be Superman!"

He declared boldly, his voice ringing with confidence. With students and parents cheering and others exchanging amused glances, Mr. and Mrs. Cavill couldn't help but heaved a big sigh and shook their heads, acknowledging how their son's boundless imagination never fails to entertain.

Little you clapped excitedly, beaming as he turned his head just to check on your expression. Relieved and satisfied as he realized he just made the whole room—especially.. you entertained, he nodded with a smug expression.

Observing the little boy's gesture, Mr. Winters leaned in towards Mrs. Winters' ear and whispered, "See? That boy would be the death of me, Janet," acknowledging what he meant, a lopsided grin formed on Mrs. Winters' lips as she whispered,

"Trust me darling, he'll save you from so many dramas that'll unfold."

Losing a grin, Johnny retracted his head as he processed her words. Meanwhile, the teacher stifled a giggle, trying to maintain her composure. As the laughter gradually died down, she smiled warmly at Tyler and encouraged,

"Well, Tyler, you have a lot of courage and a big heart. So I believe.. you'll make a great Superman!"

Grinning from ear to ear at the teacher's encouragement, Tyler stepped back to align himself with you, allowing his other peers to take their turns. With a sparkle in his eyes, he turned to you, wanting to share his excitement.

"Did you hear that?" Tyler whispered eagerly, "she said I have a big heart—just like Superman!"

You returned his grin with equal enthusiasm, nodding in agreement as he turned his attention to the front. "Yeah, that's awesome, Tyty! You'd make a great Superman," little you replied, your voice filled with admiration—but then your expression went serious as if a whirlwind of thoughts struck you. Sensing your sudden vibe change, he reluctantly turned his head to you.

With concern painted on your face, you whispered, "We have different dreams.." with a voice filled with anticipation you reassured, "but we'll always go to the same school, right?"

Didn't even stutter one bit, little Tyler replied, "Always," his voice equally resolute, "no matter who we'll be, we stick together."

Then, disregarding the next person who was sharing their dream, as if the world belonged to just the two of you, he extended his pinkie finger towards you and whispered, "Bestfriends?"

Nodding in determination, you whispered, "Forever."

With solemn expressions on your faces, you clasped your tiny hands together, pinkies interlocked, sealing a promise that feels as heavy as the world itself.

Rule #3: Always—

"—go to the same school as your bestie! And you're only telling me this now?!"

You snap, frustration evident in your tone. The news of his college of choice hits you like a ton of bricks, catching you off guard. Tyler sits across from you—beside the lake—as helplessness surges within you, fueled by the realization that he didn't tell you much earlier. However, a comprehension begins to dawn on you as you realize.. you haven't been on good terms with him lately anyway, especially after the strange fight—

"I know.. I know—I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you.. I was still considering—" he admits, his voice tinged with remorse—but then his guilty expression transforms into frustration as he yells, "I didn't want to imagine this! This—" he spread their hands between your face to show what he meant, "this.. look of disappointment.."

Gazing at him with brows furrowed slightly, your lips forming a thin line of slight pout as you try to process his words. At your drained figure, he heaves a big sigh, also furrowing his brows, discomfort evident in his eyes. Cavill tilts his head in frustration, eyes concerned, as if he's pleading for you to say something. Letting out a big sigh, gathering yourself, you decide to break the silence with a stern expression, ready to bombard him with your thoughts.

"So this means another rule break—"

"I know—"

"And this means you'll go to Stanford for college—"

"I know,"

"So we won't be going to Yale together.."

"I know.."

His last whisper of helplessness gives another layer of realization as sadness creeps in. The thought of being apart from him for—most probably a decade, weighs heavily on your heart as you see him looking down, also heavily impacted with this tough decision. You know deep down that things won't be the same, going to college without him.

However, as his words sink in, the initial helplessness gives way to a sense of resignation. You feel a wave of acceptance wash over you as you come to terms with reality. While it's difficult to imagine life without him by your side, you know that some things are beyond your control. And this is definitely one of them. After.. a series of things he did that's also beyond your control, of course—

What I've learned for these past few weeks is that.. you can't be selfish. What you think is best for you could turn to backfire, right? Remember when you demanded his presence but instead—ok pop quiz, what did I get? Yes, they almost untangled their clothes in front of me. Ew ok memories—turn off!

All I know.. he's brilliant with a bright future ahead. I won't get in the way of his dreams just because—ok the rules are important too but this ones too old school, for all I know. Sometimes we need new amendments, you know?

"Ty.. ok listen—I know we made this school rule.. But we made it when we were kids. And basically, our parents were always the one who decided where we went, right? And since they're all bestfriends—that's why we always go to the same school! There's definitely an external factor for this one,"

"But our rule, Em. We made the rule—"

You briskly hold both of his arms firmly, reassuring him that you're okay, that he shouldn't worry about you.

"I know but we're grown-ups now—"

"Please stop saying grown up shit."

Wow oookay, I guess I'm not the only one with a PTSD from our recent fight—

Releasing a sigh, you slightly tilt your head, your eyes scanning his defeated expression. You release the hand that's been resting on his arm, to reluctantly reach out.. intertwining your fingers with his.

For a moment, he holds his breath, watching how you attentively stroke his index finger.. and he instinctively moves his finger to meet yours, as if yearning to touch you too. He shifts his gaze to your face.. from your sad eyes.. to.. your pouting lips.. noticing the way a strand of hair keeps getting in the way of his vision.. tempting him to get it out of the way.. to brush it aside, just like how Dominic did—

At the memory, his body becomes rigid, a stern expression painting his face. Frustration courses through him. He loathes how his own bestfriend wouldn't listen. How everything spiraled out of control despite the rule he set to maintain the peace, and now—

'Wyatt. That brat.' he thought to himself. If he didn't make the bet in the first place, none of this would happen. Seeking an outlet for his frustration, he traps your thumb and index finger between his own, prompting you to look at him and meet his stern gaze.

Worried that you might've upset him instead, you clarify, "What.. I meant was—we're so close to being 18! And this college thing is definitely one of the first on what we should choose freely, right?! As a grown—" cringing at your almost sudden outburst, you gulp and pause.

Brushing off your minor slip, he furrowed his eyebrows even further—however, this time, he cups your hands gently upon his calf, and gently strokes the back of your hands. Noticing the sudden change of gesture.. you nervously continue,

"Listen.. we should go to wherever school we want to—and I will always support you in every decision that you make, Ty. I don't know whether I could go to Yale either anyway, heh—"

"Hey, don't be like that, I know you'll get in."

He reassures as he squeezes your hands firmly, seriousness visible in his eyes as he makes the statement. But then, he heaves a big sigh as the weight of a separated future with you weighs heavy on his head, causing it to droop down towards the ground. For you, despite all the uncertain feelings.. one thing is for sure..

"You know, I'm so proud of you, Tyty."

Your words seem to settle heavily in his limbs—because immediately he looks at you, eyes glinting. Holding up a pinkie to him as you offer him an assuring smile, you ask, "Just.. promise we'll still have each other's backs?"

He looks at your pinkie briefly then heaves another big sigh—this one's more of a mixture of relief and gratitude. Darting his apologetic eyes to you again, he whispers, "I'm sorry," before finally circling your pinkie with his own, just to pull you into him, holding you tight. His neverending sweet gesture makes you flinch a little, but then you give in to the familiar scent of him, finding comfort in his embrace. You bury your head on his shoulder as you circle your hands around him—both of you readjust your seating to a more comfortable position.

"Bestfriends?"

Dwelling in his embrace, you sigh and whisper, "Forever." But a smirk creeps in as you tease, "King of Stanford on the way~"

He chuckles, but with a longing expression, he hugs you tighter—like he's unwilling to let go. Believing that this is a good time to address the other tension hanging in the air, he gathers his courage and brings up the heavy issue,

"Em, about our fight.. I'm sorry, okay..? I just wanted to have time with you—I was inconsiderate push it on you—"

"Hey it's fine.. I was having a PMS too that day—so.."

Lies.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he narrows his eyes as he looks upward, then downward, directing his gaze to your head under his chin. "Isn't your.. period supposed to start at the end of the month? I remember when I was preparing for the game on October you—"

Shoot. I forgot—he always remembers.

Eyes darting right and left in panic, you silently thank your lucky stars that he can't see your expression right now. Desperately trying to divert the conversation, you resort to the only move you can think of. Gaslight.

"Ew! Are you a stalker or something?! What if my cycle changes?! Should I tell you everything?!"

Rolling his eyes in weariness, he sneers, "That's not what I meant—come on! We just made up—"

"Are we, though?"

Cynically, you jeer, pulling away slightly to glare at him—taunting him as he dangles his head to the other side, away from yours as you continue, "How can I be bestfriends with someone who has a bully as his girlfriend? Do you even like her?"

You sound demanding, because you need to know. Not because of the bet. Just him. Just need one last reason to be said and you'll leave this one alone. You're tired. You have to focus on yourself this time.

"Well I wouldn't date her if I don't like her, right?"

Sigh, okay then.

"Okay then, I'll leave this to you. I'm not going to say this again—I'm not saying that she's not good for you, okay? I just don't like her as a person."

"Geez, Winny, that's worse!"

"What do you expect, Ty?! Everybody knows she's bad attitude alert! And what she did in front of us—just because she's in a bad mood doesn't do it justice! So don't ever force me to hang out with her ever again," you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Catching your firmness, he surrenders and soothes, "I understand your judgment, and.. yeah I know, that's fair. Okay I won't." Hearing his assurance, you go silent, feeling his chest exhale a big sigh beside you—until eventually, he breaks the silence with a tentative question, "So.. are you forgiving me?"

You take a moment to consider his question, letting out a little cough. However instead of a serious forgiveness, a mischievous grin forms on your lips as you joke,

"Only if you remove the 8th rule."

At first, he looks puzzled, but as realization dawns on him, he pushes you away from his embrace with full force, as if you were an annoying ant crawling around unpredictably on his skin. Scratching your head guiltily, you purse your lips, holding a sheepish big grin, a very stark contrast to his disgusted expression. As if seeking his permission, you clench your knuckles and put them on your seat as you say,

"I think he's cute.."

"BLECH. You have bad taste," he retorts.

Mocking my taste in boys? Oh no he doesn't go there. I know. my taste is good—uh.. yeah—

"BAD. TASTE? Look who's talking."

His face distorts further into something unpleasant, yelling, "Bro?! I'm not dating Eve! At least I stayed true to our rule—not mending here and there, eager to break them!"

"You made that rule!"

"It's too risky, Em! What if you don't make it?! What will my relationship with him be?!"

For a second, you consider his point. Maybe.. he has a point.. But still, you retort, "But so far—I connect with him—you feel me?"

"That's because he's my—we're alike—that's just because we're all friends, Winters!"

"Can't you see I was having—a moment of bliss before you drag me down here?! You want us to win the bet, right?!"

"Listen, I want us to win the bet too, but not you with him—you hate having your hair ruffled, right?! Sike, Em! That's his go-to move! Touching the hair—?!"

You remember seeing Hunt spotting his friend, Niamh—who's been sitting alone on a bench, buried in her iPhone. With a mischievous grin, he sneaked up behind her and ruffled her head, mussing up her carefully styled hair. She let out a startled squeak and whirled around—but as she realized who the culprit was, her glare transformed into a big grin.. before they burst into laughter and made out—

You remember spotting Dominic and his friend, Sarah—who were enjoying a romantic stroll through the park—when he suddenly reached over and ruffled her head, tousling her hair. Sarah's surprised laughter rang out through the peaceful surroundings as she playfully swatted at Dominic, shaking her head in amusement at his antics before making out—

You remember Hunt mingled through the crowd, a mischievous glint in his eye. He spotted his friend, Mia—chatting with a group of people—before deciding to join in the fun. Sneaking up behind her, he ruffled her head, causing her to jump in surprise before turning around with a playful scowl—before they made out—

"BRO! CAN YOU EVEN HANDLE THAT?!"

...

At the realization, you stare into the distance with a pout on your face. But not until you gain a sudden glow as you giggle,

"That's one weakness, I'll try to accept—"

"God. Help me—"

"Seriously, what is with you?! We haven't talked for like—a whole week, and then you just decide to lecture me on which boy for me to date?!"

He throws his head back to the sky as he rests his hands behind him in weariness from your never-ending argument. After pausing for a while, you continue, "Why are you so worked up over it anyway? Why are you making such a big deal out of this?!"

"Em, I know how he is, I've known him all my life. He's a great friend. But when it comes to romances—he's a total jerk, I'm not joking. You're well aware of his rep, right?"

Seemingly contemplating, you quickly revert to your usual denial as you argue, "But he's so gentle with me! He understands me—"

"Fuck the bars are so low, huh—"

"Excuse me—?!"

"That's because he knows how to make you fall to his knees! For fucks sake! Why can't you understand?!"

He yells in frustration, throwing his body forward toward you as he spreads his hands, determined to make you understand from his perspective. Seeing how worked up he is, you take a moment, staring at his unfamiliar frustration you've never seen.

"It's not like—not like I want him to be my boyfriend or something—I'm just curious about him—"

"This is out of the question, Em. We're not removing the 8th rule—"

"Then this conversation's over! I have a pilates session at 4, don't I?"

He stares at you in bewilderment, scoffing in disbelief. Shaking his head, he pauses and then makes a hand gesture towards your house, indicating for you to leave. Taken aback by his cold demeanor, you let out a little gasp. Pouting, you briskly stand from your seat and grab your bag from the ground, walking away from his astounded self.

As you depart, he also jumps from his seat, his overflowing adrenaline of rage take action as he growls in irritation. He snatches up a rock from the ground and hurls it into the lake in rage—causing it to make a big splash! The sound echoes across the water, reverberating in the air. As the ripples spread across the surface, the rock gradually.. but slowly.. sinks to the bottom of the lake.

Just like his relationship with you.

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Cecylia Costania @rcpcswrites

You can elevate your experience by also listening to songs I added to this story's playlist! Full Playlist on bio💖

The song that matches this Chapter's vibe:

https://youtu.be/SDq3_D_LC78