T W O

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[burning questions]

•

8th October 2019

Today, I watched Descendants of the sun. I don't know why I just wrote that, but I just wanted you to know.

Do you know what's it about? It's about two different people, disparate jobs, and contrasting personalities- one as bright as afternoon noon and other as dark as frenzied shadows of clouding moonlight.

Yet, they managed to bridge the barrier with a little comprise.

But what shook me was how thin the line of compromise was. You know it was like the rubber band stretched to it's capacity- slightest movement and it snaps.

Boom! It's broken just like our relationship. Of course, you can mend, but then there are things which become stronger when fixed; and then there are things that are never the same after being joined again.

Why do relationships come under the second part? Just like rubber bands, no matter how many times you try to fix it, there are always knots which hurt.

What if that was what happened between us?

Love is so dangerous. Our entire decisions are weighed on other's person's happiness. Or what he or she will think. But really is it worth it? Is that much pain worth for just a month or two of happiness.

Is that much amount of self-guilt, hurt, anxiety, making wrong choices, putting friends on hold, and fighting your family for one person- just one, one person worth it?

For someone who has fallen for you thrice by now, will definitely say no. That all this pain and hurt isn't worth it. All this waiting, all that knots in my chest, all that questions are not worth it. But a tiny part of me wants to experience that happiness. All I got was a pain, so I should get happiness. Right?

Then why didn't I? Why?

Don't I deserve happiness? Peace?

I am starting to wonder if I do? If I ever did. And I ever will.

Especially what happened today.

I tried. I swear I tried so hard not to fall for you the second time. But I did anyways. All you had to do was smile, wave and have one minute conversation, and voila! my heart is yours.

•

But I will get over it, I know.

This sudden optimism scares me too. But my friend texted me (unknowingly) that they are things in life that are worth waking up for. Well, she was watching a reel (sue me, but they are really pointless) and this guy dances and says that : what is one more time? Even though it is not related to context, but I suddenly have this urge to follow this advice. Call me crazy, but we can inspiration from anywhere. Even a badly made reel.

If I could do it the first time, then maybe it might work second time too?

I guess, sometimes it hurts. Badly. We all are bruised over from all that scars; maybe others cannot see it, but they make us stronger. You know, for some reason I am optimistic. I don't know, I cannot predict future, but I don't want to grow up and hate myself for not even trying. (I am just high, I guess?)

My school is going well, I have good friend, I am blessed with nice family, then why not try moving on again?

What it one more time?

•

Her eyes glint with determination. Her lips are drawn in straight line, her cheeks are a little puffy, but she knows she will be okay. She still has three years before she leaves this place, and she thinks it is more than enough to get over someone and enjoy life.

•

"Sid," She calls out, rubbing her hands against her warm parka. Siddharth looks at her, a small smile playing on his lips. His black curls fall on his brown forehead—reaching the tips of his eyebrows; a small lock shining against the sparkling sun. 

She gulps. Wrong, wrong, wrong, her mind whispers. It wrong to love your best friend, it screams. She swallows her thoughts, her heart beating wildly seeing him like this. So beautiful, she thinks, a shiver running down her spine. He snaps his fingers in front of her face, "What?"

They both are sitting on the terrace (their favorite spot), leaning against the grimy rugged walls. "I want to have an ice-cream." She mumbles, not thinking her words through. He laughs, tugging his jacket closer to his body. "You want to have ice-cream in middle of fucking winter," he smirks, edging closer to her. 

She gulps at their proximity. They have done this thousands of time already, why does it feel different this time? His head drops on her shoulders, both of them looking at vast cloudless blue sky. Her heart threatens to burst out of her chest, it beats so loudly. She hates that she likes it. Like how he makes her smile, how he knows everything about it, because after all they are best friends. Best friends, her mind urges her, nothing more. 

"Yes, I want to have ice-cream," She says lightly. 

"I don't." He whines, his breath dissolving with cold winds that draped them. 

"But why," She whines.

"I hate catching cold." 

"Shut up. You like being sick so that you can skip school." 

"And watch cartoons." 

"Yeah, watching cartoons and drinking soup." 

She laughs, forgetting her troubled thoughts for sometime. A small, wholesome pause wraps them. "Sid, do you remember last winter? You fell sick and skipped exams?"

"I do," He grins, "You were so mad. You had to give exams, complete both of our notes, I stayed home, coughing and watching T.V."

"Well, I still am mad," Amara says, looking anything but mad, "I told you not to eat all seven scoops of ice-creams, yet you did."

"Chill," He gnaws, playing with loose thread of her sweater, "My whole purpose of being at the wedding was to try all seven flavors of ice-cream." 

"Please," She counters, "You threatened your mom that you would jump of the building if she takes you to the wedding,"

"I didn't," he laments, "I didn't." 

She saying something else, and he keeps on denying it. They keep bickering, wrapped in their own world. Eventually the topic changes, and then a silence falls over. They both watch the sunset, each having their troubled thoughts and heavy hearts—for totally different reasons. Watching the last rays of sun disappear, Amara wishes that her feelings for her best friends dissolve into nothing.

•

a/n: note the dates. they are different in each chapter and vary over years.