You had this absolutely adorable habit of frowning every time I said something concerning. I would mention, during one of our singing sessions, that I hadn't eaten much all day.
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You would frown, “Why?” you would ask. “I didn't feel like it.”
Your frown would deepen and you would sit up. “I have leftovers from this afternoon.”
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And then I would be forced to eat whatever you had to offer. You would grab my sleeve and begin walking towards the kitchen. Your small steps sure of the direction, despite the only thing you could see being the fuzzy glow of the yellow lamps you had lit around your place.
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That was also something I loved.
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Since the first time I had come, the number of lambs had almost doubled. You hadn't really bothered to get proper lighting since you never needed it. The first time I had come to your place you had asked me to turn the lamp in the corner of the living room. That was big enough to light up at least half of the space there.
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Then you had three the second time I had come over.
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Now there were soft yellow lights, lamps of all sizes arranged around the room.
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I loved how you worried about me. “I don't think I deserve that, you know. Like my assignment wasn’t even all that great. I think that professor felt bad for me or something. There was no way I would have scored so high if it wasn't for that.” I would tell you.
And the frown would return. “Nooo Naia,” the last syllable of the word ‘no’ stretching out. I always found it so heartwarming I would simply agree with you everytime, while grinning like the absolute idiot I am.
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“You do deserve it. I'm sure it was lovely. You are so talented Naia-” and you’d go on a tangent telling me how cool you found me. I would sit there feeling my ears burn with embarrassment. I honestly stopped saying self-deprecating things around you unless I really really was having a hard time because of that. I couldn't quite handle you sincerely telling me how awesome you found me. I feared i would have lost control and confessed to you, perhaps fallen to your feet and pathetically asked you to give me a chance.
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“Youre right, I do. I am cool, silly me for thinking otherwise.” I’d say, then you'd grin too, your eyes crinkling, the stars they carried twinkling. And I would feel as though my heart was bursting. I would wonder is it alright to love someone this much? Is it alright to love this worry and pure sincere care they seem to place in me? Is it really alright?
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Somedays you made me forget everything. You made me forget all about him somedays. You would tell me about your childhood, and I would tell you about the boys. You would laugh at every single joke i made during movies. Honestly I did exaggerate a few of the things I had described during our movie dates. But then you would laugh so hard you would begin smack my arm to shut me up, and let you catch your breath. Your cheeks all flushed, this undeniable content in your features. And I would think to myself, ah, I made her happy today. It would feel as though I had fulfilled my purpose for the day. It would make me forget about everything for a second and I'd share a quiet moment of simply living in peace while you caught your breath.
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Somedays Arlo was the only thing you would talk about. You would tell me of how the three of you, Mia, you and Arlo, played around in the main family house. How you were surprisingly really good at guessing the random objects they got for you, a little game you had made up when you were tiny.
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You would tell me about Arlo standing up for you when the other kids bullied you. You would tell me about how beautiful you thought his voice was. And I would listen. I would listen, ignoring the stains and pools of agony my bleeding chest left at the reminders. Ignoring all the burning of my insides, the twisting of the chords in my troat into tight knots at the reminders of him.
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You would tell me you had loved him much, much more than you thought you had.
And my mind would cry out, same! I loved him so much! I love him so much!
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You would tell me how you regret not reaching out to him earlier. You would cry sometimes, softly sniffling, telling me about all the chances you had ignored. All the times the universe had tried to make the two of you meet but you had turned your back for selfish reasons.
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On those nights I would lean on the walls beside you, or shift a little closer on the sofa. Making our shoulders touch, interlinking our pinky fingers.
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I didn't really have the courage to fall into my urges and simply wrap my arms around you. Squeezing you, trying to pour all the love and affection I had for you into you. To stroke your hair as you laid your head against my chest, to try to seep all your pain into me.
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I'd imagined you would have told me not to do that, to not take your pain.
And I would have said that I was used to it, the pain.
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“I should have never left. I should have turned my back on my grandmother.” you would tell me, your nose all red from the crying, your eyes all puffy and swollen.
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I would grab a new pack of tissues, and help you clear your nose. I would gently swipe a new tissue against your pink cheeks, catching all the pearls your eyes let escape, to will all of your sorrow to dampen the tissues, so you'd feel lighter.
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“Maybe you should have.” I would say to you, “But, I'm sure he would understand. He would know why you had done what you did." After taking a moment to clear my throat, to make sure my words don't sound as strained as they felt against my throat, “He sounds like a great guy.” I would add.
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“He was.” you would sniffle as you tightened your pinky finger in mine.
“Then he would know why you had to do what you did. He would love you all the same. I'm sure he's out there, wherever he is, willing you to believe that. It's not your fault, Ayla. I'm sure he wants you to know that too.”
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Because it's my fault, I would think, my mind screaming into oblivion like a coward, as you softly resumed crying. The sounds of it blooming such an ache in my chest, I had the urge to snap the cage my heart was beating in and gather all the comfort I wished to offer you, and the deep, all consuming love I had for you. Pick out everything I felt but couldn't quite put into words, and offer it to you.
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See, I would tell you, you make me feel all this.You are such an incredible human, I would say as I pushed out my hands, overflowing with all the mushy feelings, towards you. Please don't cry and feel this pain too deeply, allow all these feelings to comfort you, to remind you how incredible you are.
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One night, when I was over at your place and we had been simply sitting on your couch and chatting about our days. Aster had come over and sit on my lap, and I had furiously whispered my excitement to you, which made you laugh so loud he jumped up and walked away. I had groaned and whined about it and you had apologised for scaring him away, as you almost fell off the couch while laughing.
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A week later you had told me you made something for me. My brain had buffered so badly at the words I couldn't even form proper sentences. “Huh?” I had stupidly said. You had giggled, a hint of stiffness entering your usual demeanor.
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I had thought you were incredibly silly that day.
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As if anything you ever gave me wouldn't be passed down through generations of my family as a sacred heirloom, I had thought. As if even the smallest things you say to me, irrelevant of what it is, isn't embedded in my head. As if I don't play the colorful memory of your laughter while trying to sleep. As if I don't use the precious memory of you telling me I'm brave or cool to comfort me when I wake up from the nightmares.
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You had put your hand out, and I had linked my pinky to yours, and you had dragged me to your studio. You had surprised me when you avoided all the walls and odd turns on the way to your studio. Once though you had almost bumped your shoulder against the corner of a turn, I had put my hand between you and the wall, and your shoulder had brushed my hand. A zap of electricity had passed through me, that you didn't seem to notice. But my heart was drumming against its cage, trying to reach you. Trying to love you more than I let it.
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We went all the way to your studio. “It should be on my table, the one in the center.” you had said as we walked in.
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And surely on the center table, right by the large bay window, was a sculpture. A small tiny brown one.
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Of a dog.
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“It looks like Aster.” I had said, squeezing your pinky in mine.
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“It's for you. I know you really like Aster, but for whatever reason Aster is a little mean to you. So while Aster warms up to you, you have a tiny friend to keep you company!”
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You had squeezed my pinky back, bumping your shoulder lightly against mine. Your brows had drawn up, a little worry on your features. “I would have gotten you a real dog, but I didn't know if you were allowed to bring pets into your apartment. And you said you lived with your friends so I thought it would be inconvenient and messy. And I know the sculpture is pretty small, and I wasn't really sure how it looked. But Mia said it looked perfect so, I don't know how I got the confidence to bring it out to you-”
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“Ayla,” I had tightened my finger around your pinky one final time. You had let out a nervous hum, tilting your head towards me.
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“Can I give you a hug?”
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You had smiled so sweetly, tears had welled in my eyes. “Sure you can, music girl.”
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I had gently wrapped my arms around you, making sure not to crowd you. Your arms came up around me and patted my back. And I had melted. Right there in your arms, I had let myself go and leaned my forehead against your shoulder. Your hair was tied up in a messy bun, the few loose strands tickled my face. You felt like the refuge I had been wandering in search for. Your touch had something akin to pardon received by the heavens. I could breathe again, without feeling the guilt scraping into my insides. I had cried a little as I had thought about how much I loved you. The words dancing on the tip of my tongue, waiting to jump out towards you and break this fragile paradise of ours.
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I love you. I love you Ayla. I love you so much. I don't deserve you. I will miss you.
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“Thank you.” I had murmured softly instead. And you had simply patted my back.
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and then Add to home screen.