As much of what was on his mind, Ashkir Devereux would have gray hair by the age of twenty-five and die of a heart attack at thirty-five. People tell him all the time that he bottles up way too much stress. Hell, isn't stress NORMAL for his age? He lived on stress; thrived on it, as much as he hated it…he needed it. It made his life harder; he needed the challenge to get through his day. It forced him to his best by putting off things that bothered him. But, something was bothering him more then usual…his relationship with Nyna.
The previous night with Pierce James he thrived and wish he could just sit there happily and tell Nyna about him and what happened last night, but he just couldn't. Why? She wasn't his friend anymore. She was gone. Ashkir really couldn't explain his lust. All he could do is go visit his sister, Cailey. She'd sit there with him listening. She understood what he was going through. Why? She's the big sister, someone Ashkir loved to torture but yet, and she was there for him, always. Much of a klutz she was.
This was the first time he was really sitting there, on the ground, actually anywhere thinking of his problems. Maybe he shouldn't sign up for a sixth class, he was already holding down a job at a tea parlor, he didn't have much free time anymore. He was just lucky there was no classes this Saturday. Gorram, why couldn't he have an idea of what to do? He just threw an expensive broom to the side. The broom wasn't the top of the line, but it was better then most had. He got it as a gift a while ago from one of his cousins…Patrick to be exact.
All of a sudden the broom jerked a memory in his head. He offered it to Nyna to pay her back but she wouldn't accept it. He kept it. He rarely rode it though, as flying and Ashkir? They couldn't be trusted to deliver an unbreakable piece of tupperware. Kicking his feet, Ashkir groaned in frustration. Oh, the angst! How much he missed his best friend. He never realized how painful it will be, he just felt like he lost a part of himself. It was something he would never want to or wish to experience again, he would rather die next time.
His left hand slapped into his hair, messing it up even more so then it was. He couldn't stand not touching his hair for a long period of time when he was in a slightly odd mood or more. Heh, it was him. He didn't give a gorram what other people thought about it. So what? If he wanted to mess up his hair by the gorram right he would. Finally his mind went off to another topic just even if it was for a few split seconds, but as said, it wouldn't last long. He snapped back on thinking about Nyna. He wouldn't get over it so easily.
Hey, he heard a familiar voice. Cocking his head toward the direction it came from, he saw Nyna. He didn't care. He moved his head back in front of him, looking downward toward his feet. After a few seconds he jumped up to his feet, he slid his left hand into his coat pocket. He walked over to his broom, "Up," he spoke catching it in his right hand, then turning toward Nyna.
His left hand came out of his coat pocket, with a bracelet Nyna made for him years ago. The bracelet snapped in half now, he wore it for years. He clutched it in his left hand walking by Nyna and dropping it into the grass. Placing the two pieces together the inscription still could be read, 'My best friend Ashkir, love Nyna'. He could've cared less now. Hitting her with his right shoulder on purpose he walked past her. He was done.
As much as he wished to see her again, he didn't care. It was too painful for him to face her.