A/N: It's a bit of a sad story, but hopefully a thoughtful one that could give insight about love or move you in some way. Reviews will be greatly appreciated of course.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
She noticed him first.
He was two years her senior, a Philosophy major. He was in his fifth year in the university—extended his stay for a year because he shifted courses too late and had to get extra units.
Maybe it was in his search of a place to belong to—left alone by his batch mates who have already graduated the year before—that he decided to join the organization she was in; maybe it wasn't. Whatever his reasons were, she did not know.
At the time, she didn't care much. He was just a new person she met. His place and influence in her life, not yet determined.
Tom Riddle, he said his name was. She didn't intend to, and she didn't know why she did, but out of all the new members who joined that year, she remembered him.
…
She approached him first.
He was alone. Older, but a fresh member in the organization that she loves. Since she was known to be the approachable one in the group, she saw it as her duty to make this new member feel at home. To take him under her wing, no big deal.
With a pounding heart, she walked up to him and matched his pace. They walked together for a while, without a set direction, as she asked him to share stories about himself. She thought it was going to be awkward, but soon they started to talk about anything, and everything. Their conversation as directionless as their path.
Without her notice, as sudden as the encounter, and as subtle as its development, that day have allowed for the strings from her heart to be pulled. That day allowed her to really see him. As she got to observe him, she saw the depth in his eyes, became curious to learn the secrets it wanted to keep, and longed to listen to the wisdom he wanted to share.
So she lets him, slowly, open up to her.
…
She was fascinated by him.
It could have been his choice of words, the way he looks at the world, or the way his eyes light up when he smiled. He was a mystery to her. Full of confidence about his philosophy, yet so shy to share too much of himself.
In her eyes, he was ever-changing; his today, never the same as his yesterday.
It was a challenge for her, to get to know him every day, only to expect something very different the next day. She wanted to continuously get to know him; misses him terribly when they were apart, misses him still when they were together.
It was a whole new experience for her.
…
She confessed to him first.
Not really a believer of long-term relationships, she didn't mind telling him her feelings. It's okay, she told herself, she didn't want anything to change. Their friendship was enough. Telling him she liked him was merely her way to let him know that someone appreciates him, and likes him, and is happily cheering him on.
Or apparently, it was all just an excuse for her to not get too disappointed at what he might say.
It was the safe route. The most plausible one.
So when he said he wanted to take her to a date, she blamed herself for not being prepared for that small percentage of probability.
She should have thought of a contingency plan and not agreed to quickly.
…
She said "I love you," first.
They have been dating for a few months when she said it. For all she knew, she didn't understand love all that well, and what it really meant. Before she met him, love was associated with her family, with her friends, and with her advocacy—the three most obvious ones.
She knew he was different; didn't understand how it was possible for one person to be placed both within and beyond those three categories. The only thing she understood was there he was, the guy she liked, not for any reason other than he is who he is. She likes him just because he is who he is. And she wanted to let him know he was the person she wanted to protect, to make happy, and to understand.
Maybe she was going too fast. Maybe it was too soon for him. Maybe she didn't understand.
Looking back, she should have known what it meant when he didn't respond.
…
He was her first kiss.
It was near his graduation then. He had started applying for different schools, preparing for life after university. Toes almost dipping in the infamous 'real life', but not quite.
They drove around the city, talked about random stuff, defended their own worldviews, and let the other catch up on what the other was up to—at least those they haven't shared before. It felt like they were racing against time. Soon, he'll start working, and she will be left in school; the threat of their schedules not matching, largely expected.
After driving for a while, they stopped near a river. Under the starless night sky of the city, inside the airconditioned car they were too lazy to step out off, and the garbage-ridden river as their witness, their line of conversation started to shift, and they suddenly began to paint a picture of their future together.
He said he wanted a girl; warned her that he was too hotheaded to handle a boy. They were both going to follow their passion and be teachers. They were going to start their family in a small home, raise their kids with a simple lifestyle, and lead a happy life.
She hugged him. Partly because she was happy to be having this conversation with him, and partly because she was afraid it wasn't real. Too soon for her, but not unwelcome, he pushed back from the hug, looked at her for permission, and caught her lips with his.
…
He was her first true heartbreak.
It was a slow burn. He had started working, not as a teacher as he had hoped, but as a manager in his family's business. She just started her fourth and last year in the university—pressure and high expectations burdening her. Misunderstandings due to lack of communication, on top of unresolved issues, sprinkled with totally different personalities, the relationship had come to a halt. He stopped replying to her messages, blocked her number, and disappeared.
After a year of no contact, he asks her to meet up with him. She goes out to meet him; grateful that he reached out, and hopeful for a reconciliation, for answers, and just… to see him again.
So they met. His answers came in a barrage of statements she didn't want to process, "I never loved you," was what he said first. "I was alone and bored, and you were there," was next. "So, I played with you for a bit, and now I'm done," was the last.
Her mouth agape, unbelieving, the only thing that she allowed to cross her mind was, Which movie did he watch to get these lines?
It was surreal, like talking to a totally different person, and she stood there across from him, speechless. He must be lying. He should be. The world was still spinning around her when he said, "Don't try to be clingy and contact me. Don't even try," and with one long look at her as if saying I mean it, he left.
Up to that point, she had been betrayed, have faced a lot of failures, and have lost some of her friends. But in any of those times, she never did intricately feel the breaking of her heart. Any attempt to put the pain into words, will always be an understatement.
But, if she must try, she will describe it as something similar to a person sucker punching your chest in one fierce blow, so strong to break skin and bones, penetrate the muscle, finally reach your heart, and squeeze, and pull, and tear.
She hoped she wouldn't be put in that situation ever again. She prayed that no one be put in a situation like that ever. But back then, she just wanted for the pain to stop.
So she cried her heart dry.
…
Hermione still loves him.
She believes, once you start loving a person, there will neither be a stop nor a pause. As long as you live, you will carry on loving and caring for that person no matter how far apart your distance becomes. Unloving a person is not as possible as removing the label of a relationship.
That's why moving on from him hasn't ended in that one day she decided to forgive him. It has, is, and will still be a process she needs to go through every day—the acceptance that she will never understand him, nor will she ever know the answers to her unasked questions.
She doubted if she truly meant it when she said she loved him. Learning from that experience, she thinks she did; made sure she did her best to love him the only way her inexperienced heart knew how.
Continuing to appreciate him, cheer him on, and accept him is difficult. However, even after everything, it's something she will never be able to stop herself from doing. It's her responsibility as a person who loves, and her burden as someone who have failed to make it grow.
-END-