Tadadadaa... And another story that has took forever for me to finish, but I did it at last :D There was a song that inspired me to do this that told about needing some time to just think about the past and your friends and all the great memories from your childhood. And everyone should just make the best of it, you're a kid only once, only once you can go around doing whatever want to and you'll be forgiven. And you should never stop playing with dolls or whatever, before you really stop enjoying it x) I remember doing that and I think I regretted it a bit. Oh well, I know I won't be playing with dolls anymore, but I think I'm still allowed to mess around a little bit ;D
Hmmh, I don't remember my critism on this story. I appear to forget it a lot, I wonder why x) Well, I know Near is not well with staying on the subject, but don't we love random rants? To end this nicely, neither Matt or Near belongs to me.
It was a warm summer evening. The sky had a shade of red, mirroring the color of your hair, though of course your red takes the win. Except your hair is not actually red, but reddish brown and you actually steal the red from the sun. If it could, the sun would probably be pissed for stealing its glory. Just a thought. You sit on the edge of a wooden platform, your back towards me. I don't want to be so close, to so deep water so I stand further away on the strand. It really is light, even though the day is late in the evening, but it always is in the summer. When did it turn to summer anyway? Not too long ago it was still probably a meter of snow outside and I was completing my puzzle inside, like always.
You turn around to face me, squinting in the light. You look serious, almost mad, and I'm not sure why. You had dragged me out here, only blandly asking me to follow you and then already going before I could response. Well you know that that works, if I won't say no I will come, and if I can't say no it drives the same thing. But I can't say I noticed you were mad, though you probably still were. Anyhow, madness, the kind where you're angry, is only temporary. If you don't solve the problem, it goes past with time. It does not really matter, it isn't necessary to solve it. So I just return you a blank look, caring more about my own concerns, being ´´I don't want to drown, which I probably will this close to the water.´ You know how I run, I'm not afraid, I just don't want to die in any way particular.
"Come over here."
You say sounding rather arrogant and I answer you equally with incredulity.
"Dream on."
You snort and now I know you're angry with me. You look at me that way, you can't understand. Anger is always connected to not understanding. I've done something or left something undone and you can't see why. If you did, you would understand and you wouldn't be angry. Well, if it helps, I don't understand this quite myself either. I know I haven't done anything wrong, for I have done nothing unique for months now, and if I have left something undone, I'm pretty sure it is not my fault. I have done what I am to do and I have not been asked to do more. You've been getting my attention when you've wanted it and yet you haven't said a word of it. What do you want from me? I've got nothing to give you that matter, I'm just a child. I'll tell you when I'm not, I'll tell you when things start to matter.
I suppose you and I are friends then, since I listen to you and I talk to you and I'm pretty sure you do the same. Since when and how, I don't know, things just sort of happen around here. That's why I said things don't matter yet, hey happen out of nowhere without a reason and they go by the same way. That's how it goes when you're a child and it doesn't affect on anything. So why does it matter what happens? Are you going to be my friend the next time I check? You take a couple of steps in my way and cast your head to the sky. I wouldn't be much surprised if you just got up and flew away by the way that your standing so solid. Then you let out a yell and I know I look like I think you're going crazy. I'm not saying you are though, I just wish you'd be quiet. You were angry before, now you're just furious an you're staring at me wildly.
"Scream."
You command and I must say, without that look, I would have sworn you were joking. You know me, I don't randomly do pointless raisings of voice. Now what are you gaming at? Whatever it is, I have a simple answer ready for these kinds of situations.
"No."
You don't quite react to this, you just keep glaring at me with a very possible killer intent and command me again with no more less force. You get kicks from this, don't you, you sadist? What's with this new need to control people? Seriously though, I know you too and that's not why you're doing this. But why do you want me to scream? I'm not angry and I'm even less frustrated. To be precise, you are, which would prove that this is not about my needs, but yours. Which leads us back to you being a sadist. Why are you doing this to me, why are you angry? Time doesn't count if I drown before your anger falters.
I shake my head and refuse, wondering if I should just go back inside, as this is obviously not going anywhere. The sun will set eventually and it'll get dark, and even though I don't mind it, the people back will. I glance behind me to display my intentions, but I return my gaze as I see you from the corner of my eye, approaching me rather threateningly. You stop right in front of me, looking very much downwards at me, quite obviously on purpose. I know you're angry, but would you hurt me? I know you wouldn't, never, but I don't know if you are you right now. Still, no matter what, I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid to look straight back at you.
"Scream – now."
Right now I'd like to smack you on the back of your head and tell you that you spend too much time with those brute games of yours and you should do something productive on your spare time. Sadly, you'd probably only hit me back and that would just be ridiculous, so I can't. I sigh, but when I speak, I know I sound nothing but firm.
"No. And look, I'm going back inside. This conversation is completely pointless."
I know the word ´´conversation´´ came out like a mock and maybe that's what it was supposed to sound like. But only a little bit. I see anger flash trough your eyes and I hardly believe it's because of my taunt. Though neither it is because of my once again refusal to your polite suggestion, since in that case, you would have had that flash before the end of my speech. Unless you were a bit slow, which I'm certain you're not. The next thing you do kind of tears me apart from my thoughts. With that ´´getting on my nerves´´ -order, you roughly push me.
I stumble backwards a little bit, your force against my weight taking the win by far, but manage to keep my balance. I can't say I'm surprised, after all I had considered this kind of option not too long ago, but I'd use the word ´´disturbed´´. And perhaps slightly ´´angry´´. What are you doing, I trusted you wouldn't hurt me. Technically I'm not hurt, but you pushed me with intentions clearly to hurt me. It doesn't matter if you succeeded or not, it's the thought that counts. I said that not understanding is always a part of anger, or more like annoyance in my case, and it is. Though I also said that I'm not surprised, which kind of fights back against my words, because by the means of logic, I should be.
But there's something I only mentioned in passing: I was already confused by this, so I won't be surprised if I keep on being that. Confused by ´´who are you and what did you do to my friend´´. Because friends surely don't hurt each other, even I know that. Unless they really deserve it. I have no idea why I would have. Though you only shoved me, I probably wouldn't have been disabled even if you had succeeded. So I won't even require the need of forgiveness from myself, since once again, it doesn't matter. Children push one another constantly. What makes you different is that you're no little child who doesn't seize to think about what he or she is doing. You know it'll affect me. You know unraveling your anger to other people is wrong.
Right now I'd tell you to think before you act, but the problem is, I think you did. The real why I have the need to be angry. That, and you seem more angry at me for keeping my balance and not getting hurt. I study your facial creatures, half questioningly, trying to find any hints, half accusingly, hurt. As if it were an answer, you raise your voice and advance me quickly, so I wouldn't have the time to react, though I wouldn't have reacted either way.
"I thought I told you to scream!"
If I didn't have to explain my religion and whether it made any sense to say that afterwards, I'd now say ´´for Christ's sake´´, since tadaa – you've just pushed me again. And before the end of this sentence, you've done it again. Again and again. For crying out loud, stop! And stop repeating that, I'm not doing it! Stop, stop, stop…
"Why?"
Is how I get my voice through. Your answer is now purely angry, out of superiority – almost desperate, and it appears as if it should explain everything, but fix nothing.
"Because!"
Tops, you give me the roughest push yet and before it actually happens, I know this time, I won't be able to retain my balance.
People have said that chess would be my game. Not only that you play it on a black and white checkered board with little figurines, but the winning of the game bases solely, minus pressure, hastiness and other humanly mistakes, on how many different moves you can come up with and figuring what moves can your opponent then make, and so on and so on. They say think fast and I do. I'm not being self-centered or arrogant if I say I can quickly find a number of options lined up in front of my face. But finding them is not essential. The quick part is tough. I can go through these options fast and in situations like this I have my time to think. Think and get a hold of the situation.
Unfortunately, nothing comes. I feel paralyzed. Time goes by and I can't think of anything to think about at all. Eventually I abandon the current situation, just to succeed at thinking before the time is up, and my mind wanders off to random things I remember, from way back to this moment, all about you. Wait. You know what? I just realized something. I think I…
At the second I feel the ground beneath me I'm thoroughly filled with anger. I try to glare at you, but instead my eyes meet your back again as you've returned by the water, watching who knows what now. I don't even know if I'm physically hurt. I pull myself standing, my eyes leaving you for no second longer. But you didn't care about that so why should I? I open my mouth and from the top of my lungs – I scream. Much higher than you though. You turn around to look at me and I can shortly see the surprise in your eyes as I rush over to you and shove you as hard as I can manage. I know I'm still hurt.
Quite conveniently, you fall under the water after you've rather unsuccessfully tried to keep your balance by taking a step back. The water isn't deep though and soon your head and the tips of your shoulders are on the surface again. I keep shooting daggers down at you, even though it appears you have completely lost your own anger and appear now somewhat pleading and in a melancholic way desperate. If something, it frustrates me even more.
"Near-newsflash: I currently hates you!"
I say not exactly shouting, but due to the tone of my voice, I know it sounds like it.
"I-love-you!"
What? Was that an answer? I tell you I hate you – you tell me you love me. That's logic, mate. Your voice matches the look you still carry and I can't help but notice that it didn't sound like a declaration of love, but reasoning. As if the fact that you loved me was a side thing. I fit the pieces together from what you said earlier and now I know why you did it: ´´because I love you´´. Still, I have no choice but to frown at this new information. Why do you have to love me when I'm hating you? At this point, it's good to inform that I have no reason to doubt you. If you say you love me, I believe you do. But I still didn't expect it.
And don't get stuck to that, no, I haven't forgotten that you pushed me. Technically you can't hurt the one you love, without a good reason, but in practice – you can. Or is it the other way around? You can, but you won't or you can't, but you will. Neither makes perfect sense. But it isn't fundamental whether I believe it or not. Because this was about the reason why you did what you did. And a good reason I'm expecting for, by all of its means – I need it to be good to forgive you, but I also expect I to be good. As I look at you now, your eyes for me to see, for a change. I notice the look of longing, which you're quite professionally covering up. And I wonder whether your words had a double meaning after all.
As if afraid of getting turned down, you present it like you weren't even hoping for an approval, not to mention a response, and maybe, just maybe you don't even want anything like that to do with me. But that look was like that in a board game that changed all the matters the opposite. Except one player isn't supposed to know it and the other's game was upside down to start with, so it's truly a terrible metaphor. If I were meticulous of course, because that's not what the metaphor is about. But I can't say anything to that, I cannot answer you. So I say the first thing that comes in mind.
"What?
It really was the first thought I had. You press your hand against your forehead and tilt your head side-downwards. You slide that hand over your left and then your right eye, rubbing them clear. It's like you were crying, though I can't tell for sure, since your face is already wet from the immersion. You move your eyes to face me again as you start talking.
"You're wasting your childhood. You're letting it slip by. And not just letting, you're bidding it. You're forcing it over and… You're making me hurt… Do you even know what you're missing?"
You don't really want to hear the answer to that. I tilt my head lazily, making sure you notice the skepticism in me – and that this isn't a proper reason for what you did. Would it be too harsh to say I don't believe in childhood? That's the part where you grow up. Your thoughts, opinions and words make no sense at all. At the time they do, of course, but later you want to laugh, cry or both if you remember them. Your opinions and your opinions on your opinions change again and again. That's childhood for you: growing. And before you grow up, you don't make any sense. You don't do anything that has sense. So it's better you did nothing until you actually do make sense. Makes sense, doesn't it? I believe so.
Though I'm still underage. How do I know if this makes any sense? If not, I'm a child, I believe in senseless things. Why does everything have to make sense anyway? Why can't I just do what I want to, regardless whether it makes sense or not? That sounds like something you would say. Though those are my thoughts. My great discoveries, in which I don't even know if I believe. Well you're the one who planted those thoughts. Do you believe in them? Is that what you wanted me to realize?
Though, back on the subject, let me question your logic which tells you that screaming to me and pushing me around helps to fix this current situation. I mean, what did we achieve by that? My attention? I listen to you all the time and if there just happened to be a time it appeared as if I didn't, you had that ``I love you´´ -card, which you didn't hesitate to use afterwards. To prove how serious this was? How I ´´can't´´, won't go random at… well, random times? Could be. Or were you just trying to make me show more aggressive emotion, since I'm aware I don't often. But that's selfish. That's only for you, not for me. Or for you, making sure that I'll be okay. Is that selfish?
You know, I'm probably not focusing on the important when I say this, but I don't think this had anything to do with your confession of love. Sure, that may qualify as a reason for you to suffer when I do, note to self: not suffering, but you could suffer for a friend too. Since I already concluded we are ones and I'm fairly sure you've discovered the same by the way you're dragging me along all over the place.
Now that we're on the subject, we'll forget that we're on it because of my awkward transition, yes: I'm not even considering it's platonic love you're talking about, and no: I don't think you believe I would ever turn you down because you're a male. First of all, I saw that look upon your face and hear your tone of voice, and second, I don't have a low self-esteem, I know anyone can be loved. No need to question your reasons either, you hardly ever fall in love with someone for something in particular and how – that's as random. So there's no reasonable argument in that section.
And then about you being gay, -ish at the least. I don't know if you picked me because I have the equipment girls don't, but I highly doubt that. I have this great feeling that our environment raised us all at least partly bisexual. I don't think there's anyone here who would shy down in a relationship with a representative of the same sex if they had ´´the spark´´ towards that person. It's whole new different issue whether they ever have it or not. We were taught people like different things: some like chocolate and some like licorice, some like comedy and some like dram. Some like both.
Who can admit choosing these things? It's all in us, it's because of something, but why would we want to change them? What's truly wrong with liking licorice? Why can't we like what originally felt nice? But I've heard I was actually right about it being our rearing, which I find rather strange. What genius came up with not liking the same as he or she is wrong, with no other grounds? Though I'm not here to save the world hunger, I'll do what I like, and I'd really like to bring justice to these ignorant people, because I can. But that's not current. Right now I don't do likes. But that's what you want to change, right? You'd like to save me. Make me like this now, make me not lose this.
I sigh, strained and slip smoothly into the water with you. You look at me confusedly, but you're not questioning my actions. Meaning you know I understood and you know that that's the only explanation you'd get by asking. Oh, but you'll get another one off-charge. I take a few pulls to you and as I get to my target, I wrap my arms around your neck as if trying to escape drowning, and truthfully, you do keep higher than I normally would be. I hear it clearly as you whisper my name like you loved me and I think… you really do. And before I fell to the ground, I think I managed to figure something out. Now as I've thought this through, I can finally let myself comprehend it. I think… I place my lips gently over yours, putting a halt to your gasp, kissing you softly.
…
… I love you.
-
The children were now running out in a big mass, actually creating a small chaos. Someone was yelling on about a game of football over all the other voices. When the biggest crowd of football lovers had gotten out, the rest could move with much less fear. Some of the remains headed towards the field too, but not each one of them was going to play or watch the game. Not nearly everyone even liked the game. And then there were some who chose to stay inside on this beautiful, sunny afternoon.
Near was completing another puzzle, the bluish one again that had this cat-like figure in the middle of, turning it over every time he finished and then starting it again. He hadn't paid attention to the just-occurred storm inside the House, not even flinching as someone stumbled over hid puzzle and apologized to "Mr. First, sir". Linda stopped by the front door, halting her journey outside to steal a glance at Near, like she usually did when he was in the lobby and she was going out. And like usually, she let go of the door frame and took a couple of steps towards prodigy, to make sure she was getting her voice through. Then she called over to the boy.
"Hey Near, you want to come play outside with us?" voice soft as always and as lively as ever.
Near raised his head and looked at the girl, his face not showing much emotion. But Linda smiled warmly at him and he got up from his seat. He swept his pants as if there were any dust on them and began plodding towards her. This didn't seem to surprise Linda at all.
"Sure," Near voiced his acceptance to the request along with a curt nod of his head.
Linda took Near's hand into her own, heads turning at their direction, as Near had never said yes until then. Near submissively followed, but his gaze had stayed back in the lobby, his face showing perplexity, which was actually quite a lot of feeling for him to show, to add so freely. But as he did not find what he was looking for he just stuck with what was more current. He could not see it, but from an upstairs-window, a young red-headed boy with goggles on over his eyes was carefully following his way across the yard. Matt smiled.