4. Unrequited
Tomorrow she'll smile like everything's alright and laugh like it doesn't hurt. Her heart will beat like it's not broken. And she'll live like she's not dying. But right now she won't pretend.
Rated: T - Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1,000 - Published: 5-21-11 - Mara J.
I don't own House of Anubis or any of the characters.
Unrequited
Your nose stung as thoughts run through your head. You try to see your paper but tears blur your view. As you shut your eyes, all you see is his face like an afterimage from staring at the light for too long. The light was the possibility— no, but the intangible dream of having him. Blind to reality just in time for it to hit you. Stop. You clear your mind because thinking hurts. Reliving it in your head won't do you any good. Empty your mind... Because the volume of the cylinder is 296 ml, and the top is 8 m in diameter, so the radius is 4. Square that and multiply to pi. 296 over the product, and he was smiling his smile at you when you panicked that your stapler was not there, so he held your hand and told you to relax, but his hand on yours make your heart beat so fast and stop.
You try to not think only to leave more space for him to crawl back in, so you stop resisting. Instead, you just let the memories flow through and try not dwell on anything. But his smiling face fills you and that gash in your heart throbs a little harder. The pain is so overwhelming that you don't even notice your hand grip your pencil so tightly it breaks. The pointed edges dig into your palm as you watch it all in your head. In replay and in repeat. All your short encounters teasing you as you stared the boulder in the eye as it dangled threatheningly above your heart, waiting to strike. In hindsight, you saw it coming. It always came without warning. Actually, there were a million warnings you ignored. You always knew how totally improbable it was but you pretended not to, hoping it were true. But why the hell would he want you? You're a nerd, unknown. He's… at the top. You look down at your hands and you release the pencil that resembles your heart. You stare at your splintered palm as it bleeds. You can't reach him. He doesn't even see you.
You drop your broken, bloody pencil and give up on homework. You can't do anything in this... state. So you walk over to the mirror. You see a girl- a stupid girl- her black curls messy, spilling from the ponytail that tries to hold it. Her nose is red and puffy, same with her eyes. The sight surprised and scared you. You don't even see yourself in her anymore- in this heartbroken girl. If you didn't know, you wouldn't have recognized who she was. "You stupid, stupid, stupid..."
Your eyes drift to the photo of her and him, hugging and smiling and it shreds the remnants of your already shattered heart. You see them laugh and stare at each other's eyes full of love and adoration, happy in their little world. They slowly lean in for a kiss and you watch, just watch from afar like always. But she changes. Her blonde hair turn darker and her pale skin become tanner. Her eyes are your eyes and her lips- oh those lips that kiss him are yours. You see you. You're kissing him lovingly and contently. You watch enviously as the ifs dance in front of you. All too soon, you part and he stares deeply into your eyes and you wonder what he sees, but realization hits him: you're not his boo. He pulls away awkwardly as you try to cling to him. He walks out of view leaving you heartbroken and sad and depressed and looking exactly like the girl in the mirror. You turn your attention to her, but when you look back to the picture, it's frozen again with her and him hugging and smiling and happy.
You scorn the girl you see, and you can't bare the sight of her anymore. You throw yourself on your bed in defeat. You watch the flecks of dust in the air as they spin and twirl above you. Oh, how lucky they are. They don't have hearts to be broken. They don't have feelings to be hurt. You wish you were one of them. Just a tiny, insignificant fleck of dust floating in the air freely. Void of sadness, of insecurity, of desperation, of goals, of dreams, of happiness... of living. Just a tiny, insignificant fleck of dust. But the pain in your heart calls for your attention again not wanting to be ignored. Your breathing picks up a pace as sobs rise to your chest. Your hands hold a tight fist and your nails runs through your wounded palm but you don't care. The pain is minute to your dying heart. And it brings fresh tears to your eyes.
They fall but you let them. You let yourself cry tonight. You let yourself hurt and be miserable. You grab the music player from your nightstand and play the darkest and saddest songs you have. You turn up the volume until your ears hurt. The fast beat of the drums drown the beat of your enduring heart. You can't hear your thoughts through the blaring guitar. You won't even notice when she came in the room and asked if you were okay. You'll deal with her next time, but you'll cut her some slack because it's not really her fault. She doesn't really realize she's breaking your heart. He doesn't even realize he's breaking your heart. You dread when the morning would come and you'd have to face them at breakfast. Tomorrow you'll smile like everything's alright and laugh like it doesn't hurt. Your heart will beat like it's not broken. You'll live like you're not dying. But right now you won't pretend.