The Truth Untold

He was 15 when I first saw him; taking the stairs by two in a rush for something I was unaware of. Would you think me a fool if I say it was love at first sight? However, before you divulge into making judgments of your own, allow me to tell you the full story. What story might this be, you wonder. Well, dear reader, this is the greatest love story I have ever lived and never came back from.

The beginning of my high school days in 2011 was symbolical. It meant a fresh start for one simple reason. People had no idea who I was. Seeing this as a window of opportunity, I built an image, a reputation some might say, based on whatever I wanted it to be; freedom I was not graced with when I was younger. Around me, a crowd of people aged from 11 to 18 dangled about. This school ground during recreational breaks was a vast ocean of networking (or as a teenager, I would say 'becoming friends forever'). As fun as it sounded, I would sooner understand that every single thing in life was ephemeral. A bittersweet lesson that I learned from him.

I called him Romeo.

Romeo was everything that I wanted; tall, crooked smile, mysterious, a knack for danger and yet, blessed with such an innocent face that even if he were to be holding the bloody heart of someone he just eviscerated, he would get away with it. This boy, barely of age to be called a man, had an unhealthy hold of my mind since the day he spared me a glance. One might just say that I was obsessed with.

Fate had a funny way of showing that it could easily gamble with my life without me suspecting anything. Barely two months in school, I was part of a 'clique'; a group of girls who themselves had their own way of attracting trouble. Remember the first line of this entry? The day that I saw him taking the stairs two at a time was also the day I confessed to one of my girlfriends that I had a 'crush' on him. I would have never predicted the words that came out of her mouth next. "That's my cousin!"

Well, shit.

It did not take much to fall head over heels in love with Romeo. All he had to do was simply stand there as his perfect self smiled his perfect smile with a mischievous glint in his eyes. His cousin alias my also best girlfriend, promised that very day I confessed of my feelings that she would not utter a word in his direction about this new development. Betrayal tasted so sweet. By the next day, I came to school only to have him standing in front of my class graciously waiting to catch me in his trap. And catch me, he did.

I stood there rooted in my spot, unable to move, for more seconds that I should. Embarrassed and ashamed, I pretended that I was okay. Held my head high, like a snob I must add, and walked straight through the door and inside the class. If looks could kill, my best friend would have had been frozen over by the time my eyes looked at anything except her. However, until this day, I do not believe that I could rightfully blame her for what she did. As the story goes, every Romeo and Juliet had a Mercutio and she was ours.

Eleven years old me was an insensitive bitch, simply put, and had no regard for how Romeo felt. From the times that both he and I walked alongside, I called him many names. Liar. Manipulative. Player. Yet he proved to be something I never thought him capable of; patient. Although, if one were to ask me now about which house I believe he would be sorted in if we were to be at Hogwarts, then he would definitely be the Draco Malfoy to my Hermione Granger.

That put aside, Romeo always took his time with me. He never rushed and never made me feel hurried. He waited and while waiting, still persisted. He was the balance which was almost too perfect for my pessimistic eleven years old to just accept without causing any ruckus. And ruckus, I caused.

Every single day, I seized any slight opening to fight with him, to push him, to see how far he could go until he couldn't take it anymore. On an early morning at nearly 7.30 a.m, school was empty and I had arrived to bathe into the silence before the storm. Unfortunately for eleven years old me, he had the same purpose. Catching me alone, without the shadows of my girlfriends, was a chance he would not miss and so forth, he ran to me. Scratch that, he ran into me.

Romeo had a way of making every meeting one that I would not be able to forget no matter how hard I tried. He found the smallest and silliest things to do and say that would obliterate my logical thinking. Eleven years old me was a heartless ice queen who melted from his glances and nineteen years old me of today is a writer who remembers the smallest and silliest details of him.

"So brilliant, and bright, and beautiful."

He held me by the arms and looked at me with such intense admiration that I feared, if I did not look away from, I would burn. That day was the first day a boy got me speechless.

What do you say to a man who looks like he is ready to give it all up for you?

Eleven years old me did not say I love you back to him the first time he confessed. During the second month of us dating, there was one particular day amidst many that changed the nature of our relation drastically. The second semester's examinations had begun for all classes, and I had an art exam. It rained heavily on that day. Ever since I can remember, I hated the rain. But that day was the day I started hating it. As I was getting out of the room, royally done with art which I totally sucked at, I got my phone out to turn it on.

'A kiss in the rain would make my day.'

Eleven years old me scowled, threaded heavily down the stairs to come face to face with the devil only to ignore the trouble to capture the attention of one of my best friends. The latter was his classmate. That day, eleven years me managed to upset him enough.

I went to the bus stop with my umbrella clutched tightly in the hand of my best friend, alias his classmate, and I took the bus home without one glance to spare at the boy who was silently groveling at the back of my head.

Romeo always treated me like a princess and I hated feeling frail.

Remember what I said about Romeo being patient? Well, I tried to prove that he could be the opposite. I almost succeeded. As I returned home on that, half-drenched and sulking, my phone rang. I could hear him breathing on the other side. Trepidation coursed throughout the veins of my body and I had braced myself for the very worst. And then, just like that.

"I love you."

The first time was softer compared to the second time. We were standing in the corridor of the science block too early in the morning. See, I loved the resonating quiet before the noise of students chit-chatting and typical football matches or...my friends. And he loved me.

"Walk with me?"

He had looked so nervous from those three simple words that I was choking on my laughter.

"I love you."

I was still chocking. Not on laughter however.

The words spilling out of his mouth the next minute were bruising.

"I love you. Now. Yesterday. The next minute after-don't give me that look. You know I'm serious. You stumbled upon me. You caused this. You stood there just being bright, brilliant and beautiful.  And you should have been the one blushing falling over our words while falling madly, deeply and truly in love with me. Not me. You treated me like hell yesterday and you act like nothing happened. You were so terrible to me when I was pleading, I always am pleading to you, say yes-fine, I know that I did not say it out loud but all I did was send you a text message telling you that a kiss under the freaking rain with you would make my damn day. And you ran like a coward. As if I was vile. Just a monster. Everything your friends say on me, you think I don't know what they say but I do and you believe them. That's not even the end of our problem. Because when you ran, you went to your best friend. You think he cares about you, that his friendship is oh so great. If only you knew what he and his friends said about you. He is no good for you. And I don't care what you think of me. If you spat out that I'm being obsessive. So be it. You are mine! Yeah, you heard me right. And I know you want to be. You want me to beg. I've been on my knees since day one baby. And I know that it should have been you chasing after me but you have me completely wrapped around your fingers and I have never thought I wanted to be wrapped around anything ever before you came into my life. You find new ways to break my heart every day and everybody says that I am the player. But I never feel more alive than when you crush me. I would rather have you fuming at me, telling me you hate me while looking so furious, I start believing that my next breath is my last. I'd rather you do all of that than ignore me. Now, I highly advise you to stop looking at me with murder in your eyes, or I swear on my father's grave, I'll kiss you."

Looking back, I wished I had dealt with that situation with a little more grace..or intelligence. I wished I had the guts to cup his red cheeks and kiss his parted lips. To only move closer but instead, I ran.

Realizing that Romeo loved me like crazy rendered me with butterflies swarming through my stomach and fizzing through my veins. I had never known true happiness until this boy.

I stuck to avoiding him after the few days that came after...until meeting him became inevitable. I was walking back to class after going to the canteen and instead of taking the simpler route, I took the longest one because he was standing near the ramp that I had to climb. So forth, I marched on thinking he had not seen me. Soon enough, I was in the same corridor we stood in the last time we met and now, it was him marching towards me. With trepidation coursing through my blood, I understood that the only way to go was forward and so, I marched too. He had grasped my arms and kept me at length, "Brilliant". Blinking confusingly, I thought the words familiar. Only for him to move his hands to my blood-red cheeks as he got closer to my face, "Bright". And although my mind screamed at my legs or my hands to move, my eyes fluttered against my will and closed as his breath fanned against my lips. "Beautiful."

He did not kiss me that day.

I had terribly wanted him to.

Months flew by and I got harsher, colder. Romeo suffered unjustly at my hands and looking back, the fact that he stayed in spite of having so many chances to leave makes him irreplaceable. I remember telling him that we needed to quit.

We were imminently doomed from the start.

Our spit-fire romance was one that would grow thorns; we bled.

But we were magnets.

We fell back but not quite.

"Let's be friends...okay?"

On a rather great Sunday, I sent him a text in the early a.m expressing how I would rather we stayed platonic. That was the first time he took his time in replying. While his lack of response should have troubled me, I felt peaceful; I had been honest. 

He called that very evening.

"Meet me tomorrow."

I think, looking back, that he had expected an outrageous "No" but, as I had mentioned in that particular diary entry, I was at peace. Enough peace to calmly agree.

The next day was one I would never forget. No days were ever the same with this boy honestly. I came early to calm down nerves I thought he would never be able to awaken but my stomach was in knots. Safe to say, I thought I was going to vomit.

Once I had settled in my class, bags and bottle of water aside, I got outside to breathe in the fresh air and the quiet. Before I knew, he came from behind. He had looked perfectly ghastly; with his hair messed up as if he had ran his hands through it a hundred times and his blood shot eyes.

And I remember asking him before I could hold the words in my mouth.

"Are you okay?"

The harshness of his eyes had softened and all too same, the lines around them seemed to dissipate.

"Friends, then?"

With his hand out for me to shake, I smiled.

Things were finally good. Or so...I thought.

The months that followed were part of the best and unforgettable memories I have. I hold them close to my heart. Being friends with Romeo was like going on an adventure every single day. Reminiscing back to those times in today's time makes me truly understand why I fell in love with him, although I was incapable to tell him the truth.

From what he did to what he said, each and every action of his left me scarred, breathless and wanting for more. 

He had irregular time; that spontaneity kept me at the edge of my seat.

From texting me Taylor Swift's song lyrics to walking me home while playing "Truth or Lie", he found ways to make me laugh every day.

Nevertheless, Romeo had an impossible time realizing that I was untouchable.

The last time it happened was on my birthday. Or a few minutes before it.

From being on his feet all day and exhausted with renovation work at home, he had gotten into bed and called me the minute he hit the mat.

Drowsy, his words were slurred and I remember thinking how adorable he was.

R: "I'm going to get so drunk tomorrow..."

J: "You can't. You are not old enough."

R: "F the rules."

J: "Real mature."

Next I know, he turns from adorable to deadly serious. And he is whispering my name. All I could think was how I would probably not be another year older if my heart kept beating this fast.  

R: "In a few minutes I'll be the first to say what I'm about to say. I never understand how you manage to make me want to stay. But all I want to do is kiss you. Yet, when I actually see you, all I can do is stare. You are so brilliant. I feel like killing myself for not having you. So bright. Beautiful. Just like a diamond sky. Unreachable yet, so close to me. I never thought I could feel this way. I know we agreed on being friends. Not get close...keep our distance. That we are better as we are right now but god, I want too close. I want no space at all. I want you. I need you. I tried so hard to keep you away. I just can't. Honestly, I don't want to. I hate it. I hate being friends with you. Why would you want to boring friends when we could do so much more?...I always give in to you but for once, please, please, give in to me. I love you...I love you. I don't want you to be away from me. Say it's okay. Say it."

J: "I love you."

R: "What? What did you say?"

J: "Nothing."

R: "Say it again."

J: "No."

R: "Come on! Say it!"

J: "I won't!"

R: "I'm sorry baby...please, say it. For me."

J: "I am not your baby."

R: "Okay. Fine! Just say-"

J: "-I love you."

R: "Happy birthday, my Juliet." 

Remember I was a coward.

"I was so in love that I acted insane..."

Let's come back to the present, Romeo and I last talked two years ago and I still think of him. Not a day goes by when he does not occupy my thoughts. I wish him well, I really do just as I had told him the last time we parted ways but I really wished he had "well" with me. Romeo taught me that loving someone meant you fight for the person even if that meant killing yourself.

He fought for me...but I did not.

At the end of the overwhelming 2011, Romeo and I went through ups and downs but mostly downs that only made us fall more towards each other. I had terribly fought against it. Physically pushing a man who worshiped the hands that he held was a terrifying act of treason against love itself. I knew he would not give up on me and I needed him to.

So, I got together with the person he hated the most.

Only there is one more thing I underestimated about him.

I thought that would push him away, that finally, he would up and leave me with the understanding that he probably deserved better (and he did). But the man was a fool in love. And fools in love destroy the world for the person they love.

Going back to the boy I had started dating (we'll name him Sam for...reasons), he and I were best friends. Bonding over football and horse races, we were always seen on the school ground, or rather on the floor, laughing with our hands clutching our stomach. There was never a dull time. As much as I loved feeling the inferno rising in the pit of my intestine, the serenity I achieved being with Sam was a refreshing change.

In the first six months, everything went great. I had no left-over traces of Romeo. He took his distance...or maybe, the truth is, I stopped noticing him.  I remember writing in my diary how Sam had the ability to pale out all the man in the room. I guess, Romeo stood no chance.

Not when I did not give him any.

Six months turned into a year, a year in two and two became three.

I was 15 by the time Sam and I had been romantically involved for three years, soon going on four. Yet, problems started to rise. Egos, miscommunication, and misunderstanding. Sam became obsessive, jealous and well, repulsed by the mere idea of my having guy friends. Our relationship took a turn for the worst.

Hence, I was 15 and a walking contradiction. Pelting out to Taylor Swift's Fearless while I made my way to the girl's toilet far from my class, I was unaware of the trailing scent of caramel that lurked behind me.

I would not have noticed him if he had not spoken.

"I heard you and Sam are fighting."

I turned only to see his furrowed eyebrows with both hands in his pockets.

"How is that any of your business?"

Smiling down at me as he stepped closer, "You are my business."

I can remember the grueling anger burning through my veins as I refused to stand down.

But before I could open my mouth to give out any sort of retort, he had sauntered away past me. I had wished at that time that it would be the end of any importunate exchange between us. But fate loved Romeo and Juliet and it worked through delicacies to have their paths cross again.

One of my favorite places to be was the library. It was a refuge from unnerving eyes that stared and watched every move I made, from whom I spoke with to how long I spoke with them. Every Monday and Friday, I took my seat in the last row, furthest from the entrance and closest to the coziest fiction shelf. Romeo bunked his classes, as he would later confess to me during us meeting in the library in one of our most sensible conversation, to ask me about my day.

One conversation plagued me.

Leafing through a Daniel Steele's Kiss of Death, he perched across me and whispered quietly,

"Sam thinks I still love you."

Safe to say, I knew, as did he, that Sam was right but I had no intention of giving him further hope by acknowledging the truth.

"He is simply jealous. It's perfectly understandable since he is entitled to feeling like that. Plus, you only make things worse by behaving as if you are a threat to him."

"I owe him nothing. He is an insecure coward who cannot see what he has. Some people would kill to be in his place."

While vehemence spat from his mouth, I was thinking in that particular moment that no one has ever spoken so highly of me. But as all of our tales go, he just had to ruin it...or maybe, I did.

I would have continued speaking to Romeo in hushed conversations. I would have sat at our table every Mondays and Fridays. I would have laughed at his silly expressions while he tried to read the Smurfs, make fun of his inability to read anything that was not a comic book or a cartoon illustrated book. I would have stayed.

But I had lost the luxury to.

I had wished in a past diary entry that I had hoped of us not meeting again.

It took me losing him to understand that I truly missed him.

And for that simple fact, my heart ached.

Sam had gradually transformed into a man I barely recognized. My best friend whom I had felt comfortable around, had become the reason why I went to bed crying each night. Miserably hiding away pain behind smiles, I played along a game. Everybody thought he was Mr. Nice. Who would believe me if I said the truth?

I pushed Romeo away but as compared to the times that I had tried and failed before, this time was different. I was different. Instead of storms brewing between us, he met silence. I had lost all my fire. I was empty. Nothing left to give, nothing I became.

I was scared, you see.

My love could burn the man who loved me.

Sam was violent and possessive. In the first year, I thought that it was endearing but soon enough, it became suffocating. I thought I was protecting Romeo, so I did what needed to be done.

I left.

As I turn back and look at the days behind me, I realize that there were things I could have done to avoid my woe. Nonetheless, my mistakes, my actions and my words are things I cannot undo. Sam and I parted ways. Or, I fled away. There was no other way to get out so, I ran.

When 2015 was near its end, I had demon running around; demons I had to tame and to start that, I had to allow myself to feel the pain I caused and learn to love who I was.

And Fate worked in mysterious ways.

It was the last day of my tuition for the year. I remember being happy to never do Math ever again. I had sauntered away to take the bus and as I was ready to board, Romeo got down. He still gave me the same feelings; tight knots in my belly, heartbeats racing through the roof and shaking sweaty palms. All he had to do was look my way and I was in 2011 again.

I remembered thinking; "Demons to tame. Oh, here's one."

So I said, "Hi."

And he stared. Dead silent staring at me as if I was a figment of his imagination. A ghost of his past. We stood a few steps away. It only made him close the gaps as he came closer to put one hand on my cheek.

R: "Just making sure I am not dreaming."

And to honor the rare times, I smiled.

R: "Don't do that."

J: "Do what?"

R: "Looking at me. Smiling like I gave you the moon."

I knew it was cruel to giggle at the pained expression of the man who had suffered so much at my hand. Even more cruel to make a joke.

J: "You didn't though. It's still in the sky."

He looked up. He was still as beautiful as the first day I saw him bolting up the stairs.

R: "I would get it for you if I could."

I had called him a liar one too many times. And yet, he looked as serious as he did the time he spilled his broken "I love you" over the phone.

R: "Why are you still here?"

He waited for my answer.

I saw the doubts stuttering around in his eyes. I wanted to whisper out apologies and comfort. To tell him, all would be okay. But then, I would be the liar.

J: "I have to say goodbye."

He laughed like a maniac.

R: "Why?"

J: "I left without a word...and you deserve better."

He stumbled back.

R: "You have no idea how much-"

J : "-You hate me?"

R: "Not even close."

Suddenly, I could see all things I hadn't permitted myself to when we were younger.

It all came crashing down as he seethed; breath short, livid and panicked.

R: "I've hurt for years."

J: "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

R: "You did. Or else, you would not be here."

He turned away, as if my face was rendering him sick. As if my being close to him tore him apart. But the next words he whispered so quietly, I almost didn't hear, "But I still love you."

In all of my darkest moments, I have never felt the need to scream this badly. With one look, we went back to how we used to be; although, we lacked our usual blue uniform. We looked perfectly like a nostalgic and bittersweet memory should.

My hands were itching and his eyes were beckoning, taunting, tempting.

And he knew; he took one look at me and knew.

Gone was the girl who hid behind her usual facade of skepticism. In her place, stood me. 

R: "Brilliant. Bright. Beautiful."

And with every word, he stepped further. Being so close to me pained him for he had been shoveled down to being scared and miserable of screwing up that his eyes almost pleaded,

Don't make this worse.

I did nevertheless.

Standing on the tip of my toes, I shared a silent please before capturing his lips with my own and I swear, time stood still.

And suddenly, he can't breathe but he does not care. With one hand on my waist and the other entangled in my hair, he gives in; as he always had. Without second thought to the consequences of our action, we kissed like we were dying the next minute to come.

It would hurt to leave it at that, right?

Yet reality must set in and dear reader, you must remember; Juliet and Romeo, Romeo and Juliet. We were doomed from the start. Fairy-tales only go so far. At one point in time, the villain broke the hero's heart in million pieces. Although, she had nothing but love for him, it did not stop her from breaking it again with the first and last kiss they ever shared.

We separate for a moment and he is diving again but the hand on his chest stops him. He realizes a second later as his eyes looks away from my swollen lips to the warmth radiating over his white shirt; his heart was beating so fast.

He is suddenly 15 again.

R: "Don't do this."

He loved me too much to let go and I loved him too much to stay. He knew that breaking his heart was the only way.

J: "I need to go."

With a nod, he hesitatingly left his arms fall to his sides.

I had said goodbye and with a kiss, I sealed it.

I boarded the bus that came after, dying to run and craving for one last kiss. I felt the sin coursing through my vein tempting me to run back in his arm again. I knew better. I would be his doom and he is a martyr.

Hence, with that in mind, engraved, I stepped into the bus home and sat near the window to watch him fade away.

Romeo and Juliet were never meant to end with each other, dear reader. Yet, the world knows there had been no greater love that the one they shared. The one thing that my Romeo shared with me that was similar to Shakespeare's very own famous couple was tragedy.

We had something great but we had it at a time we could not be great.

The tale will live on; immortalized and treasured. Other forms of love and other faces will love me but, there will never be another like him. After all, you never forget your first love.

I'll forever be his,

And he'll forever be mine.

Frozen in time.

Sealed with the words

he had said the very first time,

"You can only run so far before I catch you again, my Juliet."

Written by Hanshika Heeramun.