The one that got away.

(Nosen is pronounced: No-cehn, Tobi – Tow-bee).

“Oomph.”

Her yelp is muffled by the blue cashmere sweater the person she bumped into dons. Her sling-on purse falls to the asphalt and she stumbles back, tripping on the sandal heels strapped loosely to her feet. All these happen in a second, and she cries in alarm again; she feels her vision blur as her body edges closer to the ground. She doesn’t fall, though, she is caught in a swift embrace. She leans back, and as she looks into those hooded, grey eyes, recognition strikes like a flint match fire -delayed but eventual, and shivers run through her spine, only enunciated by the cold breeze.

The one that got away.

Reflex, quick as ever, has her leaning upright, away from his warm hold, but this movement causes both of them to fall down, him on top of her. She grinds her teeth as she feels the rough, bruising contact her elbows make with the coal tar.

“Nosen..”

“Tobi…”

They call each other’s names in that position, and as he frowns at her, she budges, pulling herself from underneath his body. She has to get up. She can’t let him see her like this. She struggles to her feet using the physical pain as a barrier to the emotional pain she feels upon seeing his face again. That plain but handsome face. The rough edges, the soft curves. The shy smile and the eminent frown that conceals it. The disinterested look that always dominated his features so well, it was his signature look. Is. Indifference.

This night is different. He seems surprised, thrown off by the sight of her. His eyes linger on her, somewhat dumbfounded as she tries to pick up her fallen items and he eventually crouches, joining her. His hands find something, a sketch. A drawing of him.

She’s still a good artist.

He stares at it for a while, then looks at her in question. She sighs.

“What is this?” His voice is harsh, a coarse blend with the chilly winter air that is expelled in ragged breaths from his mouth as he speaks. She tries to respond but he seizes her purse and searches it, scanning the contents rapidly. He sees a sheet of paper with words scrawled over it. It is her handwriting, he recognizes it instantly, but he shows no emotion. As he reads through it, he notices the presence of his name in different lines.

A good writer too.

He holds the two sheets of paper to her face. “Are you obsessed with me? Still?”

She doesn’t answer. He folds the papers together, neatly into his trouser pocket.

“They’re mine,” She objects, but he simply drags her to her feet and walks forward, her arm held tightly in his palm. “I have to go- I have somewhere to be needed- I need to go...to be. There’s somewhere I need to be.” She stutters and mixes up her words like she does when she nervous. She’s always nervous.

He only strengthens his grip. Soon, they pass a diner and he tows her in, placing her at one of the booths. The diner is empty, save for the waitress. “Stay.” He says and goes to the counter, placing an order.

She can’t even protest, she just stares, weak, exhausted. He is handsome, looks almost the same even after six years. She gazes for a while, wondering, just wondering if they can ever be friends, acquaintances even, again. She can’t ask for more -they had once been there; lovers. They once had a thing together and she ruined it. They ruined it. For, she was his once upon a time lover. And, he was the one that got away.

She misses him. She misses his smile. She misses his touch. She misses his love or whatever it was he gave her while they were together. And while she gave her all, he only let her see bits and pieces of himself. He gave her a taste and left her thirsting, panting for more.

She still loves him. And him…he probably saw her as someone he could experiment with, test the waters of love, relationship. Maybe he cared for her at some point, but he never showed it enough to make her feel like she really mattered.

“Nosen.” The loud but soft call startles her. She looks up to find him sitting opposite her. How long has he been there? Has he been watching her, too? He pushes a plate of spaghetti towards her. “Eat.” The command is subtle but firm and she knows better than to disagree. So, she eats, ravishingly. She doesn’t care for manners, formality, elegance, or any of those stupid things people do in the name of etiquette. She is hungry, and she eats.

He stares at her. His head is clouded with conflicted emotions, but, the only ones he can concisely identify now are annoyance and anxiety. He hates that he bumped into her today. The week has been very hectic and disorganized, and when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, she just had to appear. Fate is truly a sneaky bastard. It is then he notices the blood. It is all over her elbows and dripping to the table: one… two, like his heartbeat, suddenly very slow, unable to comprehend seeing her again. Unable to understand her, still.

It has been six years since he broke up with her with the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ fairytale, and she still hasn’t gotten over him. It is so tense, they can’t even share pleasantries, talk about the weather, ask how each other has been.

He grips her arm, and she whimpers. “It’s bleeding. It hurts, yeah?”

She glances at her arm then at him. She scoffs. “More than you can imagine. It’ll heal.”

Unlike the scars you caused when you left.

She finishes eating, and as she drinks soda from a glass mug (an old habit, which he remembers so easily), she observes him over the rim. He raises a brow and she sighs again; another old habit. He fights the urge to smile

“What do you want?” She asks, pushing the plate and mug aside. She leans her arms on the table, immediately hissing in pain.

“How are you?” He successively deflects the question, knowing there is anger lurking beneath those stark black pupils.

She gives him a dumb look, a look they once shared. He barely smiles. She gives in; “I’ve been worse.”

He rakes his hair with nimble fingers, frustration eating through his patience. “What is it you like so much about me? What is it that makes me so special, that makes it so hard for you to move on?”

She merely shrugs. “Nothing. And everything. I guess one day you start noticing things about them and if not careful, slowly, gradually, you start falling for them, the ones we love. Fate is such a sneaky little thing, you know?”

“I said the same thing to myself just a while ago.”

She squints at him and leans back in her seat. “So, what exactly is it that made you never fall in love with me, or at least like me? Oh wait, don’t answer that, I know. It is my ugly face. My non-existent charm. My unappealing body.”

He smiles now, slowly, faintly. “Your gift for sarcasm hasn’t evaded you, I see.”

“Sadly. And I wasn’t being sarcastic. I was being honest. Tell me, what did you detest about me? Everything, hmm?”

“I never detested you. I loved you-”

“Lies. Come on, tell me the truth, I promise I won’t get angry. Maybe I will, but you will deserve it.” That is harsh, but she doesn’t care. She wants answers.

“Nosen…” He’s tired too.

“Tell me the honest truth, Tobi, how could you move on so quickly? Wh…uh…what happened? What did I do? What didn’t I do?” She is unyielding, hurting, tone even harsher.

“Nosen...”

“Stop!”

She bangs her fists on the table. The waitress looks up, at them, then away, sensing the fragility of the moment, the words stuck in Nosen’s trachea. Her composure is a ruined mess. Those walls she tried so hard to build around her heart, that protective barrier she put as a shield to any form of emotion has come crumbling down. With just one sigh of her name.

Memories resurface, repugnant, yet, all-too-comforting.

The supposed attraction between them started slow and subtle.

High school was a time none of them liked, but they met in history class, sophomore year, and they had good times together. He, the overly serious nerd that sometimes smiled in a way that made her heart flutter, and she, the clumsy girl that never had her textbook with her. She always asked to share with him, and he would refuse, but she would simply turn around and face him. Then she would blush at his scrutinizing gaze, feeling exposed, yet covered by him.

The feeling grew more and more till she was brave enough to say that she was…in love. They had become close friends then, and as much as she didn’t want to ruin their friendship, there was no denial of the tensed emotions between them. The sparks when their hands touched as he handed her a spare pen.

Just when she’d given up on him, on her, he confessed his feelings: It was a long day and they had one of the long seminars they were forced to attend, ‘sex education’ from a bespectacled counselor. She got fed up with the camaraderie and sought a place to hide, a place of comfort, the corridor in front of the restrooms. A place which he just happened to be at, the same time, with the same reasons as hers.

Being the good friend that she was, inquisitive too, she went over to where he sat. On the ledge of a window.

“Hey, you.” He looked up as she sat beside him and unplugged one ear of his earphones.

“Hey.” There was a slight smile then it was gone, quick as it came.

“What’re you listening to?” She asked but he didn’t hear, the earphones were back in his ear, where they always were. She wanted to tap him to make him listen, but she didn’t like the look he gave and would probably give her. That look of annoyance, like she was disturbing him. So, she just shifted to the edge of the window and opened her notepad which she’d brought along with her.

She wrote, a continuation of something she’d started the day before. She tried to channel her emotions into the story, shaky, but heavy, and soon she had written one page. It was then she heard her name.

“Nosen.”

 She turned to face him and realized he was closer, beside her. “What are you-” He hesitated. “-doing outside the hall?”

“What are you doing outside?” She fired back, leaning forward. He chuckled.

“That place is way too boring and noisy. I wanted some fresh air and quietness. Some time away from people.”

“I must be interrupting you then.” She replied, looking him in the eye. The statement was a more profound question as to whether her presence in his life was a nuisance and he knew it.

He laughed this time. “No... I just….” He paused, clenching his jaw, the vein at the side of his head ticking.

“Just what, Tobi?” Her curiosity increased.

He shook his head. “Nothing. What are you writing?”

She sighed. “A story. Want to read it?”

He shrugged.

“If you complete your earlier sentence,” She said and immediately regretted it as he scoffed and looked away. A bad bargain.

It hurt. The way he so easily ignored her like she meant nothing to him. She meant nothing to him. Embarrassment, an all too familiar emotion tugged at her skin and she avoided the urge to wince. She leaned her head on the wall beside her. She wanted to leave, but she decided against it. She wouldn’t let him scramble her emotions. She would-

“I just… I find it difficult to think straight when you’re around me.”

Well, if he didn’t just scramble her emotions.

He continued casually. “I think I have feelings for you. It’s complicated.”

She turned to face him, stomach-churning, heart-racing. She didn’t feel floored at his declaration. She didn’t feel serenaded. Instead, she was angry. How dare he say such heavy words in such a simple tone? How dare he classify all her hope and dreams and the huge leaps of her heart whenever she saw his smile under the word ‘complicated’?

“Indeed. I don’t understand,” She said and sighed when she saw him trying to deflect the answer, trying to change the topic like he always did. She turned her head so he wouldn’t see her eyes water.

“Oh, no don’t look away now.” He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Admit it, you feel it too.”

She laughed a little, mocking him. “Feel what?”

He raked his hands through his hair, frustrated, unable to form legible words. “Admit …you feel… this.”

His lips meeting hers wasn’t a surprise. What shocked her was the lack of skill with which he did it, kissed her. His lips were like feet on ice, shaky, searching for solid footing, roaming her mouth like it was a crime scene, scared, tentative. His lips were fiery but nervous, very nervous. She laughed against his teeth, the tension gone, replaced by a warm feeling. A feeling of hot tea on a rainy day, a feeling of checking the mail, and seeing that you were given admission to an ivy league school, a feeling she felt that morning. A feeling that fumbled around the word ‘content’ till it owned it. She was content.

When he pulled away, she swallowed, her eyes shut for a second, elated, but unsure of how to handle the awkwardness. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her.

“You’ve never been kissed before, haven’t you?” She asked.

The taupe of his skin showcased a beautiful sprinkle of goosebumps, and he looked away. She laughed again, then touched his chin.

“Say something before this gets even more awkward.”

More laughter.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said finally, and she looked down. “I like you, Nosen. I really do. Sometimes it feels like the only thing I can think about is you. And your notepad,” They both chuckled at that too. He held her hand, tracing over it. “I always wonder what you write about, and if any of it is about me. You confuse me, Nosen. I like you, words can’t even begin to explain. I-” He closed his jaws and swallowed. “I want us to be together. I want to be with you.” He looked at her, searching for approval, and answers. “I want to explore what we have together and more. I want to know how far it can go.” He clenched his jaw again. “I-”

She placed her pinkie to his lips. “I want that too. More than you could imagine.” He smiled fully now. She leaned forward, such that there was just a hair’s breadth between them. Just as he was about to close the gap she shifted to the side and pecked him. She pulled away laughing, and he blushed, he blushed! and touched his cheek.

That moment…that moment was glorious, the pure ecstasy, the realness, the awkwardness the intimacy that blossomed…

She blinks, forcing herself out of the memory. That moment is buried several feet beneath the tired soil of her heart, and now he unearths it with a stray glance, that careless appraisal he gives her, almost scorning. She identifies a trace of worry in that stare but she knows better than that, to look for emotion where there is not.

Nosen runs her hands over her face, overwhelmed by everything, the sight of him, the memories, and his face, his beautiful face.

He, too, is ruffled, breathing hard. He has never seen her this angry and he is scared.

She opens her lips again; this time, her words are soft. “Don’t say my name like that, like you still own me. You never have and never will.”

She pauses.

“Seeing you again-” There are tears in her eyes now and she doesn’t hold them back. They spill freely on to her chubby cheeks and winter coat. This is the first time she’s crying, really crying since their break up.

She looks weak, so vulnerable, his heart yearns for her. To comfort. To hug. To embrace. To cradle her, kiss her tears, and tell her to breathe. To tell her 'you'll be fine, we'll be fine'. But that is not possible...anymore. He pities her...it is criminal, but he does.

“-It hurts. It hurts so bad.” The words in her mouth are bitter, ashes of love gone sour. She wipes her face with her palms. “I’m sorry.” She stands up. “I’m sorry, I’m ranting, aren’t I? I should go now.”

He says nothing, does nothing, as she walks to the door. “You should get that cleaned up,” He mutters, and she stops briefly. She doesn’t turn, scared she will break down, unable to repair herself, left to his mercy once more. “Your arms. You should get it treated properly.”

“I will.” She leaves. He can never understand her

Tobi stares at her through the translucent glass windows as she walks away from the diner, his mind even stormier than before. He sees her purse on the table, forgotten. Her sketch and writing are still in his pocket, but he makes no effort to run after her or return them.

Instead, he cradles the purse to his chest, caressing it slowly, inhaling the residue of her fragrance -Mars bars and Clorets.

Then, he cries. Slowly, they run down his jaw -the saltine liquids- until he is a sobbing mess. He hugs the purse even tighter.

And, oh, how he cries.