-Hungover, Ke$ha.
* * *
"All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is (im)purely coincidental."
. . .
It was a Saturday afternoon, and the sun's heat was blazing steadily through the entire stretch of the beach. There was no escaping its greedy kiss, except maybe beneath green, leafy trees or brown, wooden pagodas built among the rocks. While the adults made great effort to keep their skin lathered in sunscreen and sheltered from the UV rays under umbrellas, their youngsters had given up a long time ago. They had thrown themselves under the mercy of the harsh sunlight, taking all their beach sports and activities heads on.
Among the young adults, there was a certain young man. He was not the tallest, but often stood in a confident manner- back straight and shoulders back. And when he ran, kicked and scored in each friendly match of football with his "bros"- as he liked to call his friends- he carried himself with the same level of self-assurance. He was not an arrogant one, no. If anything, he was the most approachable player in the team. He was just... balanced, knowing better than to take too much pride in himself. To find his Achilles' Heel, would be tricky.
When the (soccer) football game came to an end, he jogged away from his teammates- left them to cook themselves under the inane heat, really- and towards a girl who parked herself underneath the trees further up the shoreline. Ah, he thought, there's my girl. Sleeping, as usual. He dropped himself next to her and planted a kiss on her forehead, before wiping his own sweat off from her. If anything was his greatest pride (and joy), it was her. She was his other half- the very extension where his Achilles' Heel could be discovered.
He studied her in her sleep, admiring the way her eyelashes rested on her rosy cheeks, the way air entered her button nose, and the way her breath escaped between chapped lips. He frowned at the sight of this slight imperfection. How many times have I told her to drink enough water? He licked his lips and kissed hers, in a vain attempt to make it look plump and full again. Sleeping, always sleeping. That's all she ever does these days. She once told him that it was her coping mechanism. "When I'm depressed," she said, "I go to sleep."
He missed her while she was asleep. Sure, he could still hold her in his arms, but she was unresponsive for the most part. If he moved around too much, she'd wake up cranky. He knew better than to wake her up to keep him company, because the last time he tried, it filled him with worry. She had looked at the world with dark, hollow eyes and when she spoke, it was so slow and deliberate, it began to sound as if she was filled with inexplicable pain. "No one should be punished to feel like this," he would often hear her mumble to herself.
And so, as much as he wanted to be with her on the same realm of consciousness, he'd let her sleep. When she was awake, he'd notice that she'd hide herself from behind her books... from her family, from her friends, and most of all, from him. He once asked her to describe how she felt, and she said, "Emptiness." He felt helpless. He has known for himself what it felt like to be dispirited, but not to the point where had lost all his will to live. She had tipped way over that point- nowadays, she simply waited for life to be taken away from her.
But if she died young, how could we ever grow old together? He thought, sadly. She wasn't always like this. He remembered the way she'd throw her head back when she laughed, the way she'd bury her face into his chest when she cried, and the way she stared right into him when she was angry. (Oh, man.) She was once... alive. And he knew, that she once looked forward to life. No one talked about marriage, career and babies if they didn't intend to live long enough to have any of those, did they? She used to think about their wedding, aloud.
She was just a shell now- empty. Or rather, waiting to be emptied. Unbelievable, how much a series of unfortunate events can affect a person- a rumor, a scandal, and a threat that found its way into her heart and turned into fear so cold and so poisonous that it numbed her over. Death and life really are in the power of the tongue, after all. And so now, whenever she was awake, he'd take on a one-man act to revive her- a little bit at a time. If words were what pushed her to the edge of the cliff, then maybe it'd work the other way around.
Maybe, he thought, it would bring her back to me. He looked up and watched the clouds idly float in front of the sun's way, to the relief of the then-football-now-volleyball teams down on the beach. He heard someone murmur, and when he looked down, he saw that she was waking up. He put his hand over hers, to let her know that he was with her. She blinked up at him with clouded eyes and he smiled warmly at her. If only she saw herself the way I see her, he thought. Seeing that she was still dazed, he helped her up to a sitting position.
"Good afternoon!" He said, cheerfully. "What's so good about the afternoon?" She muttered. For all the zest she has lost, she hadn't lost her cheek yet. How convenient. "How are you feeling?" He asked, and immediately braced himself for one of her dark answers. "They kidnapped you in my dream," she said simply, "I was really, really depressed, until I woke up." He winced, assuming that waking up made her feel worse. She used to tell him that she often hoped to die in her sleep, and that, just as often, she woke up... heavily disappointed.
"I felt much better when I woke up." She said, surprising him, "I was so relieved to see you. The dream was so real, I really thought you were taken away from me. I missed you." He beamed from ear to ear after hearing this, and scooped her close to him, saying, "I missed you too! I'm still here, baby. I'll always be, as long as I can help it." She couldn't resist: "K, but I'm going back to the city tomorrow." He sighed inwardly, This girl! It may take weeks, months or even years until she's wholesome again, but he will love her- all the way through.
Color me purple!
Color me purple!
