Incomplete: The Story

PART I

There he was again. Walking past the foyer, alone as usual. The girl glanced casually at him, his apparent oddness grabbing her attention. He stood out from the crowd of students with his awkward gait - not to mention a reference book tucked under his arm. Everything about him screamed "misfit".

He'd always been like that.

Why do some people become loners? Why is it that some never find true friends? Do they choose to go against the flow? Why can't they fit in anywhere? Do they even need friends? The questions nagged at her ceaselessly. She wondered why she even cared.

He was from her class, yet she never tried to get closely acquainted with him. Nobody did, really. He was just...odd. She, on the other hand, was generally viewed as one high up on the social ladder. She felt a pang of understanding for him - she'd never really fit in as well. Popularity was nothing, contrary to what those who lacked it thought. She was a loner, too, just of a different sort.

Her curiosity got the better of her. Mustering up her courage, she approached him.

"Why don't you ever talk to anyone?" Abrupt to the point of rudeness, yet she couldn't think of any other way to start this conversation.

He was taken aback. Erm, are you talking to me? He blinked and realized that she was. He couldn't make sense out of her question - then again, it wasn't every day people approached him to chat, much less ask him questions.

"Um. Huh?" Relieved at the sound of his own voice, he regained his composure. He was flustered - he couldn't remember the last time he spoke to anyone within the week - besides his parents, of course.

"Why are you always alone?" She prodded him from a different angle this time.

"I...I don't know. Why?"

She paused and an awkward silence reigned. She didn't know what else to say. To her relief, he hesitantly smiled.

"I...not that...you..."

He cut himself off, knowing that his incoherency would further worsen the situation. Somehow, he never had a way with words around people, much less around girls. Why was she even talking to him, anyway? She wouldn't understand. Harhar, no way she could understand. She had everything going for her - a perfect life, perfect grades, perfect everything. He envied people like her with all his heart.

"Yes?" Her head was cocked to one side, a quizzical expression written all over her face.

He felt himself turning red, not knowing how to reply. Who put him under the spotlight? He fidgeted and wished that he could disappear - either him or HER.

"No one understands me." His already barely audible voice trailed off, and she had to strain her ears to catch the last part. By now, her bravado had worn off, and she was already thinking of ways to gracefully exit the conversation. His visible embarrassment stopped her in her tracks. Her empathy won out.

"Try me. I know what it feels like, trust me. Nobody really understands me too. Hard to believe, but..." She gave up in frustration. Experience told her that it would only earn her an incredulous look mixed with disbelief. She was tired of all that. So fed up. She braced herself for the inevitable.

Now he really wished he could disappear. The heavens must have really had something against him. First of all, a GIRL chose to talk to him today. Oh, excuse me, PROD into his private life, not just talk. THEN, just when he thought that things couldn't get worse, she had to go all emotional on him. Help. Help. Help!

"I'm sorry." He felt weird. Not as uncomfortable as he expected. And all of a sudden, the awkwardness he felt vanished. He found himself stretching out his hand. It was surreal, almost dream-like. He couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth the next second.

"Let's be friends."

***

He reminisced, sitting alone in the comforting darkness, the cacophony dulling as his memory took him back a few months, weeks, mere days ago.

A faint smile played on his lips as he remembered how she would seemingly walk in and out of other people's lives, touching them and sprinkling drops of refreshing joy with her little acts of kindness. Her distracted gaze, always on the lookout for who knows what. She first captivated him with her inquisitiveness, prodding him to let her into places he'd never let anyone into. Unable to escape her charm for some odd reason, he found himself wondering more and more about her.

He helplessly watched her flit around, social butterfly-esque, unrestrained, untamed; she belonged to no one, and he could not bring himself to claim her. There were times he thought she paid him more attention than what would have been usual, but the very next day, uncertainty would strike again as she passed him by without much notice. Flustered, he took a back seat, and resolved not to make anymore clumsy moves. Secretly, however, he never stopped longing for the day he could comfort her by enveloping her in his embrace, catch her every emotion, feel her pulse beating.

***

She smiled wistfully as she curled up in bed, her thoughts allowed to run all over each other while she watched and listened, as might a casual observer.

Strangely, he always appearing in her thoughts nowadays. She remembered the muted signals he gave out; the hints she tried to ignore. Somehow, though, she could never be sure about how he felt for her. Something inside her was stirring, but she didn't dare understand it. It was inexplicable. What was so different about this one? He intrigued her by his mysterious stoicism. Why didn't he fall for her charm right away, or at least show that he did? Not many could withstand her subtle manipulation. Uncanny.

Then again, she didn't use it on him. She didn't want him to fall for her - she knew that she would have to hurt him. Too many secrets, some a young girl should never have to hold. Too many duties and obligations. Why her?

Why him?

She sighed, hugging her bolster tightly to her chest to calm her rapid heartbeats. And fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

James



She looked wonderful that night. Her skin was whiter than the snow, and her eyes, bluer than the bluest skies. Her hair was slightly messy; the shoulder-length locks of black hair dangled around her ears and pink cheeks. As black as her hair was her simple yet striking satin dress. Even without any lace or fancy decorations, her appearance took my breath away. Her dainty steps made soft clicking sounds on the smooth, shiny mezzanine floor. It amazed that a person like her could hold up an air of such grace and elegance. I was dumbstruck. Her presence sent me into a world of lonely and shameful despairing. I had been teasing her; I wanted to discourage her from coming to the ball. I had insulted her looks; she had looked like an undignified conformist. But she had taken up the challenge and now she was there before me looking like an angel. An angel whom I have fallen for.

"James," her gentle voice beckoned for me. Her sweet, melodious voice echoed through the dim, narrow hallway.

I could not say anything. I was frozen by her awesome beauty.

"James," she came again.

"Yes?" I answered with a question.

"Do I look alright?" she asked as she swung her frilly skirt ends left and right with a slightly bashful tone.

I cleared my throat. I felt my face growing hot. "You look wonderful tonight."

Our eyes met and something happened. It was special.

It was as if the world was about to collide into the sun, but all you can think about is to look at a a flower, smell the fragrance coming from it, ponder about the fragility of it all and feel happy and contented; just as if there was nothing wrong.

"James?" she asked, a little puzzled. "Are you alright?"

I said, "Yes, I feel wonderful tonight."

"Look, if you're guilty about making fun of me," she began. "Forget it, okay."

There was silence for a few minutes.

"Shall we dance?" I offered.

Her soft face broke into a childish grin. "Yes, let's!"

***

Marshall



"Hey, since it's only two of us here, let me share something with you," said my friend.

I lowered my book and nodded my agreement to lend her my ears.

"Last night, James walked me back home. On the way back, he told me about his dreams, his ambitions," she began.

Something's wrong.... I could sense it.

I slowly leaned forward to show my attention. When it comes to James, this particular friend of mine becomes - I don't know, uhm.. - sensitive, protective, melancholy, excited; to me, symptoms of love.

Oh yes, my friend is in love, even if she won't admit it. They met over two years ago. The two of them spend hours together. Music, sports, even studying together. Our circle of friends could tell that there was something special going on between those two. But they would never admit it to each other, not beyond anything superficial.

"And, from what he told me, this academy isn't exactly the place for him. I mean, if he wants to pursue his dreams, this academy isn't the right place," she continued.

My dear friend, I think I understand how you feel... I thought to myself.

"He told me that it's highly likely that he's going to leave," said my friend, disappointment evident in her voice.

Then there was silence.

"Do you know the feeling? You know, it's so disappointing somehow, and heartbreaking. You know what I mean? When you've worked so hard for something, and then it just gets taken away from you," she said.

I nodded. "Yes, I do. I do," I replied.

"I talked to my mother about this, about James leaving..." my friend said. "I actually cried over this matter."

Yes dear friend, I understand how you feel... I thought to myself again.

"I.. I.. I just, I just don't know what to do," she said with a tone of resignation.

***

James


"Liar! Filthy liar! How could you!" she screamed. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood seeping out from a badly cut lip. Her eyes were swollen, her hair bedraggled. She looked like she had just come from a battlefield.

I did not know what to say.

"Tell me what she said isn't true. Tell me! Tell me!!"

I looked at the ground and kept my silence. Nothing I could say would change what had happened. I was guilty all the same.

So she slapped me. Hard. I reeled back, my head ringing.

"So its true, huh. You just couldn't be bothered to tell me. Or maybe you just didn't want me to know?" She was no longer screaming, but her eyes were crying bloody murder. With her silent fury a wave of shame swept over me, my guts threatening to ice up.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're SORRY??!!" She slapped me again, harder. "Is that all you can say? You lie to me for three bloody years, and all you can say is SORRY?!"

I couldn't stand it anymore. I grabbed her hands before she could strike again.

"And what would you rather have had me do, lass? Told you?!"

"YES!!"

I looked at her pointedly. She looked back furiously, frustrated. "Damn it, you could have at least... At least...."

"At least what?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know! Said something! Done something! Anything!"

"You know I couldn't."

She collapsed, weeping. "Then why now, why now when tomorrow you'll be gone?"

I smiled bitterly. "I'm not the one who told you, was I?"

Silent, she sobbed, her face in her hands.

I knelt before her, and lifted her face with my hand. Her tear-streaked face, lovely with emotion. Her liquid eyes looked into mine, so deep I felt myself falling into them.

I touched her swollen lips with my finger. "At least now you know," I whispered.

She smiled heartbreakingly, and teardrops fell.

"At least now I know," she repeated softly, her voice hoarse with grief.

Then she got up and left the room, without once glancing back.

I had never felt so alone.

***

There was an odd mixture of feelings in the air tonight. She could almost taste the emotions: intricate and bittersweet. She scanned her surroundings with a swift sweep, her eyes covering as much detail as possible. There were people scattered everywhere, scurrying about, minding their own business. She wrinkled her nose as the smell of overpriced coffee and stale muffins fill up her head. What was she doing here again? Her mind kept going back to the same question. Why was she here? All she knew was that she didn't like it here very much.

She was standing in this very spot just a few months ago. Sending her best friend off, to who-knows-where. Her best friend was moving, not into another neighborhood close by, but some place further than the usual ten minutes of walking away. Another continent, in fact. She could feel the moisture well up in her eyes almost immediately as she recalled how much she has missed her since. Quickly, she blinked and forced the tears back to where they belonged.

The generic ding-dong chime sounded, signaling the beginning of a new hour. The jingle managed to snap her out of her memories and she was instantly reminded to focus only on the task at hand.

Frantically, she searched for a familiar face but found none, only quizzical looks from strangers when her eyes and theirs accidentally met for a split second. She wasted no time on them and continued looking for him. For anyone familiar at all. They had to be here, somewhere.

She checked her watch again and again. Begging for time to slow down, to accommodate her, for just this once.

She was angry, regretful, and perhaps even a little vengeful. The news was all too sudden, him speaking of leaving out of the blue. It came as a shock, a real blow. She scolded herself endlessly for not being attentive enough. How could she jot down the wrong time? How could she be so careless? How could circumstances be so merciless to her today, of all days? She needed a source to blame.

Nothing registered in her head, her mind was a blank. She never was the best under pressure. Thus, she decided to let her intuition guide her, for she had nothing else. Her sixth sense led her to the schedule boards. Putting two and two together, she began running towards the designated dock number.. she ran until her lungs felt like they were on fire.. until her legs felt like they would give in if she took another step.

Breathless, she reached the gate. Please, please, please... don't go.. not yet. She mumbled under her breath as her eyes combed through the crowds, searching for him.

But it was all too late. She was too late.

He's gone.

The ship sailed mere minutes ago. She raced all the way here, to no avail.

He didn't wait for her. Not even for another second.
How could he? How could he just leave like that? Without saying a word? Without a proper goodbye?

She let the salt water stain her face. She didn't try to hide her tears this time.

***

He was known for his bad habit of procrastinating, but even this was taking it too far. He was leaving in less than twenty four hours yet he couldn't bring himself to pack up his belongings. The mere thought of leaving this place, of leaving her, was enough to stop him from doing much of anything. His mind was clouded with uncertainty, doubt, fear and a tinge of unwillingness. In the end, he did manage to gather a few of his possessions - the watch she gave him for his birthday, now worn with seasoned use; and his sketchbook, filled with irreplaceable memories. He simply dumped everything else into the two open suitcases mindlessly.

That night, he drifted in and out of his slumber, his eyelids never remained shut for a full ten minutes. He tossed about on his bed, trying to will some sleep into himself. He stared at the ceiling blankly, he even counted sheep. After all, desperate times did call for desperate measures. He was going to need sufficient rest for his journey.

Unfortunately, sleep never came for him.

He was feeling particularly dazed and sleep deprived as he dragged his luggage into the port. He walked lazily towards the ticket booth, taking his sweet time. Just as soon as he was done loading his baggage, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was almost as though electricity ran through his body as anticipation began to build up inside of him. He spun around rather clumsily, fully expecting to see her standing behind him, with that half grin he loved so much plastered on her face. Instead, he was greeted by a loud "Surprise!" from his friends. He felt his heart plop down, but he quickly regained composure. He felt guilty for he really was more than glad to see his friends. He was happy that they were here. She'll be here. He thought to himself. She'll be here soon. He was sure of it.

He checked his watch. Again and again. Then he checked the clock on the wall. Not quite believing that it was almost time to leave. Where is she? He tried calling her, but her phone was off the hook. Was she avoiding him? He wouldn't be surprised, he knew her all too well.

Suddenly, he heard his name ring in his ear. It was her! She came after all! He was certain of it. He held his breath as he turned around, frantically searching for any signs of her in the mass of people. She was nowhere to be seen. A rush of frustration and disappointment boiled up in him, he wanted to scream his lungs out but decided that he was much too tired already. Could his mind be playing tricks on him? Was he going mad?

He waited, he really did wait for her to come.
He was the last one to board the ship, the most hesitant one to leave.

He didn't understand why she wasn't here, to see him off. She knew he was leaving today, he told her himself. Didn't she want to say goodbye, at the very least?

With one last hopeful glimpse at the crowd, he decided that she wasn't coming after all.

It took everything in him to step aboard the ship.
He felt for sure that his heavy heart would somehow sink the ship itself. He waited for the sirens to go off, but like her, it never happened.

As he sat himself down in his small confined excuse for a room, he began leafing through the old newspapers on the table. He needed a distraction. Anything. Anything to let it hurt less inside.

Mechanically, he wiped away a tear in an effort to hide it from the world. He couldn't bring himself to cry.

***

Diana


I looked into the mirror and found a stranger staring back. I didn't recognize the face in the reflection, the image registered nothing in my head. That girl in the glass couldn't be me... could it? Her hair was a disheveled mess, a few stray strands sticking out in all the wrong places. I found myself reaching out my hand, trying to tame her wild hair down for her, but my fingers only clash into the cold glass. I blinked and I saw that she too, blinked. That's when my attention shifted to her eyes. They were red and puffy, I guess she must have cried herself to sleep last night. There was a sadness radiating out of them, unmistakably so. Beyond her eyes, her cheeks were pale and tear-stained. Another sure sign that she did weep the night before. Her lips could have made a pretty smile, but now they were united in a frown. I glanced away from the mirror, wanting to erase the girl's image from my mind.

I shook my head, trying to clear out the imaginary cobwebs that had somehow formed in my skull overnight. The room I was standing in was a blur, I was feeling more than just groggy. I touched my palm to my forehead and quickly came to a conclusion. Just as I had suspected, my head was scorching hot. I was coming down with something ugly. I looked into the mirror again, I saw that I was still wearing yesterday's clothes. A crinkly T-shirt and a pair of ruffled jeans, quite an assemble. My outfit was still a tad damp...

I had walked home in the pouring rain. The weather matched my emotions. The howling winds, the charcoal-colored clouds, the drops of rain that came down hard, the muddy puddles beneath my feet, the rumbles of thunder in the distance, they all accompanied me as I trudged on my way. I had no destination in mind, nor did I really care, but my legs seemed to know where to bring me. Home, the voice in my head echoed.

I brushed away the moisture that was building up in and around my eyes. I couldn't tell if it was tears that were streaming down my face or just the rain, I guess it didn't matter much anymore. I couldn't even muster the strength to care anyway.

I felt nothing. Just a dull numbness throbbing in my chest. If I could assign this numbness a color, it would be a gray. A murky gray, if there is even such a color. It will be on the tip of the color spectrum, almost black yet not quite. There is some white holding it back. As if asking it not to take the plunge.. Tell me I'm not going insane. All in all, it's not the best feeling in the world to experience. I have a feeling it wouldn't look very good on canvas either, the color that is.

This very feeling, or lack there-of I should say, I was more than certain it had nothing to do with the weather. I would be willing to bet my college fund that it had little to do with the cold that was seeping right into my bones either. It had everything to do with him, though. Him. I cursed under my breath as I acknowledged this.

Nothingness. Emptiness. This must be how it feels like to have one's heart broken. This must be how it feels to have one's vital organ trampled over, and shredded into a million pieces, never to be mended. Remind me to never wear my heart on my sleeve ever again. I'm not sure if the initial euphoria of falling in love is worth the end product - the pain and numbness of a broken heart.

***

James

Screaming
I reach
Into the depths of my soul

I feel
Nothing but pain
Overwhelming
It burns so

Sobbing
I am overcome
My gut is wrenched
My heart is rent
I cannot feel hope

Choking
My mind explodes
I hear nothing but screams

My heart pounds
My limbs tremble

I take a deep breath

Subsiding
I look into the mirror
A lonely wreck stares back at me
Silently

The pain is palpable
The grief constant
My world has crumbled

I feel hollow
Lost for words
Shaken to the core

I will never love again

***

Dear Diana,

I wish
I could
Turn back time
Change the past
Do it all over again

I wish
I could
Right the wrongs
Mend the damage
Try again

I wish
I could
Take away the pain
Heal the suffering
Make it stop hurting

I just wish
I could have
Done things differently

But now the time is past
And all that's left
Is this giant hole in my heart

I miss you.

Yours,
James

***

Dear James,

You placed the key to your heart
In my hands.
I laughed it away
in disbelief,
Breaking your heart.
It tore us apart,
And you closed up.


Why didn't you say anything?
If only you did.
I dared not tell
But I too loved you.

You never knew.


As I taught you how to cry,
You taught my heart how to bleed.

Yours,
Diana

***

Diana,

I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?

James

***

James,

I was wrong too. There is nothing to forgive. I love you.

Diana

***

PART II

One year later...

Marshall


I scanned the crowd hurriedly, eager to catch a glimpse of her. It had been so long. What would she look like now? Had she missed me as badl- Bah, fanciful thinking. Why didn't that vain hope ever diminish? Those months overseas hadn't cured me of my infatuation as I had hoped it would. She never was mine. She was his. Without any warning, a wave of disappointment flooded me over.

As I attempted to swallow the knot in my throat, she appeared. Her face aglow, she skipped towards me with a dazzling smile. Before she could detect any sign of my depression, I had plastered a grin onto my face and stuck out my hand in an awkward attempt to shake hers.

"Marshall! I was expecting something more - like a hug, perhaps?" She remarked uncertainly, grinning as usual while giving me a half-hearted handshake.

Chuckling uncomfortably, I obliged. Boy, she felt so good to the touch - she even smelt so good...

"Um, you don't want to let go, huh? Fine with me. I don't really feel like letting go just yet, either," She was teasing now, the soft edge in her voice barely perceptible. Or was that just my imagination playing up again? I snapped out of my reverie and broke off all contact by taking an abrupt step backward.

"Sorry. It feels good to be home. Glad to see you."
"You look as good as ever. Come, let's go meet the others."

We made small talk along the way. I tried to keep my tone upbeat and light to match hers - it wouldn't do for her to sense something was wrong, anyway.

Inside, I felt morose. I kept pace with her quickening step as she neared our circle of friends. And him. Trying not to watch - and failing ultimately - her slip her hand into his, I acknowledged the fanfare of "welcome back!"s and drowned myself in all the attention showered upon me. It was a welcome distraction. I avoided looking in her direction. Their direction.

They say the worst way to miss a person is to be close to them, yet know that you can't have them. The painful blow of this realization left a throbbing ache in my heart - an ache that only intensified now that I was back home. The worst part wasn't the resentment I felt against him, it was the fact that he was a decent guy, and that both of them looked so happy together. They almost glowed in each other's presence. Ignoring the cliche statement that the noblest way to love a person would be to let them go, I couldn't help but wish I was in his place, holding her hand. So I got to hold her for a few seconds, while what I really wanted was to hold her forever. How ironic. Maybe it would have been less painful if she hadn't hugged me.

"So, I'll see you guys later. Good to have you back, Marshall."

She blew me a flying kiss, fluttering her fingers goodbye as they turned to walk off.

I surreptitiously caught that kiss, hid it in my greying heart and watched her retreating figure.

***

Diana


"...so Bobby's going to be fine. She just has to keep an eye on him."
"Uhm."

I suppressed an exasperated sigh, trying to keep my tone nonchalant as I lowered the menu and looked at him. His face unreadable, he stared down at the menu. He'd been staring at the same spot - No. 21 Cappucino Latte - for a few minutes now. Almost as if he was observing some change in those letters. This had to be the ninth time he replied me with an "uhm".

"Oh, and they also found an elephant in their fridge stealing their cheese and milk."
"So what about the ele-"

I'd slid into his couch before he realized what he'd said and started. He turned to face me like a dazed man who'd barely woken up from a dream.

"You're distracted."

I loosened his tie and sat back.

"Wanna talk about it?"
"It's nothing."
"Relax. Come on, something's bothering you."

I moved closer and angled myself into a position to massage his shoulders. He shrugged me off gently. I recoiled as though I'd been slapped. Something was really wrong. Something I didn't know about. Something he didn't want me to know about. I tried again in a calmer, steadier tone, swallowing my displeasure and keeping my hands to myself this time.

"Hey, I know something's wrong. You don't have to lie to me, you know? What's going on?"
"Never mind. Have you decided what you want? Maybe we should place our orders now."

I went back to my side of the couch, my imagination running wild with all sorts of unpleasant notions. I hated it when he did that. I hated the insecurity that came with being unsure; I hated knowing I wasn't privy to his thoughts. I hated feeling like I was being pushy. I hated feeling like I was losing touch...losing touch...losing touch...

No. No.

I woke up with a start, my heart beating rapidly. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare. Just paranoia. Just...nothing.

Or was it?

***

He looked at her smiling face across the table. She was laughing, constantly moving, never sitting still. Her excited chatter filled the room.

She looked at him with laughter in her eyes. Her eyebrows asked a silent question.

He smiled back, to show that everything was alright. But even as he smiled, he wondered if his smile was sincere. Was everything really alright? He did a cursory examination of themselves and the past few days and couldn't see any cause for concern. Yet deep down inside he knew that something was out of place. He should be happy, but he wasn't. She was the girl of his dreams, beautiful in every way, and she loved him. She loved him. He still hadn't gotten over that bewildering, astonishing fact yet. And so he should be happy. But he wasn't. Why wasn't he happy??

His mind flashed back to the conversation they'd had a couple of days ago. "If we can remember the one thing that each of us loves most about the other," she had said, "I believe that we can get through anything."

Anything. That single word repeated itself over and over again in his mind. Anything. He wanted to believe it. No, he needed to believe it. This relationship meant more to him than any other he had experienced. With her, he experienced emotions and feelings so strong, so clear, that they completely overwhelmed him. Within the short time they had known each other, she had come to mean more to him then anything else in the world.

"You stole my heart," she had teased. "But I left mine behind," he had replied jokingly. But only now did he begin to understand what those words left unsaid. A feeling of utter vulnerability. They had come to mean so much to each other that the notion of the relationship not working out was terrifying. "Love is fragile," someone had once said to him. He had not understood then, believing that true love could withstand anything. But he understood now. Even the strongest and surest of relationships contained, at least in the beginning, an element of uncertainty. It was a paradox, really. The stronger the love that one feels for the other, the greater the uncertainty, vulnerability, fragility. Uncertainties that only time could dismiss. And all of a sudden he understood.

He was scared. He was afraid, frightened, terrified. Terrified that it wouldn't work out. Terrified that it was just a passing phase.

"I know," a voice said in his ear. He started and turned. She had suddenly appeared by his side.

"You're afraid," she said. "Of us."

He shook his head in astonishment. "You constantly amaze me, you know. The way you so easily read my mind."

She smiled. Then her face became serious, and she leaned in closer.

"I'm scared too," she whispered.

He turned towards her, his eyes full of questions. But she shook her head.

"Shhh," she said softly. "It's alright. I believe that together we can get through anything. I believe."

He smiled.