Ben

It's just another love story. http://harrywrites.wordpress.com/

It’s a Thursday night and Ben is heartbroken but his brain repeats “I told you so” like a broken record.

She gives him a kiss on the cheek and whispers ‘Goodbye’; he loves, but she never loved enough. He sits there in the dark with a half-smile on his face, missing her already. He feels weak and powerless but his mind screams at him to shut up. Ben, leaving her alone in the dark, puts a key above the door, just to the left of the three notches.

He sees himself hunched over with fists of hair and clenched teeth, swearing silently under his breath and cursing the corners of her mouth. He sees himself walking homefrom her house knowing he won’t sleep tonight because the dreams won’t compare to the memories. He remembers stopping for a moment and writing a small note to her by the glow of a street light; he walks back the way he came and places it under her door-mat. When he gets home at three in the morning texts are sent telling her to look for it; she finds it when the paper arrives and smiles on the doorstep.

“I’ve never left a note under a girl’s door-mat before”.

He scribbles a note and leaves it under the door mat:

“After it all, I still never knew if I was a good thing for you or not; most of all, I was afraid of breaking your heart, but I knew that in the end it was you who would break mine. You deserved the love I gave you, only I hoped you would never realise that, because then I’d be nothing”.

They argue over how much sugar to put in the cake: she shouts and screams and covers them both in cake mix. He takes one finger and runs it across her cheek before tasting it:

“Definitely needs more sugar”.

She shouts again.

He walks across the hallway and down the stairs, each step less satisfying and harder to take than the first. Ben pulls his collar close as he enters into the night, the first leaves crumbling beneath his shoes like ashes. The cold bites and nips at his ears. The city around him is empty but he prefers it that way: he feels alone and he has always preferred that; he was a thinker, not a talker.

They lay together in bed, staring out of the open window and across the stars. Thin strips of moonlight line her face and the eyes beneath glow. He tells her to stop apologising for being her because her is all he likes. She calls him silly and rolls over but the corners of her mouth are upturned in the way that only hers could.

Ben works his way towards the hill at the end of the street where the old flats stood; they spent a lot of their time there, watching the world go by on the streets below. He remembers dancing on the roof-top to old CDs. Ben wasn’t a dancer, but he’d dance with her.

She runs down the street, sprinting as far away from Ben as possible, but he follows. She ducks and dives among the cars, twisting and turning, but he follows. She reaches the end of the street and sits down, collapsed and crying, but he sits down beside her. She screams at him to leave her alone, but through a drunken haze he tells her that he isn’t going anywhere. Ben takes her outstretched hand and they stumble home together.

On the way up the hill Ben’s brain asks him why he always gets himself into such a mess. “For those few precious moments of beauty” replies his heart; the brain sputters sardonically and chastises him for being such an idiot.

And by slowly dimming lights they had their first kiss: he can see it now, on top of the world, but he wishes he couldn’t because he still remembers the shakes he had when she gripped his face for the first time.

 

“When you walk away with a smile on your face” claims the heart, “is the moment you realise that something, somewhere, is watching over you and providing these moments to treasure.”

The brain laughs again: “So you can sit, with your feet dangling into eternity and an empty bottle beside you, thinking and thinking about them all the damned time? Imagine the times you lay awake in the early hours of the morning worrying about things not worth worrying about. It’s because of those small moments that overshadow the rest of everything; you forget the bad. You forget the awkward moments when neither of you has anything to say to each other or when her hand shies away from yours �" all because of one kiss? Love is stupid. You are stupid.”

Sometimes Ben was arrogant enough to trust his brain; most of the time he was foolish enough to follow his heart.

 

The sun casts long shadows across the rooftop as they sit holding hands in its warmth. She turns to him and her smile is honest. He kisses her forehead. It is warm and as her lips touch his cheek they tell a hundred stories of sitting around on the roof. These are the seconds he craves every day.

 

Ben sits there now, but the sun has long gone; the moon is high and the wind lashes at his sleeves. The whole world is muffled under a blanket of November and the trees are bare, their twisted branches harsh against the cold glow of the city. The footsteps approach slowly and she sits down beside him on the rooftop, swivelling so her own feet drop off the edge. She looks at him briefly and tucks the small note into his breast pocket.

“I told you once that I was just floating through life” she says, eyes on the road beneath.

“You did” he mutters.

“Do you remember what you said?” she asks, eyes flicking to his.

“I told you to be careful I didn’t get left behind because I can’t swim”

She laughs and it is beautiful.

“Yeah, that’s what you said, but do you know something?”

“What?” Ben replies. He can’t help but smile.

“You left. You left me a note and you walked away. You came up here and you escaped. You realised at long last what this was all about.” She grips his hand.

“I am sorry for everything, but you just proved you can swim, Ben”

It’s Thursday night and Ben understands.

Reviews

[de_maruf]

again ben

[tamsin]

This is epic...it's the peak of epicness : D Absolutely fantastic to read. You've got an amazing talent : D

[Harry Alston]

Thank you Tamsin :)

[hogan]

Very engaging story and it sent a shiver down my spine at the end, that is a good thing for both a reader and writer.

[Harry Alston]

Thank you Hogan!

[quinfinn]

man, honestly....you need to seriously think about publishing your work. no publisher in their right mind would turn you down. if i don't see your art in the bookstores and newstands within the next year i am seriously gonna give you a verbal lashing, right here in front of God and everybody!!!!! i couldn't find (not that i was looking) a single thing wrong with this write. superb and addictive........

[Harry Alston]

haha, thank you ever so much! I dream of being a published author - one day, I hope!

[Marie]

Eloquent. Beautiful. Yes, it's just a love story, but you did something special with it...not spelling everything out but making the reader think and finally understand...

[Harry Alston]

Thankyou very much as always Marie :)

[KAOlmsted]

"Sometimes Ben was arrogant enough to trust his brain; most of the time he was foolish enough to follow his heart."
--Dude...seriously? That is so good I want to roll around in it naked.

I am so not a sucker for romance, Harry, but every time...every damn time...you turn me into a quivering, weeping, foolish old thing. I love your work. Love it with a capital L.

[Harry Alston]

Hahaha, thankyou, probably the best comment I've ever received ;)