Young Love

Young love, they say, is the greatest lost.

Young love,

Innocent and ignorant, they say.

Full of hope;

Full of lies.

“Have you ever been in love?” I once asked an ex lover over a cup of coffee in the most unusual café on the outskirts of town.

He pulled out a cigarette and puffed light clouds of smoke. “I could say I did.”

Even if my lungs reacted on the smoke, the café opened outdoors and the wind was not going in my direction.

“But, seriously. If I asked you not to react violently, would you answer all my questions?” I brought the muffin to my mouth and munched in solidarity.

He was solemn for a minute and threw me a quick glance.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed. “I’ve never been the scandalous one…”

I watched him as he tilted his head to gaze at the beautiful sunset colors of indigo and faint orange. The full moon had risen on its apex but there was still a lot of sunlight.

Shaking my head, I removed my spectacles and watched him with intent. “I wasn’t always the aggressive one, either.”

Being defensive came to me as a natural instinct but I forced myself to repress it. I had to remind myself that guys are not all assailants.

“Aggressive is not a nice word.” He tried to be euphemistic.

He was also defensive but this time careful and tactful. Something I tried to master after losing him countless times.

I couldn’t feel any emotions at that moment. “And scandalous isn’t either.”

At least, I tried not to feel anything; Just for the sake of not shouting at each other in a public place.

“Here we go again…” He was beginning to become sordid as he dropped his cigar on the ashtray.

He certainly felt my anxiety and was not comfortable with it, evident enough.

“Communication, they say, is vital to any kind of relationship. May it be friendship or whatever? Do you agree with that?” I pulled out a pen and started scribbling on the tissue.

I needed a solid diversion to distract me from the welling fretfulness inside me.

He peered over the tissue. “Yes, I agree with that. By the way, there are old habits you might never change.”

His eyes fell on the poem I was composing. His eyes smiled but he drew himself back and puffed once more.

“If you do agree, would you believe that distortion and misrepresentation of a word can be hindrances to efficient communication?” I tried to keep my eyes off him.

My system was getting delusional and started entertaining impossible probabilities.

“But you tend to show-off.” His voice quivered.

When I looked up, I saw him biting his lower lip as he tapped onto the ashtray.

I gritted my teeth. “That was a direct accusation.”

I stared at him and waited for him to shout his defense but he didn’t. He looked at me and smiled.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” His eyes were soft as he stared back.

I could tell he changed a lot judging from his stance and movement.

“Are you intimidated?” My voice sounded repentant.

I warned myself that if he indeed managed to change, then I must behave myself better.

“Yes.” He extinguished his half-consumed cigarette and puffed up the last smoke.

He must’ve noticed my breathing was becoming labored.

“You came from a school with quality education.” I tried to convince him otherwise.

He was smarter than me in many ways possible, I couldn’t understand why was intimidate by my remarks.

“It’s not that. My school’s name, colors, banner, and zeal couldn’t do much on an insolent mind like mine.” He picked up the tissue which I scribbled in and asked for the pen.

It’s true. It didn’t matter where you went, either Harvard or Yale or some community college, it’s how you execute that knowledge.

“I never said you were insolent.” I gave him a worried look before handing out the pen.

I may have insulted him but I never said he was impudent.

His eyes flickered with honesty. “You didn’t, I did.”

He bent his head and wrote down below the lines I wrote.

I looked away. “We’re old now; we shouldn’t be discussing stuff like this.”

The abundant foliage, the clear sunset sky, and the succulent coffee made the situation more sentimental.

“You’ve always been older than our generation.” There was a tinge of affection in his voice.

I’ve learned well enough not to encourage his tenderness. He was more than capable of swooning anyone.

“That’s my disadvantage.” I plainly said.

Anxiety crept up again; I wanted to make sure he won’t notice it.

“You don’t seem to fall on any of the category.” He also said plainly.

I wasn’t sure what to make out of his remark. It was either a compliment or an insult, I wasn’t sure.

“That’s true.” I took it as a simple remark.

Assuming didn’t take me to places in the past. I was certain assuming at that kind of situation wouldn’t do me any better too.

“…but I didn’t say that it wasn’t your advantage.” He was gleeful.

He did change. He became careful and optimistic.

I looked at him. “Why do you talk so carefully?”

He just finished writing and set the tissue and the pen on the table.

“I don’t want to…offend you.” He searched for the right word.

Ever so carefully, he tried but still he was despondent.

“In any way, how can you possibly do that?” I wanted to know.

Not just to annoy him but also to clear things out, I just wanted to know.

“Four, five years…it changes someone. We’ve changed through those years.” He avoided my eyes and bit into his croissant.

I must’ve slighted him in some way I wasn’t totally aware.

I nodded and took the tissue and pen. “That was a long time ago, don’t you think?”

He simply reinstated what I wrote; it didn’t really improve or ruined it.

“Yeah, we were stupid then.” He shook his headed and sipped his coffee.

He rubbed his palms together as he felt the cool breeze rush towards us.

“Stupid isn’t the best word.” I began to feel dejected.

The loss gained on me and I started to think about the distant past.

“Childlike, perhaps?” He tried to cheer me up.

That brought me back to reality, he had changed. And thank goodness, he changed for the betterment.

I turned my chair towards his direction. “Uninformed…rather misinformed.”

We were sitting across each other and each movement was insignificant.

“You really think so?” He faced me and entwined his fingers.

He set his elbows on the table and stared directly into my eyes.

“When we got back together a year ago, you expected everything to be the same…” I tried to be careful with my choice of words.

It was essential for the fragile situation; a make or break scenario.

“At least, I think I did.” He laughed without setting me free of his stare.

I was captured and absorbed by his brown eyes. I shuddered in apprehension.

“No, I resent that. We expected it so.” I brushed my anxiety off and laughed with him.

I’ve learned throughout the years not to point fingers and persecute.

“If it was mutual, so be it.” He squared his shoulders.

His smile was still painted on his face; I didn’t know what was amusing him.

We were silent for a while but he broke it. “I still do not regret a single thing.”

He pulled out a new stick; He was chain smoking.

“Even lying to me and Angela?” I creased my brows.

That was a painful memory I brought up, I tried to keep a straight face.

“Why must you always see the negative side?” He reached out to my face and touched my brows.

He showed me a new man in my midst as the winter solstice came in full swing.

I drew back and pulled his hand away from my face. “It’s called opposition. I was never meant to be your synergist.”

It was amazing how the universe conspired to make it schmaltzy.

He kicked a floor board in place. “If I say I am depressed with my exams scores, would you say I should feel otherwise?” I figured he was trying to make things out and his analogy was the most appropriate.

“Yes, and then you’d start telling me I don’t understand you.” I laughed.

It made me comfortable to accept that he did change fully.

This time, his brows wrinkled. “You’re right.”

He seemed to swallow and then looked away.

“Was that bitter to your mouth?” I looked away and said with bitterness.

I thought he changed but I was disproven.

He hung his head and stared at me. “You’re antagonistic.”

I looked at him and saw pain in his eyes.

“We’ve established that.” I tried to be unaffected as possible.

I didn’t want to entertain the possible atrocity.

Young love,

Naive and unaware, they say.

Full of anticipation;

Full of deceit.

I stared at her. “You always do that.”

I wanted to understand her. I didn’t need a repeat performance of what happened to us a year ago.

“What?” She didn’t look at me.

Her eyes almost glowed gold in contrast to the silver moonlight. She has always been pristine to my eyes.

I looked away. “Make simple things intricately complicated.”

I tried to keep her; I tried to make everything ok. But I wasn’t good enough for her anymore.

“That’s fine.” Her voice was plain and simple.

Something kept her back; the vitality in her vivacious spirit seemed to have drained in a year.

“Now you just made an intricately complicated situation be deduced to simple argument.” I tried to make out her face as I continued to stare in open space.

“I figured you didn’t want to argue.” Her voice quivered.

I wanted to look at her. It frightened me that she may be crying.

“When I wanted to, you don’t want to.” My voice came out soft than intended.

Some things just didn’t cooperate with me no matter how hard I’ve prepared for them.

She was cross. “Not your synergist.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer and shifted in my seat to turn to her.

I shook my head. “I’m not getting this.”

No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t figure out what she really wants.

“Love is not just merely romanticizing, manipulating or martyring. It’s not a symbiotic relationship.” She was fond of picking out random quotes out of write-ups she had read.

The intention was clear but I didn’t want any to hint it. I was prone to responses too vigorous.

“Symbiotic…geek talk.” I clicked my tongue and laughed it off.

I somehow wished she’d drop the love issue.

“You didn’t understand me?” She turned to me.

Her grave eyes shook me in a painful way; she was my weakness even at the purest form.

“I did, I just to pick on the detail least arguable.” I threw off an honest excuse.

I knew she wanted to hear excuses even the lamest. She valued honest in ways unexplainable.

“Symbiotic is one of the ecological relationships characterized by complementary existence.” She started to argue.

Whatever the topic is, she just argues. I was just thankful she dropped the love issue.

I laughed with earnest grace. “I know that. I’ve been through High School and Primary School, too.”

She expects everybody to retain information long forgotten by a feeble minded guy like me.

“You do get my point, right?” Her eyes fell on mine and smiled.

She was beautiful. Words were never enough to describe her.

“I do…” My courage to speak up failed me.

Her beauty still captivated me and I was still envious of the guys privileged to love her openly while I forced myself to suppress it.

Young love,

It happens to us in any way.

Either by fate or by chance;

It was meant to teach us greater lessons in the end.

I reached the tissue out to him with a new set of lines in it. “I’m glad you’re not a jerk anymore.”

I thought that there will always be words we will never say again after all that we’ve been through.

He took it and read it for a minute. “I thought you liked that about me.” He played with it and closed his eyes.

I listened to his breathing, calm and wonderful. “We were twelve and my prince charming came into view of a boy who wears Dr. Marten’s and Oxygen, so yeah…” I reasoned out with the very best honest justification I could give.

“You were attracted to my clothes and my shoes?” That irked him a bit.

He thought I’d be the person least concerned with worldly things; he instilled an ideal image of me long before he knew the real me.

“No, the matter you carried those clothes with confidence was what I fell in love with.” I slid the pen under his hand.

As always, I redeemed myself. I always knew how to, at least that's what I used to think.

“And I thought you were superficial.” He sighed in relief.

I knew too well that he didn’t want me to think I made him fractious. Maybe I was imagining things.

“You’re gay, you know.” I kidded.

I’ve teased him a lot of this, I knew he wasn’t. The word homophobe just didn’t go well with my referral of him being gay.

“If you want me to, I can be.” He joked back.

It didn’t sound the way it used but it went out fine anyway.

“No comment.” I smiled and sipped coffee.

I drew invisible patterns in the air. He knew me that well and by the looks of it, my physicality couldn’t catch up with my creative flow.

“Riiiiiiight.” He extinguished his fourth half-smoked cigarette.

Smoking made him loosen up a bit but I know he didn’t want to trigger my asthma.

“I have a lot of gay friends and I’m proud that they’ve shown the world who they really are.” I haven’t dropped the topic yet.

Most of the time, I leave people off with a lot to think of. I think I’ve mastered that over the years.

“I’m not gay.” He said straight as he gave me a quick look.

I must’ve looked amused with his irritation; he knew I was teasing him.

“I’m not buying that.” The amusement was now showing more unmistakably.

He was holding out his surface anger. It even looked like he was counting to ten.

“Believe what you want to believe, I know what I am.” He turned to me and smiled.

It was difficult to keep himself controlled and calm but it was amazing that he did.

“So what are you?” She continued on.

I was utterly pleased with his extended patience although I thought he was near to cracking.

“Human.” He said through his teeth.

He stared at me. The stare reminded me once agian that he had already changed.

“’kay.” I dropped it and beamed.

I stared at him as if trying to read his mind. Right then and there, he softened and I felt the warmth deprived from me for a year.

The silence spoke for us once more.

“Hey. I need to go.” I stood up and left a bill for my coffee.

The coffee shop outside town began to be cozy but we needed to get back to reality.

“I know. We’ve had four cups and it’s beyond our coffee breaks.” He stood up and shoved the money back to my direction.

He had never let me pay, even in casual occasions.

“I have time.” The principle of woman empowerment boiled in my blood.

I left the money on the table and started to walk towards the parking lot.

I knew he picked my bill up and replaced it with a bigger one. He caught up with me and whispered.

“I’ve got freedom.”

He gave me the tissue and rode his own car.

Young Love,

I bid you farewell.

But the memories will be cherished;

They will always remind me…

P.S. Text me, ok? I miss you.

I was probably four kilometers away from the when I started sobering. Her image quickly faded from my rear view mirror as my vision blurred from the tears welling up.

“Goodbye, Young Love.” I pushed the accelerator hard enough and drove to the direction of Seattle.

Author's Note

I've been impulse writing for the past few days.

Do mind the grammar and technical errors, I wasn't really paying attention.
This means I need your help. Point out the mistakes, please. Don't bash it. Point it out.

For inspiration:Music

Reviews

[Belator Books]

This might just be an excellent scene if written from second or third perspective; it could give the scene back the scope which first person drains from it. Also, I'd replace the 'I looked at him with intent' to ' I watched his face/eyes/expression intently'. It is a budding tete-a-tete with much promise, if the aforementioned perspective is changed.

[WriterMe]

This was was pretty good. The conversation a little drag-ish for my taste but I liked the way you put everything.
One things about your works I have noticed are the small sentences you add between paragraphs and I really like them. I think they suite the story beautifully =]
Great work.

[Lorydes]

haha. :)) i'm your best friend, so I won't be harsh. :))

Anyway.
The article/story or what you call it, is nicely written and the choice of words are remarkably epic. It's very detailed.

However, too much details makes it boring. What happens is that the details steal the plot/essence of the story. so. . .

don't be too obsessed with details, my dear. :))