other writers would be concerned about people seeing their search history 'cause they might seem like a murderer, while I'm concerned about people seeing mine 'cause I forget how simple human interactions work when I'm about to write them and like have to search what to say when you receive a phone call

No time to die - part 2/2

->part 1

author's note: the story is finished for now, and I don't think that I would go back to them in the near future. While writing it, at some point a voice in my head tried to convince me to turn it into something more, but I don't think I have the material for it, for now. Anyways I hope that you enjoy it.

~1600 words

The night passes peacefully, or at least what's left of it. And when morning comes, I can’t really tell who wakes up first, because we fall fast into the easy routine of making breakfast. Nothing fancy but it’ll do for now. She puts the cheese on my side of the table and the blackberry jam on hers, like how we used to trade them when we got the same package on school trips. Jam for her and her love of sweet flavors, and cheese for me because I never understood how could people eat something that sweet and I could eat cheese on every meal.

We chat while we eat, mostly about silly little things in our lives that aren’t too impersonal that it’d be awkward but aren’t truly intimate either. Beside talking about the general state of our families, she tells me about her weird classmates or funny moments in uni, and then asks me about my neighbor, an old lady who is always source of bizarre tales. And then we go on to talk about the latest news and events that happened in the world, carefully avoiding sensitive subjects, because we both know that our newfound proximity is too fragile to be tested like that yet.

This is an easy dance, one we had mastered before. Casual conversations for tiring days when we didn’t have energy for anything serious. But I guess now, after being apart for so long this acts as a shortcut to how we used to be back then and without even noticing we grow closer as it goes, and the room has gone silent.

The stillness of this moment freezes time for me, and then breaks it completely. I’m thrown back in time and we’re seventeen again. It’s the day before it all changed, or the day that changed it all, depends on your view. It’s the launch break before the last period on a Tuesday and we were sitting on the school yard’s floor. I can’t exactly remember what we were talking about, but back then we could never be spotted apart from each other. With our heated conversations and ambitious plans, discussing latest political changes and saying how if we were older we would do something about them. For once it felt like I knew which way things were going and I was less afraid to face what was to come. Maybe our dreams my dreams sound a little naïve now, but we were going to study humanities and we were going to make the world a better place. And well now I know for a fact that how I felt wasn’t just because of my dreams for the future, a big part of it was because of her. Having someone to share the scary and exiting parts of being a teenager with, felt truly special.

Then the bell rang and we had to go back to our class. We were crossing that last hallway and I realized that we were all alone, I was delighted, and felt like I was walking on air. I so desperately wanted to share this feeling with her, to let her know that she was part of the reason why, but I didn’t quite have the words for it. As our voices got quieter and our steps grew slower, we were turning towards each other, until I was facing her and she was looking at me. I can’t really remember what finally pushed me off the edge, but I took a step toward her and slightly rose up on my feet, and touched our lips very gently and briefly together, then pulled back to wait for her reaction. But before she could say a word or do anything a loud shouting made us both jump from where we were standing. I couldn’t register it at first but when I looked at the direction it was coming from, I understood that it was one of the school staff yelling at us to go to our class.

I felt so whiplashed from the contrast of those moments that I went straight to the class. During that period, which was one of the few ones that we didn’t sit together because the teacher had assigned the sits, I tried to make eye contact with her but she wouldn’t look at me. And when the period finally ended before I could reach her, they paged her from the office and she stormed out, and I couldn’t see her again that day. It seemed like an unfortunate coincidence back then, but now it makes sense considering what she was about to do, needed some paper work.

That day when I got home, I couldn’t bring myself to text her and thought that it would be easier to talk to her in person. Little did I know. The next day when she was absent in the first period, I was so close to breaking down crying in the hallway in the break after, when one of the girls from the other class found me and asked me if I had seen her. When I said that she hadn’t come to school that day, the other girl replied with a bit of confusion in her voice that “She was in our class today. She transferred subjects yesterday, I thought that you’d know.”

“What do you mean?” I was so shocked I was nearly shouting, and the other girl wasn’t having any of it so she shrugged and said “go see for yourself she will probably go back to our class soon.” She was indeed in the biology class, and she was sitting with one of their groups, laughing and chatting like it was something she would do every day. She wasn’t exactly cold with me but there wasn’t any of that previous intimacy either. “You didn’t tell me that you were changing your subject to biology?” bitterness and confusion bleeding out from my voice, “Yeah, it happened fast. Now you know.” She said it so casually that I was starting to doubt that this was all a dream. “And since when do you even like it?” “I never hated it, I’ve just decided it’s the best path I can go.” And well that argument (if we can even call it that because she couldn’t be more calm about it) and the next ones when I was trying to figure out what had changed her mind so abruptly led to nothing. She treated it like the most normal thing in the world. And she didn’t exactly change or end our friendship directly but from that point on, she wanted to do everything with her new group of friends, and mostly ignored all the little intimate things we used to share, and well of course I was welcome to join but it was never like how we were before. She also dogged all of my attempts at talking about what had happened that Tuesday in the hallways.

After a month or so I couldn’t take it anymore. I started ignoring her offers to join them at launch, and stopped responding to her texts. I found a natural group in our class to spend the breaks with and buried myself under studying. Nothing really happened in the last month left of eleventh grade and twelfth grade. We both got accepted in the universities that we wanted, she was going to be a doctor, and I was going to study law. I never stopped chasing what she was doing from afar, from this other friends’ Instagram or that other one in common group chats, but we never made direct contact for more than five years.

Until now, that she is in my kitchen, in a dead silent morning, and we’re just inches apart. It is kind of like how it was in that hallway, but this time I don’t have it in me to initialize anything. My breaths slow down and she is looking directly at me, not pulling away. I can’t tell how she feels from her expression, I hope mine doesn’t give away much either, but even assuming she hasn’t already sensed my rapid pulse, I can bet that my eyes are screaming to her to do something. Anything. But neither of us does anything.

Finally, we break apart when her phone dings with a notification sound, and she stands to pick it up.

“I should probably get going. He has arrived.”

“Um you called a ride?”

“No, it’s a friend.”

“Oh okay, do you need anything before you go?”

“No. Is it fine if he comes up?”

“Yeah, it’s totally okay.”

When he comes up, she introduces us briefly. Apparently, he’s a friend from university, she hasn’t told me anything about him during breakfast. It takes all of me to not roll my eyes at his bland comments, and not stare at them holding hands. I thank her one last time for what she did last night, not exactly mentioning what it was, suspecting that she hadn’t told him the whole truth. We say our final goodbyes and they go where ever they’re heading.

After she’s gone I don’t know how to feel about the whole situation. At least I didn’t die bleeding out on my floor. But I don’t know which would be more painful, trying to mend our relationship, knowing it’d never go where I want it to, or abandoning it again after having a taste of it after so many years. Well maybe, just maybe, I’ve become less stubborn from when I was seventeen, and with missing her so much I would just accept whatever piece of her she decides to give me.

-the end-

please read this

Firstly I want to say that this is a self indulgent blog and I just do this for fun and (as the username says) so I can be more at peace by writing the ideas that are floating in my head. So it's nothing serious.

Secondly English is not my first language, and writing in English is just a matter of accessibility, so I apologize in advance for all the errors.

Thirdly because as I said this is just a fun side thing that I'm doing I can't promise that I'd be posting regularly here and I can't grantee that I wouldn't disappear for a while 'cause the last thing I want this to become is another source for my anxiety.

And finally all the characters and/or story ideas are mine unless stated otherwise. Reblogs are welcome but please don't repost. Anyways I hope that you have a nice day.

No time to die - part 1/2

->part 2

author's note: so this is a piece I started writing when I got bored in a family gathering like two years ago, and I rewrote it recently. This is the first part and I haven't finished editing the rest but I estimate that there would be one or two more parts. The story is about two high school friends that meet after five years of having no contact with each other and their confrontation. Also the name is inspired by the song with the same name by Billie Eilish 'cause I was listening to it while writing a part of this and the song really suits the relationship between the characters.

~1800 words

I’m feeling a burning ache in my abdomen, and my mind is full of different scenarios that this could lead to, one worse that the other. What if I call an ambulance? I answer myself within a fraction of a second that it wouldn’t lead to pleasant things though the alternative which is bleeding to death isn’t ideal either. So just when I’ve finally convinced myself to pick up the phone and call an ambulance before I pass out, a name crosses my mind. It’s the best and the worst thing that I can do at the same time, but well sometimes your survival instincts would take over your overthinking abilities, no matter how strong they are. And despite all my hesitation, I know the number by heart.

She picks up the phone after few rings, “Hello?”, I’m a bit thrown off by how her voice is the same but her tone is different from the last time I’ve heard her, “Hi”, my voice shakes and I don’t know if it’s from the injury or hearing her voice again. “Riley? Is that you?”, somehow she could recognize me from just that one word and at least her tone is less formal now. “Yeah it’s me, listen I wanted to ask if you could come here now if you can, but it’s totally fine if you can’t make it.” Maybe it’s the shock of hearing someone from your past, or my shaky voice that she agrees to come without any other questions and I tell her my address in the calmest pace I can.

Until she arrives I spend my time overthinking on how bad of an idea it was to call her, and why would she even bother herself with my problems anymore, like who in their right mind would hurry in the middle of the night to heal someone from their past that they tried so hard to abandon. But careful knocks on the door save me from my thoughts. I open the door and for a moment think that the option of bleeding to death at least could’ve saved me from the awkwardness of this, before I manage to say “Thank you so much for coming, I really didn’t want to trouble you”, she replies “Not that I love getting surprise calls at midnight but what’s the occasion?” and then she takes a look at me with her perfect hazel eyes and sees it, the blood soaking my shirt and says “holy fuck Ri, what did… what happen- it doesn’t matter now”

It takes her only few moments to get into her other sleeve, the doctor she was trained to be, giving orders and analyzing the situation, only stopping once to curse me under her breath that I should’ve told her to bring her medical stuff and that I’m a lucky bastard that she didn’t come totally unprepared. Then her inner doctor takes charge completely. I tell myself maybe outer, you know it’s who she is now, heal first talk later that’s what she does.

“Take your shirt off”, I obey without making a snarky comment because even I can tell it would be inappropriate. I can’t really describe the process of her stitching me up, because I’ve never been a big fan of surgeries to the point I even skip them when they come up in movies, and maybe beside how pain makes everything hazy, I can’t wrap my head around the idea of her hands on me.

When it’s done she gives me some final instructions and tells me to don’t move from where I’m sitting for at least half an hour. Then standing in front of me without taking a step, she looks at her watch and her gaze lingers to the door and I know she’s thinking about leaving, but decides against it, at least for now.

“So are you gonna tell me how this happened?”, she asks gesturing towards my wound that is now stitched and bandaged. I guess I’m too exhausted for anything but the truth so I say “I was working on a case, and it didn’t end well.” She glares at me, “Well I can see that clearly, but how did it turn that way?”, “my client was a small business going to court against a big company, I had some dirty things on them but they weren’t enough proof so I was looking for more and they sent someone to scare me off I think, but um I tried to resist and it escalated quickly and I got a nice killer knife wound.” “It wasn’t fatal,” she says, “What?” I reply a bit shocked, “I said it wasn’t fatal, the knife didn’t go that deep, what? You thought I could fix a fatal cut with couple of stiches?” to that I mumble that I really trust her abilities and she rolls her eyes. I think at this point we’re past the formal greetings and small talks and now that the crisis is over she seems done with my shit so she continues “So you’ve finally fulfilled your dreams and became the woman you’ve always aspired to be, a detective/lawyer hunting down bad guys and giving them what they deserve” she doesn’t even try to hide the bitterness in her voice, and so if we’re going there now, I won’t try to hide it from mine either, “And you’ve became a doctor, a life you have dreamed of from the beginning, never even thinking to be anything else.”

She sighs and drops to the couch in front of me, “So this is the time that you’ve finally decided to talk about it.” It doesn’t sound like a question, more like a statement. Maybe being in pain and exhausted sharpens your edges and makes the things you’ve hidden carefully to snap free because I can’t hold back when I say: “Says the one who just abandoned me overnight and decided to part ways forever without even a heads up.” The thing is I’ve imagined having this conversation so many times in so many different situations, that it actually happening doesn’t feel real, it feels like another one of those fantasies in my head except she is really here now, and my pulse is betraying me by beating so damn fast.

“I didn’t abandon you, If I had you’d still be bleeding.” And a part of me wants to just accept that and move on and embrace her, because I’ve missed her, hell I’ve missed her so much I want to hug her and never let go, and we have a lot to catch up on too, five years worth of memories. Five years that we were no more than outside observers in each other's lives, but the stronger part, the part that’s been hurting ever since wants to have this conversation, needs to have this conversation or else I would never stop imagining it in my head.

“Well maybe our definition of abandonment is a bit different, ‘cause changing your life course and treating me like a stranger and pretending like all our planning and dreaming for future never happened sure as hell fits in mine.”

“I never treated you like a stranger, you were the one who decided to not talk to me and have anything to do with me anymore and cut contact completely”

“Because I couldn’t do it like that anymore, like I was just another one in your new class, as if we didn’t have history, like what we had wasn’t something more. We used to joke about how disconnected we felt from them, not because we hated them because we were different, or at least I thought you were.”

“People change Riley.”

And for a few moments neither of us backfires anything else to the other, and my mind finds time to wonder for the thousandth time why we didn’t even call each other all these years. But well one of the things that made us close at first was how stubborn we were. I remember clearly when there was a debate competition in school and we were a team and crashed the whole thing. Beside our passion for the matter we were unstoppable, to the point that each match ended to the other team being like “dear god just let it go it’s over”, and remembering those days even now in the midst of this makes me a little calmer.

I can’t help but ask, “Was it because I tried to-“ before letting me finish she says “God no, you think I could transfer in a day? And for what? Not everything is about you, or what you do or what you want, I thought five years would be enough time to learn that”, and well I’ve always known that it was a coincidence that those two things happened successively. But deep down I couldn’t shove the idea away that it was all because she wanted to get away from me, that it was my fault and I shouldn’t have done it after all. I know that doubt has led me to be selfish, and to give up on trying to fix it, and to suffer more, and I don’t know how to defend it (or if I even should). Throughout all these years I’ve also imagined getting the answer to this question countless times, and how I’ll finally be at peace if I got this answer, but now I don’t feel relived as much as I wanted to.

“So you thought of me in those years?” I say in a hopeful tone still desperately clenching to this conversation, as if all this could be solved just if we have this talk. “Way to avoid my point right? You haven’t changed a bit, reckless and careless and always holding on to things that don’t matter much to the extent that you nearly got yourself killed,” but she says this in a kinder tone than the previous one, maybe even with a hint of worry in her voice. I finally give up on trying to get this conversation to fix it all, and decide that we’re too tired now, so I reply “I thought you said it wasn’t fatal.” A pause then, “It’s really late, are you going to leave now?” I hope that she can hear the silent ‘stay’ in what I just said. “I don’t think I can get a taxi now, can I? considering the time, and I don’t have the energy to explain all this to someone and wake them to pick me up”, “you can stay if you want?” and for all we’ve been through, I’m relieved when she agrees.

//end of part 1

->part 2