The tension that existed between the two was a poison that, slowly but surely, corrupted the well-being of each soul. He, with his deceptive facade and false disengagement, and she, with her worries and unsettled ire.
With any other individual, nothing was amiss. The best that these two could hope for when together was silence in the presence of the other, alacrity and frustration aside. Whatever longing each one had for the other’s company and warmth was suppressed by the festering wounds of deception and resentment, growing in cadence with a ticking time bomb that would soon consume them both.
Sometimes, we fall in love with a coward.
Sometimes, we love someone who casts us aside for the sake of pursuing something that is, ultimately, more attracting by some virtue of a deceitfully physical illusion rather than substance of the emotional.
Sometimes, we are betrayed by those closest to us–for, no matter how virtuous or self-serving their ambition is (especially out of “true love”), they will do whatever it takes to see their goal completed, regardless of who may get hurt.
And, strangely, that’s alright.
Because, sometimes, it takes these to grow into something suited for better than these troubles.
Not every day is going to be bright and cheerful, and there are no promises that the next day will be as such either. It’s knowing how to personally get through the struggles of any challenging moments and the willpower to push onward, regardless of the bruises and scars received in the wake of it all, that help us gain the strength to see ourselves through to the eventual dawn of a brighter day.
“Don’t you see it yet?”, she screamed, “all this time, she’s been playing both of us in whatever game she has because it benefits her, and you’ve been too swept up in this little romance of yours to see what it’s doing to everyone! Please, I beg of you, don’t be foolhardy about this and get us both killed before we have a chance to act!”
Samuel stood visibly shaken by Miranda’s confession, ostensibly horrified by the things he was listening to at the time. His breath caught and choked his throat as he struggled to put the pieces together.
Eric shifted awake, disappointed to find himself back in his darkened bedroom. The dream had provided a feeling of comfort and relief that couldn’t, otherwise, be found in his regular life–particularly considering all that had unfolded back in the flight hangar.
Just a dream, he thought.
He readjusted himself in the, oddly, comfortable bed so that he might sleep. Laying his head upon the pillows, he inhaled and exhaled deeply to release whatever had a stronghold on his mind. All which was vexing would be waiting for him in the morning–for now, he sought to be carried off in sleep.
The group of individuals took their places in the wide open room, as the atmosphere of the room settled into the regular hustle bustle of the class’s pre-routine. The room was alive with regular conversation, hushed whispers, and boisterous laughter. All of these things proved to thrive in a terrain that, once replete with the true spirit of camaraderie, lay in a fractured rift of deceit and resentment.
Worse yet, no attempt was made to mend said rift. Those responsible carried on as though nothing was wrong, and the rest were too wrapped up in angered complaints to take action.
The wheels spun faster and faster down the hill as the bike sped onward. There was a curve that would shortly slope upward, yes, but the leviathan of a mountain that awaited afterwards was worth the uphill pedal. Knowing this, Blake moved upwards with one bicycle stroke at a time, forgetting about the physical exertion on his body as he made it to the top of the mound.
He looked down upon the descending path with a mixture of familiar wonder and apprehension before breathing in and riding down, all previous worries and concerns consumed by the literal thrill ride.