When He Is Not Listening

I never believed the term "being in love is the most joyous feeling a human could feel." It was just weird to think that you could actually feel your pulse quicken, to feel like you were having trouble breathing, or hear your own heartbeat drummed in your ears when your loved one was around. It had always been me, myself, and I all the time. I'm not saying that I'm asexual, for I did have a little crushes here and there. But the word love itself had been spoken so many times that it had lost its meaning to me.

That was what I thought before I met Drew. Drew was twenty, young, confident, and blunt. It was still crystal clear to me how enchanted I was the first time I laid my eyes on him. He was magical, beautiful, and lyrical. And then he started to speak, so calm and steady, that it was almost impossible not to close your eyes and savor his voice.

Once upon a time, I was seventeen. I remembered it was a Tuesday when I walked home from school and it was a quite nice day in October. The leaves were so brightly colored before they had lost it altogether. The wind blew by friendlily and I was glad that I had chosen to walk instead of taking bus. People were everywhere. Some were sitting alone on benches reading, some were jogging, and some couples were just simply taking a walk holding hands.

I passed some groups of people, savoring the coolness of the autumn breeze. Then I saw a guy skating. He was alone, yet he seemed to enjoy what he was doing. The first thing I noticed about him was his eyes. I know that what I’m about to say is cheesy, but I had never seen a pair of orbs so beautiful before. They seemed to sparkle under the sunlight, and it amazed me how someone's eyes could look like the color of bee's honey. His hair, so silky and mesmerizing, had the very similar color with his eyes that it was almost impossible to look away.

I had always hated arrogant people who did everything only for a show-off. And in my world, guys who actually were good in sports appeared to be that kind of people. But that wasn't the first thing that crossed in my mind when I saw him. All I knew was he was beautiful. Not cool, not handsome, not pretty, not hot, not cute. Beautiful. He really was. It was like I was whipped, lasso'd, enchanted. I just couldn't take my eyes off of him. I knew I wouldn't even get the chance to know him after this, but a stare wouldn't do any harm.

I was having some happy time noticing him when suddenly, he fell. Hard. I let out a loud sound which appeared to be a gasp, and before I knew it I had ran as fast as I could to make sure that he was okay.

"Are you hurt?"

Silence.

I knew this was wrong to feel such a feeling in a case like this, but I couldn't help but feeling excitement of having to be near him was rising within me.

He was looking down at the ground. I began to panick, but then he looked up at me with a small smile crept on his face, and all of sudden it felt like the world had stopped spinning. God, I swore I was having trouble to breathe.

He snapped me out of my trance with his warm, music-ish laugh. I watched him in both wonder and adoration as he tipped his head back laughing, bending his head up the clear blue sky. People didn't lie when they said some chuckles could be the melody for the ears. I had a good proof of it.

I wished I could make the time stop ticking, I really did. I would spend forever watching him like this; so confident, so carefree, like he didn't even have a damn in the world. His golden eyes sparkled more than they were before as if there were sparks fly filling up his whole iris.

"Gotcha." He finally said, his low chuckle was still in the air. Still on the ground, he looked up at me, his pink, plump lips were forming a little smile. "You were staring. Are you alright?"

It was so damn hard to focus on the conversation while I was overwhelmed by the fact that he was actually talking to me. That he was sitting down below me, that I was staring at that fine feature of him which should be pressed upon a coin. And his voice, damn it, it was so deep, smooth and rich, like freshly melted chocolate.

"I, uh..."

I didn't get to finish my sentence. He stood up then, and all of sudden I felt so small to be towered by him. He was at least six and I was no more than five.

"What is your name?"

"Autumn."

"Autumn," he murmured. "As summer into autumn slips, and yet we sooner say

"The Summer" than "the Autumn," lest, we turn the sun away."

Please be mine.

Please.

Please, I'm begging.

I didn't even know who he was, but I realized, I would willingly go wherever he went. I would willingly said whatever he wanted to hear. I would willingly do everything he desired. This stranger could ask me to write him a love song and he didn't even need to ask me twice. A good love, and old song, the moon, the stars, they got nothing on him.

"It's a poetry by--"

"Emily Dickinson." I cut him off, daring myself to look back at his chocolate orbs which put all the Georgia stars to shame at night.

I wasn't sure if I wasn't imagining this, but a slight satisfaction was written all over his face before it vanished into the thin air. He only curved a smile then, unexpectedly saying, "Why, Autumn, I think I like you already."

*

It had been two years since that day.  

Two years filled with joy and tears I had let out just for him. The love I had for him was still as red as the first time I saw him, that kind of blazing red when you put Lithium into the burning fire.

Tonight was a quite night. Drew was sitting down, scribbling down on his notes solemnly. He would never tell anyone but I knew that he liked poetry and enjoyed creating melodies. I could also tell you that he liked the color green, that he saw everything black and white, and that his mouth opened ajar when he was sleeping. He turned people's frown upside down, every word he said made it feel like everything was okay. You could ask me anything, any-freaking-thing about him and it wouldn't take me five seconds to answer it.

Now here's a fun fact: I never enjoyed doing something continually for more than two minutes. I had an attention span of a fly and I got bored fast. But Drew, he was a little exception. I never even felt bored, let alone tired staring at his beautiful chocolate orbs for minutes, even hours. Counting the colors in his eyes had definitely became my most favorite cup of tea. Since the very first time I saw him I was never really sure what to tell you about the color of his eyes because it depended on where he stood. They shone lightly when he talked and smiled and turned blazing deep when he was mad. I had always had a hard time describing his eyes, as one minute they looked like the color of dates with some shades of black and the other they were similar to lightly colored honey. In addition, you wouldn't believe how beautiful they could be when the sun was filling up the room.

"What's wrong, babe? You look distracted." He suddenly asked, looking so concern and caring, just like he always was.

Yes, distracted by you. You could just sit there doing completely nothing, and you'd still drive me insane.

"I'm okay, just didn't get enough sleep last night."

Frowns were visible on his forehead, and as fast as the lightning bolt, he gathered up all his things and carelessly shoved them in his backpack.

I watched him moved in fascination, adoring at how fluent and confident he did everything he did.

It took me two years to learn to sing desperate love songs to the motionless walls. It took me two years to learn to say “I love you” when he wasn’t listening, to learn that things didn't always go the way I wanted to go.

"Come on, I'll take you home. I don't want you to get sick."

It took me two years to realize that if you fall for someone hard enough, you wouldn't care if they're yours or not. You wouldn't care if they're yours to hold or not. You wouldn't care if they're in the arms of somebody else's as long as they're happy.

And me, I loved Drew enough to let him go.

"Okay."

Then both of them stood up, walking down the hallway holding hands, with her head on his shoulder.

Leaving me alone with a permanent scar and the pieces of my broken heart that I could never tape back.