You sit beside me on the bench, I am in shock. Where have you been all this time? You look different, and you don't feel the same. Hair is shorter than five years ago, when you literally walked out the door and I never saw you again. Everything is different, but your smile is the same.
“How are you?” you ask, voice calm, steady. Your light gray shirt almost looks white in in the blinding sunlight, denim jeans a little worn at the knees, and white chucks that look like the ones you always used to college.
I don't know how to react. I don't know you anymore. “Dead inside,” I decide to answer after a long pause as the incredulous look fades from my face.
“That sounds familiar,” You grin.
“You don't,” I counter, looking away from a smile I thought I had loved once. Something about the way you look at me makes me think you know your magic has worn off.
“No more pining for a love that never was?” you ask, a sad glint in your usually mischievous eyes. They used to be so full of disdain, and disappointment at the world around you, so full of pain waiting to be passed on to me. I would take it, all of it. I didn't care. I thought I loved you.
I shake my head, “I never loved you,” I say resolutely, knowing you'll see through my lie. You know me too well, you always have.
“You did,” You state, so sure of yourself, you over confident, obnoxious bastard.
I laugh, “I was stupid.” I look up at the tree shading us just like it did when we were in college, “It wasn't real love.”
It's your turn to laugh, “How was it not real?”
“You never loved me back,” I declare, deadpan. I look at you this time, trying to finally see through the facade, the camera filters and the pedestals I put in place for you.
You fidget nervously, the same way you do when you find out you're wrong about something and don't want to ever admit it.
“You don't have to say anything,” I say, still looking at you intently, watching you squirm for once, letting my gaze fall heavily on the guilt I see simmering to the surface, “It's done. I've figured out why you fascinated me so much.”
“Oh?” You raise a condescending eyebrow and I want to rip it off with my bare hands.
“Yes,” I nod, looking at the building we used to call our school, “You made me live with the side of me I never wanted to see. Every single demon and monster in me, you brought them to the surface, you taught me to care for them, to feed them. Then I saw that they were your demons and monsters, too.”
You sit in silence, I don't know if I'm making sense or if you're listening. Maybe you're doing that zoning out thing you're really good at again. But I continue anyway.
“I was afraid,” I admit, “I was so afraid of what I had become, afraid of all this... this darkness you so readily set forth in front of me like a banquet, like a badge I should be proud of. I was so afraid of these monstrosities hidden inside me that your voice was the only thing that could save me. I couldn't save myself, I never tried. Then you left, like that,” I snap my fingers, “And there I was grappling with whatever you had called out, making you the inspiration of my misery, my sadness, my heartbreak... all the things I wrote down. I made you a beacon, and all you did was laugh at me.”
You try to wrap your arm around my shoulder like you used to when you'd break my heart and I'd let you haphazardly stitch it back together. But I shrug you off.
“I'm not letting you fix anything this time,” I stand, “I did that myself. I don't need you or your memory anymore. I never loved you, because real love is returned.”
I walk away, decisively, finally.
I don't look back, not anymore.
You were the horrible boy who made me laugh once. That was it. That is all.
