Happily exhausted

She’d cupped her hands around her mouth and nose, trying not to make a sound. Her tears didn’t stop. They kept getting crumpled over her eyelashes, seeping in between her nails and finger tips, but they didn’t stop. She stood outside the cracked door of her classroom, listening to what her best friends were saying. They didn’t like her and that was clear. He was sitting there as well, looking disgruntled with the conversation, but not saying a word in her defence. He threw his gaze around the classroom and his eyes caught hers. He was surprised, she could tell. She could always tell. He moved as if to come after her, but she turned and walked away. Her best friends still didn’t know that throughout their conversation about the “devil,” that the devil was eavesdropping. And he didn’t enlighten them either.

She held onto the railings and wept her way down the stairs. She found the media lab unlocked and hid away until it was time for the next class. She couldn’t afford to miss her next class. Her parents would be notified of it. She cleaned up and walked back. Her friends called out to her, making space for her to sit with them.

“I’m going up to the front today. Need to pay attention,” she smiled. S, A, D exchanged knowing looks. She turned around and let her smile drop. Sequestered into a corner seat, she took out her journal. She kept writing and didn’t see him sitting beside her. He just sat there, smelling uniquely of spice and snow.

She was leaving after class, evading everyone, when he caught up to her.

“I didn—”

“It’s okay. You get to have your opinions without apologising for them.” She was still smiling. Now, though, it took a little effort because she didn’t mean what she was saying.

“But I didn—”

“It’s really okay. Others find me a little overwhelming. I get it. They must have reached their limits with the drama as well.” He looked like he was about to refuse. He didn’t. He nodded. He walked away.

That night she couldn’t sleep.

She went back day after day, retreating. Withdrawing. Leaving home and coming back. He was getting worried, she could tell. Her friends suspected that something was wrong. They didn’t broach it though.

She’d started using earphones. Now she couldn’t see or hear them. Or him. Every time a song ended, there was a beat of silence, outside and inside her mind. And she could hear a little bit of the world around her. A world she’d tried to shut out.

She didn’t try to learn the lyrics of the songs. She just heard them. She didn’t want to understand someone else’s problems, just wanted to know that there were others in the same boat as her.

He still sat beside her. She’d looked up once or twice. She was afraid to hear him talk. So she increased the volume on her phone and continued writing. She wrote until her hands cramped and the bell rang. She waited for him to move out of the bench so she could leave as well. She was rushing out when the best friend brigade cornered her. They looked like they had a lot to say. She was starting to get anxious. He was frustrated that he couldn’t help her, she could tell.

“What are you doing acting all emo? Everyone’s asking us what’s wrong” S was sniping, not even bothered to pretend anymore that she was friendly. And this was the same girl who’d passed off of our sad girl’s notes.

“It’s just that this all seems very dramatic, no?” That was A, always the voice of reason. The always hungover one who needed the devil to hold her hair back on bad days.

D didn’t say anything, making it very clear that this didn’t concern her anymore.

The session went on for more than twenty minutes after which they left, a job well done. A job of riddling her with innumerable wounds.

She slowly made her way out, not breaking down. Not yet. She put on her earphones and at every change of song, she’d increase the volume a bit. She’d completely lost herself and took no notice of the world outside. She was deaf to it.

She knew he would be downstairs and waiting for her. He was beating himself up, she could tell. She smiled when she saw him and turned down the volume.

“I may cry now,” she whispered, her wavering smile falling off at the edges.

“Okay.” He looked determined. He held out his arms. She collapsed into them and let herself sob. Blotchy, wet sobs.

“I-I didn’t k-know I was th-th-that  pain-painf-ful to be a-around.”

“No. No. Stop it. Shut up. You’re not. You’re fine. You’re fine.” He kept murmuring. He’d stop for a while, then pick it up again.

They remained that way until the lamppost they were leaning on thrummed when the lights were put on. She moved and they broke apart. He looked as bad as she did. Both were exhausted. But it was a happy kind of exhaustion. They’d be okay tomorrow.