sapphire stones [poetical mess]

far too young to die

The story was never about me anyway. I wasn't even the protagonist in my life. But it never really mattered anyway.

He was definitely someone you wouldn't have noticed at first. And for a long time, I really haven't.

He was blended in, so regular and normal, that it felt as if he fell out of a book manuscript for normal teenage boys. He was much like the main protagonists friend with nothing special but snarky remarks. His hair was cut short, as if done by himself, messy and dark brown, matching caramel skin. The pools of his eyes, like lakes of spilled coffee, as the only thing you can read is depth of nothingness and this dull, dull feeling. It sounds stupid, having to describe who he was. He was lacking existence, like a character someone created when they are empty and bored.

His name was Luka, I was given that as an answer. If I were honest, I don't remember when he first entered our classroom, with him fitting in the dull white background of it. He was not from around here, as he spoke plenty languages, though he almost never spoke at all. But when he speaks, unlike the expectation of an accent given by the rummaging language in his head, he spoke perfect, textbook like British. Almost too perfect. Nothing gave him out, nothing could be read from his face, except the obvious lack of sleep that caused the purple shades under his dark eyes.

And that must have been why I started observing him so carefully. Don't get me wrong, I am no stalker, and I have other things to do. But what made me ponder was this dulling fact that all along there was this boy, whom I have never talked to, but somehow he was so marcid it was lovely. So I began noticing the habits he tried to hide with dullness. Stupid habits they truly were. He hated Math, for one. It frustrated him, which lead to one of his other habits. He would take his glasses off, or even go as far as not bringing them at all, so he couldn't see what was going on. He cracked his fingers, very often to add, which seemed to have a calming effect on him. Yet it frustrated everyone surrounding him. He picked on the edges of his black nail polish, but would fill in the holes by next day. Even though his nails were bitten down into bleeding he would cover them with layers of black polish, the same way he covered up his personality.

I had no plan of talking to him, as he didn't appear to want a conversation with anyone. Anyone at all. At least that was the plan until I saw his new habit. This habit was something he had never done so far, and it frustrated me. I had seen it happen before, with other people whose hearts were on a tight string to mine. And it hurt every time.

As his fingers, with nails short and black, dragged a rubber bracelet away from his skin, for what felt like the thousandth time, I stood up. I was quick on my feet and I felt everyone's eyes dart towards me. The burning shivers went down my spine with their eyes stripping my skin down. In a matter of seconds my hand was wrapped around his wrist and his eyes snapped to mine. And the dullness disappeared for a mere moment.

It was replaced by shock and pain. The boy that never stood out finally was seen by all. Everyone could see him and everyone could see me. For those few moments it was like he allowed me to read him, like an open book. Pain. Lack of understanding. Anxiety. Stress. Lack of sleep. And then it was slammed closed. Luka pulled his wrist out of my hand. He took his single notebook, a raggedy black one, and left the pure white classroom. For once since I've noticed him, he contrasted the white. He was consumed by all the darkness inside him.

And though I have heard the bell scream at me to come back, I ran through all the doors I have seen, following the shadows in front of me. And as I followed it, the darkness had changed it's colour. For a second I wondered why I had seen such a colour, a mix of blues and greys, hues of green that formed a river... Until they lead into a sea whose center was him. Luka. His feet, raggedy black high shoes, dragged through the sea. He couldn't leave it though. It consumed him completely. I just never saw it before.

He sighed so loudly even I have heard it. Instead of calling him, I steadied myself, entering the sea of shadows by myself. My shoes sink in, the mass of it thick and sticky. In it, I found it hard to breathe in, but the scent was mint, coffee, cherry blossoms, heavy. Instead of grabbing his wrist like previously, this time I came behind him, turning him towards me.

This time he was all I could see. He was finally seen without the backround. So I hugged him. With the dark shadows swirling around us, we simply stood there. This was love, though it was not lovely.

,,Hvala*." I had heard, and I didn't need to ask what it means. It was a comforting word for me. He finally let out one of the languages he knew slip his tounge. And I've never spoken to him before.

,,You're welcome, Luka." I answered, the only thing I thought off, as I squeezed his shoulders a bit tighter to show him I was truly there for him. He was the actual protagonist in my story, wasn't he?

Well it's been five years and I really glad he was a protagonist here. We would have been too young to die then, so now we get to breathe together.

1000 word short story.

here's a challenge for all of you. take your time. days, weeks, months even - and write a short story. a thousand words only story. be proud to write it. write from the heart.

I love you all.

hvala* - thank you

Lu