A Certain Sort Of Loneliness

Highscore

The changes between them had always been subtle: this time it was unmistakable, even to outsider's. Coming in to school the next day had been hard, to say the least - what to say, what to mention, what to forget and what to ignore? It wasn't something you could just ask about, after all.

'You nearly kissed me that evening. You saw such a vulnerable ugly 'me' and yet still you nearly kissed me. Why?'

Of course, Leon doesn't quite understand it himself - they're both immature with their feelings, overthinking and over-rationalising themselves when challenged with their own emotion. And who can blame them, for not wanting to come to a conclusion when they only have half the story? A relationship is, by definition, not the ideas of one but the interaction of many, after all. The ambiguity seems to eat up at them, frustrating each of them to no end.

(They'd have it no other way)

The undertones between them are tangible, even if their words seem the same - conversations play out no differently than usual between them and yet-

'You haven't touched me since that day, not even to pass me a pencil'

'You've been giving off such strange feelings, and I feel strange, too - so I get scared and jumpy and afraid whenever you're around'

'But you haven't done anything wrong so it must be my fault since both of us are feeling so wrong'

'What can I do to fix this? Please, tell me how'

'I don't want to be afraid of you'

(Yet he fears him most)

(Yet neither of them have hurt one another - not through actions nor through their words)

(Yet still-)

Their pain comes from such a confusing place - uncertain, insecure - neither wants this, neither knows how to change or how to build from the ground up. Our towers are built by our surroundings, the influences of others shaping the bricks that support us - yet where to begin on a tower built by as little as two? They have no choice but to use their own building blocks; dismantling the spires and arches within themselves to construct a shaky foundation - wobbling and swaying in the winds of this new change.

It's again that Leon's messages break the silence between them - another invitation (something that makes Emil wonder if that is perhaps his way of clearing the air, an act of peacekeeping that he learnt some time in his life). There's a contradictory reluctance to accept, as always - a want to meet, a want to isolate, to go or not to go-- a lingering feeling of uneasiness remains regardless of the choice he makes. Realistically however, there's only one option he'd be willing to pick. Of course, he could say no, but the stagnating regret of doing nothing at all would hurt more than the fear he forces himself to face by saying yes.

If it were anyone else, an invitation like this to simply meet up in town would've seemed 'normal' - still a large step to take in the eyes of anxiety-fueled Emil, who finds stepping out of his room an ordeal worth feeling nauseous over.

Begrudgingly, he accepts - anxious, anticipating, awaiting.

The feeling doesn't go away, of course, and his mind is still reeling on what this day will turn out to be even as he waits at their pre-arranged meeting spot. It's not that he's not thought that this might be a date - he just can't allow himself the thought that it might be true. After all, they were...friends. Or, at least, something like that. He doesn't know what they are anymore, though - come to think of it - he never has. Somehow, their relationship has never seemed platonic - that's not to say that there was some bizarre attraction right away, it was just....weird. He doesn't know how to explain it - he's still grappling with whatever his current feelings are, and his previous ones aren't any less confusing. He tries comparing his and Leon's connection with his and Lili's - even Michelle or Matthew - but the inexplicable barrier of something remains.