21. Violet
21
VIOLET
Spending the past week with Isaac has felt like an out-of-body experience in the best way possible. The main school building is closed over the break, so we only had access to the dining hall and the dorm buildings. It made sense to both of us for me to keep going to Isaac’s room, and we fell into a routine easily.
Every morning, I would text him when I woke up, and then, about an hour later, I’d show up at his door. He kept it unlocked so I could let myself in, and the simple act of just walking into his room every morning brought me a sense of bliss I didn’t think I would ever experience. It felt like a scene I’d imagined for us when we were older, sharing a home and space with each other. Even though I know that’s not meant for us anymore, it still felt nice to imagine it.
The first day I went to his room, there was another chair at his desk, and he told me he had stolen it from Luke’s room so that we could both use the desk. Initially, I thought it would be difficult to sit so close to him, to work together again, especially on a joint project, but we fell back into our old way of doing it easily. We always studied with a timer, taking short breaks every thirty minutes, and when I got to Isaac’s room that day, he already had one set up like he’d been waiting for me to get here before he started doing anything. We alternated between catching up on homework and working on the project. It was easy to tell that Isaac had been spending more time on it than he let on because he already had a few seconds of footage completed.
The clip starts with the two characters sitting next to each other on a train, and then one ends up falling asleep on the morning commute and leaning their head on the other. When Isaac showed me what he’d done, I was stunned. He managed to capture what I wrote so well, the early morning light coming through the window, the packed train with the two characters slightly off to the side, and the frame gradually closing in on them to centre them as the protagonists of our story. The characters were exactly how I’d imagined them, too, and I don’t know how he managed to draw them so perfectly based on the few notes I’d given him. Watching him work on it throughout the week was fascinating, and I couldn’t help but compliment him every time he showed me a new update.
Now it’s Saturday, and everyone else is coming back to school tomorrow and I don’t know how to feel about it. This week with him didn’t feel like we were back in that bubble we created in the past - it felt more like a snow globe instead. It feels like something I want to store in my memory forever, take it out whenever I want to remember how good we used to be together, how well we balance each other out. It feels like something I only want to let myself see once a year, so it doesn’t hurt too much.
When I showed up at his room today, he wasn’t set up at the desk, and Luke’s chair was gone. I approached where he was sitting on the bed, and he explained before I could even ask.
“I wanted to make sure it was in his room before he got back.”
“Oh, right.”
“Sorry, I probably should have told you I’m not going to do anything today.”
“No, it’s okay. I was getting bored, too.”
He laughs softly and then shifts back on his bed, gesturing towards his laptop. “I was just going to watch a movie.”
The image of him sitting on his bed, laptop next to him, with the opening credits of a movie paused, just makes me think of all the times we watched movies together. I think about being in our separate rooms, his face in the corner of my screen, and the way he would count down from three so we could press play in sync and watch together. I think about him getting so excited at the end of each movie, pointing out his favourite scenes or particular animation techniques he noticed and how cute he looked when he was rambling.
But I try not to think too hard about the one time we watched a movie, and while I was half asleep, he confessed that he liked me. This completely changed our relationship and eventually led us to where we are now.
I really want to watch a movie with him again.
“Can I watch it with you? ”
His eyebrows lift, and his mouth opens a little as he blinks rapidly, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He stutters a bit before answering,
“Yeah, of course.” He shuffles around on his bed, moving the laptop from one side to the other and then to his lap. Then, he shifts forward so he’s sat on the edge. “Did you…?”
It took me a second to realise he didn’t know where to sit or where to put his laptop so that we could both see it. I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable in his own room, so I suggest something that might be selfish of me, but I want to know if it’s the same for him now as it is for me.
Since we’ve started becoming friends again, Isaac has been letting me take the lead, never pushing for too much, and letting me set the pace for our friendship. But I want to speed it up now. I’m tired of acting like everything about us is brand new when, at one point, I thought I knew him better than I knew myself.
“I can sit next to you if you don’t mind,” I say it softly, not wanting to pressure him too much. If he doesn’t want me to then I’ll sit on the chair and we can set the laptop between us.
“I don’t mind.” He says quickly, moving back to sit on one side of the bed against the wall.
He settles the laptop on his lap and then pats the space next to him before closing his eyes and shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose over his glasses. I hold back a smile as I put my bag on the desk and climb onto the bed, settling in next to him but still leaving enough of a gap between us that I won’t completely lose all my senses. He exhales deeply, like he’s been holding his breath for a few seconds.
“Ready?” he asks, his fingers hovering over the space bar, his head turned to me, and I nod.
“Three, two, one.”
We watch the movie in silence, only the sound of small laughs and little gasps now and then breaking it. Somehow, we end up sitting closer to each other, and by the end, our legs are pressed together, my hands tucked between my thighs to stop me from reaching for his.
Being this close to him feels like second nature, like how we’re always meant to be, and I’ve missed it so much. I think he has, too, because his hands are curled into fists at his side, like he’s having to restrain himself from reaching out for me. We seem to be stuck in this weird limbo where it feels like we both want to do something, make some kind of move, go back to how we were, but neither of us wants to be the first to do it.
Isaac keeps the movie playing until the credits have finished; he always watches them because he thinks the people who work behind the scenes don’t get enough appreciation for the work they do. I told him once that I couldn’t wait for the day I’d see his name on a screen, too, and it’s still true. I don’t know what’s happening with his parents or his future, but I hope he can achieve that dream. I hope I can be there to see it, too.
He closes the laptop, moving it to his side of the bed before clearing his throat.
“So, did you like it?”
“I loved it.”
We’re not looking at each other. My eyes are focused on the places our legs are touching, thigh against thigh, and I don’t want to be the first one to move away.
In my peripheral, I can see him nodding his head, his hands still clenched but less tightly now. I turn slightly to look at him, and his eyes are closed, so I take the time to catalogue his features. It’s the closest we’ve been to each other, the most physical contact we’ve had since we broke up, and I miss being able to count the freckles on his face. I miss the way I would sweep his hair off his forehead. I miss how I would nudge his glasses down his nose so that I could see his beautiful, green eyes. I miss the way I would push his glasses back up when I wanted to kiss him.
ONE YEAR AGO
Isaac takes his glasses off, placing them on the desk in between us as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He shuts his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, and I realise I’ve never seen them properly without his glasses before.
“You have really pretty eyes.”
“What?” He lets out a soft laugh, lifting his glasses, but I place my hand over his to stop him.
“No, wait, let me look.”
I lean over the desk, closing the distance between us and bringing my face closer to his. Of course, I know that his eyes are green; it’s one of the first things I noticed about him all those years ago, but now, up close, I can see that there’s a ring of gold around them that makes them even more beautiful.
He looks ethereal.
I take this chance to look over the rest of his face, too. The small freckles dotted around his nose that look like a constellation of stars I want to draw my finger across. The slight indents on the sides of his nose from his glasses that I want to smooth out. The upward curve of his lips as he gives me a soft smile, and I have to look away before I start thinking about anything else to do with his lips. When I look back up at his eyes, his pupils are wide, and I can see his eyes darting around my face, taking in my features, too.
“Can I kiss you?”
I don’t think I heard him properly.
“What?”
“Can I kiss you, jaanu?”
I look over his face once more, wondering how he read my mind. His eyes are completely focused on mine, and I glance back down at his lips again, nodding my head without even realising. He leans closer, and I do the same, both of us tilting our heads to the side.
“Are you sure?”
This time I know I’m nodding, and I lean over the desk more, completely out of my chair now as he does the same.
“I’m sure,” I tell him, and the sincerity in his gaze has me closing my eyes as I wait for my life to change.
It’s the softest of touches, barely there, but I can feel it absolutely everywhere. It’s like I’m both completely in and out of my body. Every single nerve in my body is alive, concentrated on the place where his mouth is on mine, a place that no one has ever touched before and no one else ever will.
It always has to be him.
I keep my eyes closed as I feel his hand cover my cheek, his thumb stroking across it as he presses his lips to mine again softly. My hand covers his wrist, my fingers running up it until they cover his, and try to find the gaps in between them. I slide my fingers between his, and they fit perfectly like we’re statues cut from the same slab of stone.
He pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead to mine, and lets out a shaky breath. I already miss the feeling of his mouth on mine. Now I understand why it’s always such a pivotal moment in books, why the main characters always put so much into that first kiss, and how it changes everything.
I don’t know how we went so long without doing it, don’t know if I can ever go back to a time when we didn’t.
I don’t think I’ll ever recover.
When I open my eyes, he’s already looking at me, and I notice how his eyes dart down to my lips again and then back up to my eyes. He’s smiling again, so bright and beautiful that it takes my breath away, and I wish I could always see him like this. I wish that I could always be the reason for it.
His hand is still covering my cheek, and our fingers are still locked together, both of us soothing each other.
“Jaanu, jaanu, jaanu,” he says softly, barely a whisper and it sounds like a prayer.
I close the distance this time, hoping he can hear the words I’m scared to say.
The urge to lean my head on his shoulder, to just rest on him for a second, to feel that familiar comfort, is so strong. But then I think about how we just watched a movie together for the first time, and I couldn’t even hold his hand. I couldn’t lean on him, couldn’t touch him properly, couldn’t link our fingers together, and feel like he was mine . I just had to settle for leg against leg, and I can feel the sting of tears in my eyes.
I push myself off the bed, get to my feet, and clamber for my bag on his desk. In my rush, it falls off and catches on the handle for the top drawer. When I yank it, the drawer opens.
I hear Isaac scrambling off the bed, and then he’s right next to me as my hands reach for the stack of birthday cards. He tries to close the drawer, but it’s too late. I’m already dropping my bag and pulling out the cards.
“You kept them?” I ask, unable to hide the way my voice is shaking, just like my hands are.
I feel Isaac move closer to me, that change in the air, that magnetic pull, and his hand hovers over mine as I go through them. He wants to take them from me, but he won’t.
“Of course I did,” he whispers like he’s scared to admit it.
“Why did you keep them?”
“Why do you think, Violet?” It comes out strained.
He drops his hand from next to mine, taking a step back from me as if distance will make anything about this easier.
“You broke up with me, Isaac.” I remind him because he’s the reason we’re even having this conversation right now.
“I didn’t want to.”
I finally drag my eyes away from the cards to look at him and he’s staring at me with the saddest expression I’ve ever seen.
“If you’ll hear me out, I want to explain what happened.”