"We should love, but not fall in love.
Because everything that falls, gets broken."
—Taylor Swift 

C H A P T E R  0 9| Through The Truth

There was something about the way he said those words that made me unsure of a lot of things.

"What do you mean, Drew?" I asked; realizing something had happened that I wasn't aware of.

"Do you still believe in us?" His voice tore me away from my thoughts.

"Well, can I?" I retorted; my voice sounding nothing like before anymore.

He didn't say anything for moments, making me grow more and more irritated— mostly because I was sensing something was wrong, but also because I wasn't particularly fascinated about getting a detention for arriving late in class. Given, detention was Ms. Joanna's favorite punishment.

"Something happened between Stacey and me," he said, breaking the silence.

Every fiber of my body stiffened. I held my breath, dreading what was to come next. "A month before our break up," he added.

"W-what happened?"

He sighed; then his tone changed—like a teacher's, when he ends an intense lecture and announces 'that's it for today'.

"Let's... let's not talk about this."

Without even seeing him right now, I could bet he was having second thoughts about disclosing whatever it was.

"What's wrong, Drew?"

"Eloine, maybe you wouldn't like to hear this.." It felt like he put an effort to enunciate each syllable. "It's part of why I agreed on ending our relationship. It's part of why I left."

His lines lit something much similar to fire inside me. What on earth so wrong had happened with Stacey to make him leave? I won't lie, I was already guessing worst things.

"What. The. Hell. Happened, Andrew Evanston?" My teeth were clenched much like my fists; and there was this searing anger that had never dominated my voice before.

The images on my head of the possibilities were making me want to scream, when he spilled out, "We did it."

I gasped. Not like I wasn't already guessing; but his clarification made the images only turn fifty times clearer. I could visualize his large room with that signature trophy shelf that his grandfather had made when he was ten. Then I could picture him lying down on the bed; his smooth, creamy brown hair messy in the most perfect sense—just like old times. Then there was Stacey's painted, red nails on his naked chest.

Boy, I didn't even need to imagine the rest; this was enough to set me off.

"Just once, though." His assurance made me want to laugh at the irony.

I remembered Stacey's hug from this morning. At that moment it felt like her entire body's touch stuck to me like dirt and mud. I could still smell her strong perfume even, or perhaps I was imagining. I couldn't tell anymore. Regardless, it made me want to wash off my body.

"Did you guys make out, too?" I demanded.

"Um.. yeah. But, it was nothing serious, or even a relationship, Eloine." He tried to reassure.

"Does it matter, man?"

My own voice startled me. I could recognize neither my tone nor the way I spoke. Why was I not crying, I wondered further. Usually even the smallest of things could make me teary eyed in no time. I was the crybaby.

So what happened now, when the worst situation of my life had entered into the picture?

"It'd mean everything if it doesn't matter, Eloine." He paused. "Eloine, when dad came at Islaire to take me to NY, I wasn't ready. But then I thought there was no reason of not leaving anyway."

I wanted to snap a lot of answers at him. I wanted to ask a lot. But suddenly I wasn't keen on hearing another sound out of his mouth.

"I never mattered, Drew, to you or anyone. It's okay to cheat." Even these words didn't provoke tears, I was surprised.

"Eloine, I didn't cheat.." His voice was laced with regret and a desperate need to quick fix everything. "I didn't mean to do it. Babe, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. Eloine I still—"

But quick fixing was so out dated. Plus I couldn't stand another word of his blabbering, so I disconnected the line.

For the next few seconds I stood in the empty hallway, trying to adjust myself to my current status: got cheated on by ex with a half-best friend.

There was a sudden change in my system though. I was not crying, I was not collapsing down on the floor. Heck, I was making funny status updates about my life on my mind.

And right now, I was looking down at my wrist watch, thinking how I still stood a chance at not getting a detention if I made a run for it. I was four minutes and twenty seconds late for Calculus. And I definitely was not giving up.

So I, Eloine Pentaris, dashed through the hallway just to catch up with some limiting functions and not getting a detention, after being cheated on and heartbroken by the greatest player of Islaire High.

Well, by 'player' I mean football player.
And no, not heartbroken. Just hurt. And broken.

——

Thankfully, I didn't get a detention slip, thanks to my past impression. And oh yeah, I did have an innocent face. So when I said I was feeling dizzy this morning, Ms. Joanna actually got up from her seat and asked if I was okay.

But then my eyes met with Stacey's, and in that moment I knew I wasn't okay. Her ocean blue eyes held the same, friendly stare. She probably didn't think I'd actually phoned Andrew.

She thought she was safe. Now I could make out why she was so desperate to make me not call him. She probably knew he'd spill the beans if I persisted.

I always believed Stacey was the only one who completely supported my relation with Drew, unlike everyone else. How many times I had blabbered my stupid worries about the relationship to her. And to think she was taking advantage.

Something I needed very much then and there was space. Space to clear my mind of all the shit. Space to accept I didn't have a half-best friend anymore, to accept he really was a past chapter.

So it was a relief to find empty benches in all the classes. It was a relief when Cyan didn't ask me why I was suddenly sitting on an empty bench, and also didn't enquire why I was upset (I bet it was written all over my face that I was pissed off).

This was what I liked the most about Cyan. I had noticed he was not the bothering type of friend who wouldn't stop pestering until you told what was wrong. If he saw you sitting alone, he'd probably leave you at your solitary. Either because he was always lost in his thoughts, or because friendship didn't matter all that much to him.

At least he didn't put false hopes; pretending to be 'besties' and then break your heart. Perhaps he valued friendship, but didn't see the utter importance of labelling it all the time.

Lunch was never my favorite period. And when I peeked inside the cafeteria, it made me not wanna go there even more. The football team and Stacey, along with her group, were all sitting together; probably celebrating someone's birthday, because there was this large black forest cake on the table. There'd eventually be a 'big' birthday party in the evening I was sure. But they had too much money to waste, so they could celebrate the same occasion twice in a day.

Peter was busy with them. And the only other company I could prefer, Cyan or Amelia, were both missing from the cafeteria. I had not seen Amelia the entire day, and Cyan was nowhere to be found.

It didn't matter much though; I could really use some isolation.

The best spot for isolation in the school was the garden. It was behind the playground, and you had to take this narrow, grassy path to get there. It was not actually a garden. Wild trees and bushes had just grown over there—unwanted and unattended.

Such places would be a hotspot for any high schooler, actually, because deserted places were best for smoking or drinking. But in our case, the school buildings were towering over the garden on either sides. Anyone through an open window could take a peek at you. Since our teachers and hall monitors loved peeking through these windows for such activities, the garden was something everyone disliked.

Nevertheless a burnt cigarette or a can of beer could be found every now and then, with obscene, vulgar words about teachers chalked on the walls.

I rarely came here as well. But right now, I could give anything to be alone. However, the garden already had a guest when I arrived. He was surprised to see me as much I was. His expression reminded me of Nick and Hannah, who were caught making out quite intensely by Mr. Turner last year.

There in the middle of the garden I was met with Cyan; he was surrounded by newspaper, sheets, glue, color tubes, paint brushes. The sight contrasted overwhelmingly with the damp, dull garden.

He was painting this picture—a newspaper art to be precise, of a girl's face, all in black and white. Her hair was falling over her face, covering the right portion completely. She was looking down, and her eyelashes were perfectly shaped. Just like his painting, the girl in the picture was as beautiful.

I couldn't take my eyes off it. But suddenly he snatched the paper from the ground, and got up in his feet.

"Wow Cyan, it's so beautiful..let me see it!" I cried.

"Eloine, please go." His greenish blue eyes held a cold, stern expression, as his eyes pierced through mine.

I should have left.

But I should have cried this morning too; yet I hadn't. So I walked closer to him, and lightly wrapped my hands around his wrist, which was holding the painting.

His hand shivered slightly by my touch. "Why are you so secretive about your talent?" I asked; our eyes never leaving each other's.

"Why are you so secretive about your heartbreaks, either?" He murmured. My eyes widened in surprise. "I think it were you who told me we needn't be heroes."

He tucked a lock of my hair behind my ears, and suddenly I got very much aware of the velocity with which my heart was racing.
I took the painting from his hand, not by curiosity anymore. Just to distract myself.

But he held my chin, making me look up. I could not remember the last time my heart had raced this fast.

"You're looking really disturbed from this morning."

Wow. I never caught him looking at me in class. How had he noticed?

I shrugged, trying to ignore the vivid pictures of Stacey and Drew on my mind. Each picture felt like a slam on my face.

"You can talk to me if there's something, Eloine." He put a hand on my shoulder. "What happened?"

"I just lost this stupid war, Cyan," I stated. My eyes staring out blankly. "I don't understand why I was fighting in the first place."

The more I spoke, the more it reminded me of the old times, and the more it made my voice turn heavy.

"The war was already won by someone else."

And then I felt hot, prickling tears streaming down my eyes. My shoulders shook vigorously as I cried, just how Andrew's shoulders trembled when he laughed.

The painting was still on my hand when Cyan's strong grip around my shoulders steadied me.

"But I lost the war." I said through a creaked voice, my eyes looking up at him. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes looked sad.

"Ssh.. there's no war," he said, suddenly pulling my body towards his, and hugging me tightly. I relaxed in his arms. It felt so good.

"Why fight a war when you already have your kingdom?"

****

Above is there image of Cyan's newspaper painting.

Sorry about the late update. I was in a vacation, plus there's exam ahead. So till 20th, I might not update.

Also, a very Happy New Year to you all! Despite everything, I can say I learnt how to create infinites among the zeroes last year. I learnt how not to get bothered by everything and everyone like I used to.

How was your last year? What did you learn about life?

Also, thoughts on Eloine's heartbreak? And Stacey? Do vote, comment, and share if you like this chapter. You can follow me for more updates xx

P.s. taste of heartbreak always hurts.