21 of 50 Songs and Chapters Dedicated to the Friend I Lost Too Soon

Five feet apart, opposite ends of the couch. Home at last, but it doesn't feel like home. Neither of us can manage looking at each other for more than half a second. I'm humiliated of what I've done in front of him and he -- well, he doesn't know how to take it.

It's quite the phenomenon, isn't it? How human beings long to be consoled, but don't know how to console another person the way they'd like to be consoled, and for most situations, we as individuals don't know how we want to be consoled either.

Tension grew in the air like mold, sickening to the flow in our veins, I was nearly certain it would kill us if it had enough time. Between the gap of five feet was silence and only silence. It was dumb of me to think that once our muted moments became comfortable way back when, that we wouldn't have to fight to keep it anymore, because clearly, this was evidence that nothing you have lasts forever, but that the most you can do is try, and I didn't. This is what I get for that.

"You're wearing mismatched socks," Jewee mentioned, sight glued to my feet against the floor, wrapped in the socks he spoke of that went just below my ankle, one blue and the other green. "Is there a reason for that?"

I would've laughed if my emotions were at a neutral state, but they weren't, so a soft scoff was the most I could give him for that. It was funny that he was the one who caved in to the uneasiness of the quiet, and also that of all things that's what he chose to say. "You're saying that because you believe it's good luck, right? In how many interviews have you clarified that? See, I know you a little. But no, I'm not a superstitious person. I don't believe in luck. Saying it is just an expression, but I don't actually believe in it. Mismatched socks to me is either laziness or the 'I-was-in-a-rush-this-morning-and-couldn't-find-a-pair-look' which was exactly me today if you forgot. That's pretty much it."

"I think you'd be pleasantly surprised if you gave luck it's credit. You've done it once. Accident or not, might as well go with it and see what happens. Why not? It's not gonna hurt you."

"For a person who just heard I wasn't supposed to leave my own home because I'm that pathetically sick, you're really going out on a whim here, don't you think? What are you gonna do when I'm back in the hospital with mismatched socks on and the entire room is filled with this 'unluckiness' you believe in, despite the luck I'm supposed to have? Isn't that gonna ruin you?"

Him and his quirky, cutesy giggles. "I'm that confident in it to take the risk. That says a lot."

"Wow. You're already making bets over my dead body."

"No, girly. I'm just taking your mind off of what's not important to worry about," he used insisting as a shield. "Mismatch your socks. Change your hairstyle. Your wardrobe. Have fun. Do something new. Shake things up. Live a little."

I rolled my eyes, but playfully. I couldn't waste more of my life being taken aback by everything I heard. All he was doing was trying to support me. Trying to console me in a world that didn't know how to accept consolation. "Fine, fine. Point taken."

Silence returned. I've put up a conversation stopper without meaning to, yet he was the one who scattered through his brain for another file that would push away the awkwardness. It's not that I didn't try to along with him, but I was met with a dead end fairly fast, and I gave up from there leaving him to search for a topic by himself.

It was a shame too, because I was starting to think that things were going well, or at least getting better. We'd overcome one silent obstacle, and we both thought it would be enough. Apparently it wasn't.

There was constant readjustment in our sitting positions. A couple times, I messed with my blouse to attempt removing any wrinkles or to fix the way it flowed, while he played around with his shirt collar, moving it back and forth between up and down, until both of us allowed ourselves to pretend it wasn't rude and pulled out our phones. My notifications were bare as always, probably opposite to his, who would receive thirst tweets by the billion every second.

I've seen how people talk about him. I might've been one of those people in my past. Maybe. Whatever it is he found there though, it was the normal. He didn't have any reaction, so that's why I can assume so, and he was back on his mission to say something to me. The awkwardness couldn't be ignored, even with the go-to resources at hand.

"You know, by the way," Jewee's thumbs were twiddling against his phone screen, which was currently off, as he hummed in between his words for the sake of stalling and nothing else. "Your book is taking off by storm. Journalists are writing about it, you have high ratings online, it's the talk of the media, and it just came out officially. It's only gonna continue going up. You should be proud of yourself. Proud-er than what you're showing."

"Ha! They're reading it because your name is on the cover. Jewee Gray Kyler the Great."

"The Great?" His eyebrows crinkled, but it returned to it's natural state before I could convince myself they did. He acted like he didn't acknowledge it whatsoever. "That's not true, Jaiva Shyne. Jeez, what a pessimist you are! Even if that was the case -- that they bought the book because of my name, they read it because what it consisted of drew them, and that was all you. Trust me. You know that. It's not like I can take credit for what you wrote. That came long before you met me. Your brain made magic. You created your own miracle."

"Alright!" I yelled it loudly just to calm him down, lowering my voice instantly afterward, to be as genuine about it as possible. I was happy, but my mind wasn't focused on it entirely, and the part that was was distracted by the idea that it couldn't possibly be real. "Thank you, then. Thank you," I settled on saying, so it wouldn't be dragged on further. Him treating me nice because he wanted to and not for any other reason was still new to me. It's been overshadowed, and it the setting had to be lit again.

"Good, that's progress," he nodded. "So speaking about that, since you already know about the movie adaption, it's moving along, if you're on board. The success it's getting is bound for success as a movie too, I'd say, and to be blunt about it, I think I know what I'm talking about."

My head titled automatically. I began scanning him for lies or for jokes, but I didn't find anything of the sort. It remained tilted out of shock. "You better not be messing with me right now."

"I wouldn't! That's why I'm trying to tell you, if you're in, that from here we can do one of two things. We can get the hard stuff done and out of the way first, or we can save it for later and take care of the simpler things first. It's up to you."

I massaged either end of my forehead. It was throbbing more than a heart could beat in the average human lifespan. "I'm not up for anything difficult right now. I don't think I can handle it."

"Understandable. Rest for a few and we'll do the easy stuff first. Let me know when you're ready."

~

The sun had set, and with the night, I got the time to relax. Bare face, bun-up, and baggy clothes was exactly what I needed.

I stood at the balcony door, peering out the window, but I didn't step outside. Being known to the public to have a connection to Jewee might make me allowed to be on his home property without stirring up rumors, but I didn't want to ignite the wrong flame. Overhead, there there were millions of stars looking down at me, twinkling delicately, and that's all I wanted to see.

In Colorado, I rarely ever got to see them, and in Vegas it wasn't much better, but from his place, it was more possible than I've been able to experience before. It was further out on the edge of town, and my place back in my hometown was right smack in the middle of the big city. There would always be something in the way of seeing them, like a tall building or a thick fog.

I didn't believe that my ancestors were watching over me, but under clear starlight it crossed my mind for the first time. I've never fathomed the concept, but if it were true, hypothetically speaking, I wondered if they would be proud of me as the girl who carried their line and their name. As the woman who was in the spotlight among our generations, and who would likely be the last.

Considering that was saddening. They probably would've liked it to continue, but I wasn't and won't be at a time in my life to even think about it if I wanted to. I don't know if I do anyway, but it's not really what matters. I have me to worry about, and I get to determine my milestones in my own way and my own form.

"Water?" Jewee offered a bottle to me as he climbed up the last few steps. I had told him minutes ago I felt good enough to go over whatever it was that he needed to, and he told me to meet him up in his room. I didn't quite get there, but either worked out.

"Thanks." I grabbed it from him, following his lead down the hall to where we planned to go. He went straight to the chair behind his desk, and I, without hesitating sat down at the edge of his bed, eventually leaning back to lay down, knees and below still dangling off the end. Eyelids heavy and slightly dizzy, I found the most comfort I could as I waited for him to talk.

Fortunately, he had a soothing voice I could listen to forever. If it was annoying, I might end up getting fed up at one point or another. At least it can go semi-tolerably.

"Before I get into anything, I wanted to tell you that they want to turn your novel into a romance movie. I will not be directing it, turns out, but I can give them tips or suggestions if I have any, so that's why I wanted to talk about it and personalize it as much as possible, so your emotions aren't lost in the film. I know your bond with Aiden was only a friendship, so if you don't like that genre it's understandable, but for the plot it would be best if--."

I chuckled briefly, making him stop to express a puzzled look, that I leaned up a bit to see. "It doesn't matter if it's a romance. Aiden and I were always that duo that people assumed we were dating because the 'man-and-a-woman-can't-be-just-friends' was so stuck in people's heads, and we just laughed about it. I'm one hundred percent sure that if Aiden knew about this, he would laugh about it too."

"Oh. I-- uh, I thought I'd have to convince you," he answered shyly. Rustling papers were hidden into his top drawer. Me being okay with it without any issue surprised him strangely, and I didn't get how I was meant to interpret that. I sat up fully again to see if it'd give me more clues. He was embarrassed and it made him physically and verbally clumsy, doing and saying whatever his body made him do. "So did you -- uhm. Did you ever have feelings for him? Aiden, I mean? Feelings that were more than platonic?"

I shook my head. "No. I told you, we just thought it was funny, but we never looked at each other that way." One of my eyebrows raised. He was being not only suspicious, but he was going severely off-course from what we said we were going to talk about, which was unlike him, especially regarding something he was passionate about. "Why does it matter?"

"No, no. It doesn't. It's just a question. Nothing more than that. It's good you don't mind. That's much more time efficient," he shrugged. He spun a couple times in his office chair. Something was off about him. "So let's just uh-- get right into everything then. You ready?"

"Sure," I nodded along rather than question him, but I still wondered.

Why does he hate me being fine with a romantic concept? Why does it turn him into chaos? He's been a master of chaos for so long. He's the epitome of it. The mascot, and for years it seemed he was in control of it, like he held the reigns.

But suddenly he fell victim to his own fire.

Weird.