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He is brought out of his reverie as the clock on the wall chimes
loudly, signalling that an hour has passed. Once again, blue eyes dart
down to his lap, the ring now resting gently on his fabric-covered
thigh. With trembling hands, he picks it up, resting it gingerly down
on the table, and remembers when he first met
her
.
He was seventeen, she was a year younger; all soft skin and doe
eyes and messy hair. He thinks back to lazy mornings with her –
clean, white sheets over their bodies as they lay together, legs
entwined and arms slung over their eyes. And then he remembers
the way she sat up abruptly one morning, the sheets pooling around
her waist. He remembers the flush of pink blossoming on her
cheeks and the constellations of freckles adorning her shoulders.
And he thinks of the way she smiled at him, the edges of her eyes
crinkling as the rising sun shone from behind her, creating a glowing
golden halo as it highlighted the loose strands of hair that framed
her beaming face. He thinks back to the days he spent with her; her
palm in his, their fingers fitting together like puzzle pieces and the
sound of her laughter still ringing in his ears, like liquid gold, soft
and mellow.
And then, he remembers the way everything fell apart. She had
approached him one afternoon under the cherry tree outside his
house, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear as her
russet eyes darted around nervously, refusing to meet his gaze.
What
had he done wrong?
He focused his stare on her face, frowning at the
lines between her brows. His hands itched to reach over and
smooth out the wrinkles that sullied the smooth canvas of her face,
but he forced himself to remain still. She cleared her throat as her
words came out shaky. “I–I think we need to break up.” She choked
the words out.
The boy felt the air leave his lungs as his eyes widened. “W–
Why?” He could see her gripping the hem of her shirt until her
knuckles turned white. “I just feel like you’re too feminine, y’know?
Like it sometimes feels like I’m dating a girl… It just makes me
uncomfortable.”
“But what about the ring?” They both looked down at the metal
on the girl’s hand – the once gleaming silver now appeared dull and
lacklustre. He could only just make out the word engraved on the
ring – ‘Forever’. He met her tearful gaze once again. “What about
the ring? What about forever?” He asked. She squeezed her eyes
Boys Aren’t
Meant To Cry
9