Categories > Original > Romance
The car went under the overpass and her breath fought to stay locked up in her chest full of wishes while the dark that fell over her eyes. She used to release one wish while under, and usually, it was a wish that was too big to come true. She still wished it anyway. This time though, she let her breath out while still under. And smiled. A hand held hers, and she smiled again.
Driving away her dorm, she whistled with the song on the radio, hitting every note. She had a big range and could whistle high or low notes, a skill she wasn’t quite aware of until her roommate had stared at her with a big O for a mouth. Now, she was quite proud of it. Thinking about the friend she shared a door and a closet with, she smiled. She was very lucky to have her as her roomie, for they had personalities that balanced each other out. She was the quiet, introverted type, and her friend was the outspoken bundle of energy everyone on campus had come to know and love. Her smile became fonder when she remembered a conversation they had when both of them had first turned up on their little balcony at 3 in the morning.
She had trouble sleeping, and had thought she was the only one. Usually she stayed in bed, but one time, she had the impulse to make a wish. So she had thrown her covers, walked to the balcony and picked out a star to release one wish. When she saw that she had company, she had realized that she was not the only sleep-deprived person. Her friend looked at her curiously, and asked about what she just did. She explained that she had been making a wish, and so her friend looked up to make her own. They had talked until the sun had risen, and she couldn’t believe how her friend could stay so bubbly and bouncy all day, running on zero sleep at night. Their topics ranged from snow cones to summer flings to terror professors to tampons to bikini tan lines to her natural frown to that guy in their photography class who had 1 feet of green hair on his head. The part about her frown was the one that went back to her in a rush.
It was normal for her to be described as snotty, since she had features that made her look like so. So it was new to her that her friend had said that she didn’t look snobbish, but sad. She had jokingly said that she had no one to make her smile, alluding to the fact that she was single. Her friend laughed at her. She sounded like it was all drama, but a little sombreness was right under the surface. Still, this friend wasn’t close enough to detect it, so she wasn’t worried. She liked it when people laughed.
It became a ritual for them. They would go out, make a wish, and sit side by side from 3 am until the sunrise; sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting there. One time, they sat there without speaking and noticed legs poking out from a balcony of a boys’ dorm right beside theirs. They looked for the rest of the body and covered up giggles with their hands when they found it, sprawled on the balcony floor with the head disappearing into the room. They didn’t think anyone else would be up, or be up and on their balconies, for that matter. She remembered whistling to catch his attention. Soon, they were three people who wished on stars at 3 in the morning.
Some people made friends in their classes, some made them while on sports teams, and some made them from partying in the same bars and parties. They made them in the darkness at ungodly hours. It was an unusual relationship, but they lived for it. Never did insomnia mean something quite as sweet as their friendship.
It was a long time coming, but it came. As cliché and predictable as it was, they started harbouring feelings for this strange new boy who entered their lives feet first. She had instantly liked how he was so random and odd, and her friend had liked how he could be silent and thoughtful, throwing them exploratory questions that made them think. He would semi-shout random facts at them and they would laugh, because most of them were absurd and irrelevant.
When she noticed that he came over and talked to her friend more, she told herself that he was just being nice. Before, she had wished big wishes on stars and under bridges. Now, she wished one wish every time, a wish just as big. She wished that he would come over for her, love her, not her roommate.
Of course, she knew how her friend felt. She knew. How could she not? To her credit though, her friend never encouraged him, for she knew that she was not the only one feeling more than she should. She knew it was killing her, but she stubbornly held on to the hope that he would love her instead.
One night, they sat there without speaking, and she knew that her friend had been close enough to detect that sad serious note in her voice, many nights ago. Her friend knew that this was something she had wished for, something that she was waiting patiently for, so she held back, gave way, and pushed aside feelings so that she could have the one she loved. Her friend had stopped laughing though, and she missed it. She remembered many nights when she had made her laugh.
She loved that laugh. She also loved the many smiles that her friend had; each one was different from the other. She had always smiled one smile, and found it funny that she knew someone with so many. On a night when the moon was full and bright, she suddenly laughed. She had a ponytail elastic tan line on her wrist, and she laughed. Her friend looked alarmed, and she realized it was because usually, it was her friend who did that. She never laughed. She looked at her tan line and laughed again, and slowly, her friend got used to the laugh that she kept usually kept unused.
When he rang the doorbell and held out boxes of chocolate for them, she had smiled a different smile, a new smile. She used her laugh often now, and soon she realized that she had many smiles, just like her friend. Slowly, she let him in, for she knew now that he loved both of them equally. The times he had paid attention to her friend more, she noticed now, was the time she was too busy wishing, not noticing how his eyes threw concerned glances her way. He paid as much attention to her, she realized now. It was a beginning, she knew, for it was the first time in ages that she let someone inside her single room.
They sat together in her balcony eating chocolates, just the two of them, and for the first time, she did not make a wish.
Driving away her dorm, she whistled with the song on the radio, hitting every note. She had a big range and could whistle high or low notes, a skill she wasn’t quite aware of until her roommate had stared at her with a big O for a mouth. Now, she was quite proud of it. Thinking about the friend she shared a door and a closet with, she smiled. She was very lucky to have her as her roomie, for they had personalities that balanced each other out. She was the quiet, introverted type, and her friend was the outspoken bundle of energy everyone on campus had come to know and love. Her smile became fonder when she remembered a conversation they had when both of them had first turned up on their little balcony at 3 in the morning.
She had trouble sleeping, and had thought she was the only one. Usually she stayed in bed, but one time, she had the impulse to make a wish. So she had thrown her covers, walked to the balcony and picked out a star to release one wish. When she saw that she had company, she had realized that she was not the only sleep-deprived person. Her friend looked at her curiously, and asked about what she just did. She explained that she had been making a wish, and so her friend looked up to make her own. They had talked until the sun had risen, and she couldn’t believe how her friend could stay so bubbly and bouncy all day, running on zero sleep at night. Their topics ranged from snow cones to summer flings to terror professors to tampons to bikini tan lines to her natural frown to that guy in their photography class who had 1 feet of green hair on his head. The part about her frown was the one that went back to her in a rush.
It was normal for her to be described as snotty, since she had features that made her look like so. So it was new to her that her friend had said that she didn’t look snobbish, but sad. She had jokingly said that she had no one to make her smile, alluding to the fact that she was single. Her friend laughed at her. She sounded like it was all drama, but a little sombreness was right under the surface. Still, this friend wasn’t close enough to detect it, so she wasn’t worried. She liked it when people laughed.
It became a ritual for them. They would go out, make a wish, and sit side by side from 3 am until the sunrise; sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting there. One time, they sat there without speaking and noticed legs poking out from a balcony of a boys’ dorm right beside theirs. They looked for the rest of the body and covered up giggles with their hands when they found it, sprawled on the balcony floor with the head disappearing into the room. They didn’t think anyone else would be up, or be up and on their balconies, for that matter. She remembered whistling to catch his attention. Soon, they were three people who wished on stars at 3 in the morning.
Some people made friends in their classes, some made them while on sports teams, and some made them from partying in the same bars and parties. They made them in the darkness at ungodly hours. It was an unusual relationship, but they lived for it. Never did insomnia mean something quite as sweet as their friendship.
It was a long time coming, but it came. As cliché and predictable as it was, they started harbouring feelings for this strange new boy who entered their lives feet first. She had instantly liked how he was so random and odd, and her friend had liked how he could be silent and thoughtful, throwing them exploratory questions that made them think. He would semi-shout random facts at them and they would laugh, because most of them were absurd and irrelevant.
When she noticed that he came over and talked to her friend more, she told herself that he was just being nice. Before, she had wished big wishes on stars and under bridges. Now, she wished one wish every time, a wish just as big. She wished that he would come over for her, love her, not her roommate.
Of course, she knew how her friend felt. She knew. How could she not? To her credit though, her friend never encouraged him, for she knew that she was not the only one feeling more than she should. She knew it was killing her, but she stubbornly held on to the hope that he would love her instead.
One night, they sat there without speaking, and she knew that her friend had been close enough to detect that sad serious note in her voice, many nights ago. Her friend knew that this was something she had wished for, something that she was waiting patiently for, so she held back, gave way, and pushed aside feelings so that she could have the one she loved. Her friend had stopped laughing though, and she missed it. She remembered many nights when she had made her laugh.
She loved that laugh. She also loved the many smiles that her friend had; each one was different from the other. She had always smiled one smile, and found it funny that she knew someone with so many. On a night when the moon was full and bright, she suddenly laughed. She had a ponytail elastic tan line on her wrist, and she laughed. Her friend looked alarmed, and she realized it was because usually, it was her friend who did that. She never laughed. She looked at her tan line and laughed again, and slowly, her friend got used to the laugh that she kept usually kept unused.
When he rang the doorbell and held out boxes of chocolate for them, she had smiled a different smile, a new smile. She used her laugh often now, and soon she realized that she had many smiles, just like her friend. Slowly, she let him in, for she knew now that he loved both of them equally. The times he had paid attention to her friend more, she noticed now, was the time she was too busy wishing, not noticing how his eyes threw concerned glances her way. He paid as much attention to her, she realized now. It was a beginning, she knew, for it was the first time in ages that she let someone inside her single room.
They sat together in her balcony eating chocolates, just the two of them, and for the first time, she did not make a wish.
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