Where everything, good or bad, makes us happy.

We sat beside each other today, across from the tomato shop. As agreed, she had lied to her aunt about going to get a book from her friend, Bayo. And I, did not need an excuse for anyone. Mom had traveled, so their wasn't really anyone to lie to. She swung her legs, back and forth, underneath the wooden bench we both sat on, her fingers rubbing each other shyly.

"School is really choking me." I said to her, perhaps earlier than it could have been.

I expected her to ask how it had been strangling the life out of me, but she did not. Rather, she moved closer to me; close enough so our hands could touch. In that moment, I felt a tingling sensation in my stomach. I bit my lips and closed my eyes; to absorb the feeling, to let them stay in my heart till whenever she would touch me again.

"So... " I was taken aback and almost fell off the bench. "What would you rather do? Besides school, I mean." She asked. Her voice was, as it has always been, too thin, one would say, suitable for her petite form.

I did not know why I had replied what I did. It had escaped my mouth, even before my brain could register it. "I would rather sit home and write thousands of suicidal stories."

From the side of my eye, I noticed that her gaze had moved from across the road, where the fat lady sold fresh tomatoes and peppers and to my direction.

"Why would you want to do that?" Her tone had changed. It was no longer thin and sad, but thin and enthusiastic, as if she had been hoping I said something about this.

"Ummm..." I muttered, not sure of what she wanted to hear. I felt scared that she would be disappointed at what I would say. She must have, for a while, been waiting for my reply and so she shook me, wrapping her fingers barely around my muscles.

The feeling had returned. I was in deep euphoria- an everlasting ecstasy. I turned my head to her, falling in love with her eyes again. Her long lashes made her eyes look even bigger. She had a cute pinched nose that I thought looked adorable. She left her lips slightly open, relaxed. She must have felt embarrassed by the relentless stare and so she brushed her bleached hair, made brown from too many years of hair dye and relaxer. I watched as her elongated neck- graceful and elegant- brought her face back to me.

She stared at me, this time, with a nonplussed expression, before saying "Will you say something or not!" It sounded less like a question but I knew what she had meant.

"Oh!" I exclaimed, shoving my fingers into my afro dyed-black hair. It was carved in a square at the front, a spot painted brown as it was the trend.

"I feel like it will help me reconcile with reality a lot better." I smiled, noticing her confusion.

"What do you mean reconcile?" Her emphasis laid strongly on reconciliation.

"I would rather write about suicide. My reasons include: it's better off to learning about Political behaviorism or about Newton's law of motion or even about Quadratic equations." I paused, making sure that she had been following. " I think these things do not really relate so much with humanity and that is why it's choking me." I concluded my proposition with a smirk, flashing my teeth. she has to be impressed

Her bewildered expression came up again. She swept her tongue across her lips, in a bid to wet them, and let out a sigh. "You mean you're not in fact suicidal?"
Then and there, I wished that she could see through my heart and know the answer to that question. It would frighten her to know that, just two nights ago, I had ran a blade on my wrist, feeling nothing but anger. With the regular masochism, I had become numb to pain. I was glad that she did not know this and so I smiled, staring into her eyes again and replying "No. I'm never suicidal."

"Oh," She replied, disappointed. "Well I am suicidal," She laughed, got up from the bench and sat down again, then continued "and very pessimistic too. You could write a story about me. I'll read it. But this doesn't mean you have to quit school to be able to write."

" I know. You won't understand though." I sighed.

I looked at her and noticed that her face had started to turn wet. She leaned to my chest and hugged me. My heart beat twice as fast. I stayed silent, not even patting her back. I heard her sobs and that did not let my perverted mind think of the feeling her body was relaying to mine. "Excuse my desolate melancholy. It struck again, unexpectedly." She said, releasing her hands from my body.

She looked at me again, this time, hypnotizing me. "You have a flat chest." She laughed. "And black looks good on you, I forgot to say. It's funny how I've never seen you in black." She added.

I said nothing. My mind was whirling with images of what our lives would be if we eventually end up together.

"I love your eyes." I managed to say, and I felt proud that I had said that.

Briefly, she leaned in and pressed her lips against my left cheek. I leaned in too, holding her head and jamming my lips softly on her lips. She returned the kiss, biting my lower lip hungrily. It was our first kiss and it felt as if Heaven had finally come.

"Being with you is what they call experience passionnante." She chuckled.

We both cachinnated and I was sure that everyone that passed the road had heard our silliness and sighed in mockery or laughed in amazement. "Barely eighteen and see what they are doing." They would say.

I stood up, stretched my hand for her to hold. She straightened her gown, buckled up her sandals and smiled. We walked away, palm-in-palm, smiling in contentment. I would walk her to the junction that led to her house and we would department to meet in school the next day.

•Hurray!?  First story is up, people! I'm really freaking out.
•Dedicated to the cover producer harielta
•Subsequent stories will be posted once a week(no specific day)
•Hit the star below. Say something nice. Tell your friends about it and make me extremely happy. I'll tell my momma about you, I promise ❤💕