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#myperson

A term and ideology stolen from Grey's Anatomy. In which nothing and no one can replace your person; a person who means everything to you, who you would do anything for, and who would do anything for you. I remember Laura, my closest high school friend, telling me how lucky I was to have found both my persons at such a time in my life. To always have someone who would be there for me no matter.

And I was.

I had been texting Dilan, my Alex Karev in other words, telling him about you. It was so thrilling, I kept quiet about this for an eternity. I wanted to preserve whatever we had, which was nothing, between us. In this bubble that I had imagined.

I was in this bubble, love bubble, by myself. I always was. Before you made us something, after you made us nothing, and all the in-between.

I'm so screwed. I texted Dilan. He's my tutor! What a mess. I feel like my life is some American teen novel.

Your life is an American teen novel. He texted back followed by a laughing emoji. I just shook my head and pressed on the side button, shutting my phone off.

My legs were crossed as I sat on the metal chairs in the waiting room outside my doctor's office. My foot was being pushed back and forth by nerves. I'd be getting my report today, telling me what I had to do next.

I looked down at my phone whose screen brightened up. It was another text from Dilan. You'll be fine. You always are. It's you.

It was like he could feel me going mad. Every possible cell in my brain on fire, needing to know what was wrong with my body now. My nerves jittery, not leaving a single muscle on my body not clenched or unmoving. My mother was by my side, holding my hand.

She was playing some sort of game on her phone. Smurfs Village I think. This is how she always did it. She tried not to look too much into me, to let me let my own emotions out without her having to interfere because she knew that if she did, if she sat here and tried to relate to whatever it is that I was feeling and going through then she'd drive the strength of my emotions through the roof.

"Lyla Vasilie-" A nurse started to call out before her eyebrows scrunched up as she looked up at me as if waiting for me to explain why I had such a complicated last name. As if I were the one who chose it and put it there.

"Vasilievna." I nodded and stood up, following the petite dark-haired lady into a narrow space.

My mother, who looked up at the nurse the minute she spoke up, turned to look at me. "Do you want me to go in with you?"

"Please." I nodded. Her pale, long fingers interlocked with mine as she squeezed onto my head.

"Don't be scared."

"I'm not." I lied.

It was a small narrow corridor painted in pale yellow. Though the doctor's office was closed. It felt like a long while before I've walked into it. The noises around me channeling into a single zone, my mind a whirlwind of distractions.

"Hello, Lyla. It's nice to see you again." She smiled at me, the doctor. She was a kind, young, overweight woman with frizzy hair and a warm smile.

"I'd say the same under different circumstances," I muttered. My hand letting go of my mom's as I stepped further into the office whilst she followed suit.

"And why are you assuming so?" Dr. Dubrow quizzed, placing her arms on the table. Both her brown folding close as she watched me skeptically.

"I can feel that there's something wrong. It's at the pit of my stomach. It always is." And subconsciously my hand did make its way onto my stomach, resting there.

"I'm not going to tell you that I have any good news from your results and tests submitted that week. But, it could be worse. It could be irreversible." She speaks slowly as if trying to gauge a reaction out of me. What she didn't know was that I already knew what was wrong with me. I always did. I didn't need a doctor to tell me that. With my extensive medical research and consistent med school applications and entrance exams alongside interviews, I didn't need anyone to help me out with a simple prognosis. I wasn't here to be diagnosed. I was here for the fix. 

"But it is?" I pause for a minute. My head turning to my mother who has managed to keep quiet this entire time, perhaps the longest she's been in years. "Irreversible?"

"You're going to have to need some medication for a while. Just a few weeks. I know you hate those, but bear with me on this one. If you take them in the amounts prescribed and avoid falling into the previous incident, you should be fine."

I looked at everything but the doctor. The sticky notes on her desk that weren't placed in a straight stack or the right color coordinates to which they are purchased in bothered me, but I looked up anyway.

"There won't be a repeat of last times incident," I assure her, knowing there was no way I could gain back that kind of trust. Not from my mother, and certainly not from an experienced doctor.

"I'll make sure of that. The pills are prescribed to your mother. She will monitor your intake and the bottle will remain with her."

The rest of the appointment amounted to me translating everything to my mother whilst my phone buzzed consistently in my butt pocket; Dilan perhaps.

My mother was driving me to class. It was true what people say; that silence is a slow form of death, how it separated people from each other. I don't think any of us knew what to say to each other at this point. There were too many reminders of what had happened two years ago cascading through the silence that was slicing the connection we had.

The car slowed down as my mom's hands lightly turned the wheel to parallel-stop by the pathway for me to get off. I opened the car door, a leg out before she could say anything. But then I turned and looked at her. "I love you, mom."

She cupped my cheek and smiled weakly. "Be good, okay?"

I nodded and hopped off, quickly making my way through the gates and running to class. I wasn't late, but the heavy downpour from the sky that felt like multiple fabrics were falling atop of me already had my hair drowning.

"Oh my god, what happened to you?" Rena appealed to, her mouth forming a small 'o' when her eyes landed on the looks of me. Perhaps it was the fact that my hair looked like a cat just died in it.

"Help me tie my hair down?" I smiled sheepishly whilst I turned to have her handle my tangled mess. Her slick tied, center-head ponytail indicated that she was the right person to work with my head in this situation. "And whilst you're at it could you please get the two buttons of my dress that I couldn't get with my short arms?"

She laughed, "Of course."

There were thirty minutes left to class and it was plenty of time for my long bob to dry off. I sat sideways patiently as I waited for Rena to figure out the buttons at the back of my dress. It was a navy blue dress with buttons starting at the nape of my neck and cascading down my back, they were held by small loops, each button interlocked with a hoop. The sleeves were long and slightly flared by the wrists and a similar style followed at my waist as it ended mid-thigh. My legs were covered by some translucent maroon stockings ending with black, velvet ankle-length boots.

"Where are your other glasses?" She asked me, her hand touching my thick, black frames that lacked the temple on the right side of my face.

"I have no idea, which is why I'm wearing the broken ones! I think I put them somewhere at home last night, I didn't really have time to look for them this morning."

I was contemplating whether I should be sitting next to Rena, which was my usual spot or sit next to you. I decided against it since the last time I tried to sit by your left side you'd indicated that that was where Ella sat.

She did have her GRE today though...

Finally deciding against it, I pulled out my iPad and opened up the slides of the chapter we were working on. I didn't have to look up to know that it was you who had entered the classroom. I knew the sound of your shoes against the tiled floors and the clink of the pull tabs of your backpack's zippers when they fell upon each other. I hated my attentiveness to everything that surrounded me, but it helped me be cautious in many situations that I could have easily been caught up with.

You didn't say hello, or speak to me for that matter and I wasn't sure why. But I sucked up my emotions and focused on the screen on my table whilst you conversed with your friend, Derek, who now sat by your left side.

I wasn't sure if you were mad at me, or just not in the mood. I wasn't sure if I should push the situation and speak to you first, or just leave you be. I decided to leave you be so that I didn't come off as pushy and focused on the lecture that dragged on for what felt like forever.

This one always did, especially when my mind was too busy being preoccupied with yours truly whilst I was trying my best to focus on something that I was not interested in. So it wasn't a surprise that I found myself in the library reading a book once it was over.

That clink. I heard the pull tabs clinking against each other and looked up. And there you stood, dark-washed jeans, a white button-up shirt, and a navy blue, warm unzipped jacket. You stood there and you stared. I was kind of waiting for a hello but got nothing instead so I pegged you for the kind of guy that refuses to approach people first regardless of the stage of friendship they were in.

So I smiled instead and patted the seat to my left, a motion to have you sit by my side. It didn't take your long legs much time to glide those two steps over and make it to my side. Whilst you slipped off your backpack and unzipped it, you leaned into my side.

"You look beautiful today," you whispered in my ear. My heart fluttering at the words I thought I'd never hear you say to me. I narrowed my breathing, a trick I learned to stop my palpitations. 

It didn't take an idiot to notice that this was what made me blush, but I hid it quite well. At least I believe that I did when I had my head hung low. Recovering quickly, I turned to you and smiled for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Thank you!" I squealed, mentally face palming myself for giving out too much emotion into my words. Could I be any more obvious?

I remained quiet as I carefully worked on my notes since the book reading wasn't working out with my trail of thoughts with you right next to me, your elbow brushing against mine from time to time as you went through your book. 

"Would you like to run an errand with me before class?" I knew you had some time before your Italian class. You looked like you were contemplating my suggestion for a moment, as you stared off at the book that you used to study for your certification.

"Sure."

"It's a bit of a walk, though."

"I don't think that should be a problem." You said, your hand pushing your glasses further up your nose.

"I still don't get how you don't believe in God. It's-" you started, your hands waving around. It was rare that I saw them out of your pockets. You always had them stuffed to the back of your jacket pockets like you were protecting them from due harm. "-I believe that everything happens because of God. I believe that I met you because of God. I believe that my mom got cured of cancer because of God. I used to be an aethiest before my mom got cured. I saw the light. There's a certain light to belief."

"It's a lot more complex than that, James. Not believing in God differs. It doesn't work that way with me. It's easy to believe in something, especially in religion because you have a choice. But it's not easy to do that when you don't know why you're doing it. I don't know if you get what I'm saying?" I tried to elaborate my beliefs as explicitly as I could, but I wasn't sure you were as understanding as you deemed yourself to be.

"I do. I get you. I really do."

I wish I hadn't believed you.

"Being enforced into a religion, being forced to pray, being forced to do things in the name of God without knowing why or what the reason behind it is in your heart, isn't belief. I don't believe not because it was a choice, but because I'm doing what I'm told to do and I don't know why. Why am I praying? Why am I supposed to be dressed this way? I'm sure there is a reason behind everything, but doing something just because my father told me that I should do it or just because someone told me that this is right doesn't count. That's not belief. When it comes to religion, it's something I have to be able to figure out on my own. And as of now? I just don't believe in God."

I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes for a couple of seconds when I was done speaking, the walk to Sushi Express had my tiny fat legs crying and me out of breath. I wanted to surprise my mother with a Sushi Burrito.

"Please make sure that the free one is without shrimp. Don't forget that; she's allergic." I told the counter attendant.

"No worries." His lips formed a smile, it was one-sided and almost looked like a smirk.

"I'll be waiting outside."

I leaned against the wall as you stood in front of me quietly. I closed my eyes to avoid looking at you, enjoying the slight November breeze. It was rather heated for this time of the year, we were reaching the end of the thanksgiving month and it's still nineteen degrees Celsius with a light drizzling once or twice a week. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the cool air.

"I didn't like that."

I popped one eye open and looked at you quizzically, raising a brow. "Didn't like what?"

"The fact that you told him not to forget. It's his job, I'm sure he gets that a lot."

You were being ridiculous about this, but I approached the situation differently. "Yes, I understand that. But my mother is deathly allergic to shrimp and it's something that's not quite easy to spot in a sushi burrito especially when it's raw, has no smell, and is chopped into smaller pieces. If he does make a mistake, which I was trying to make sure he won't, she can die. And I really wouldn't like that."

Nodding at me, you stuffed your hands right back into your pocket. What was it with you and your pockets? Before I could say anything the counter attendant opened the pull door and popped his head out. His cheeks filling with more color, perhaps from the cold. I could never understand how people could get so cold that quickly, but then again not everyone carried the Russian gene.

Granted that wasn't the reason I couldn't get cold.

"Your order is ready, ma'am." The dark-haired attendant beamed.

"Lovely," I grinned at him and stepped in for a minute to note down the address I needed it sent to.

"Again, thank you so much." I waved as I left the place and synchronized with your footsteps back to class. "Are you doing anything after Italian?"

"You have Investment Method of Valuation now, right? And no, I'm not. Starbucks?"

"Starbucks." I nodded. "And yes, I can't believe I'm failing a course. It's so unlike me." I complained, my bottom lip pouting and brows scrunched up. I was distracted. I was sick and my mom was sick. It was easier to just blame it all on my incoherent brain not being able to understand anything.

"I don't get it either. I know your stuff. You get the idea behind the equations and everything provided in this course. What else is there?"

"I don't know," I sighed. " I guess it just isn't something that I can do. I mean there's always something that someone cannot do and this seems to be one of those things for me."

You didn't say anything, your eyes distant as you frowned slightly.

"I'll see you after class, yes?" I didn't move to hug you because you always pushed on the fact that when we hung out at uni and 'people might see us'. Were we doing something wrong?

▲▼▲

I was laughing heartily, haven't felt this free in a while. It was lovely, to just sit out in the dark under the fairy lights of a cafe surrounded by students, couples, the elderly, friends, and people in arguments; surrounded by the reality of life and you.

As always, you were ever so casually sat in front of me and texting, or maybe doing something else. It was always something or the other.

You excused yourself. Something about a friend calling you. I took that as an opportunity to order a caramel frappuccino. I was back with my drink when you shuffled the chairs and slid onto your seat, slowly pushing yourself forward in an odd way. It made me think about what I looked like when I did that and didn't even want to imagine anymore. Horrifying.

"I'm sorry. That was my friend, it's the same person that called the last time we sat together. He's just checking if I need saving. I told him I'm good." You explained, a slight smile tilting the corner of your cupid lips.

"Ah, the savior." I exaggerated, both my arms motioning in an introductory action. I probably looked like I was introducing some sort of new concept.

"Something like that. You know, I was mad at you this morning." It was like you were afraid to tell me that, suddenly your thumbs were fidgeting, picking at your cuticles.

"How come?" My head tilted to the side, my eyebrows coming together and forehead probably wrinkling up.

"I thought that you were like one of those girls; from the library." You briefly mentioned, as if I was supposed to somehow get that. You did talk about other situations often, but never in detail.

"What do you mean?" I decided to prod this time, grabbing the straw to my plastic cup and twirling it around in the cup. I liked my whipped cream mixed in with the coffee.

"I thought that you were like all of the other girls in the library. We sit together for a while, and then they just stop talking to me. Just like that! And this morning you haven't spoken to me so..." you trailed off, still fidgeting. You weren't making any eye contact with me anymore.

Other girls. Okay.

"I didn't want to pester you. You came in and you didn't say hello or tried to approach me so I figured you had a terrible morning and didn't feel like talking."

I considered telling you about the part where I spent the entire night last night and this morning, deliberating on whether I should sit by your side or not. I decided against it. I have been deciding against awful many amounts of things today.

The fact that it seemed like this was something that you did daily bothered me, but I didn't want to say anything. What could I say? We were just friends after all. You could be sitting with as many girls in every library that you'd want to and it would be fine, it's not like I had the right to tell you what to do or to coax you into feeling anything.

You were quiet, looking out at the streets across the bushes by our table. The little black tables and seats went with my kind of aesthetics. It was rather chilly at this time of the evening, but there weren't any more seats available on the inside. We barely placed dibs on this one.

"Why would they just stop talking to you?" I was curious. A part of me didn't want to pry because I was never the kind of person that asked questions, I usually just waited until someone had to tell me whatever it is that they wanted to tell me rather than ask. But with you, I just wanted to know. I always wanted to know.

I finally sipped on the caramelized coffee and almost sighed out loud, there wasn't anything else that I needed. I was wondering if the reason they had stopped initiating a conversation with you was because of your cold demeanor, blatant defensive character, or accusatory presumptions. But it wasn't something I wanted to mention because I didn't want to hurt you and it wasn't something that bothered me, which is why I was still here. And not like 'the other girls'.

"I'm a safety net." You laughed sarcastically, folding your arms across your chest.

Puzzled, I looked at you. Tilting my head, it was something I did when I was confused. Hence the use of Dwayne's shoulder in statistics class. That or when I was trying to get cozy. One could guess which one it was in this situation.

"I'm the guy that's always there. I'm the nice guy. When they're arguing or fighting with their boyfriends, I'm here to listen. I'm there to reassure them. They sit with me like they are with me. They spend time with me. Entrust me with all of their problems and I am there. I am always there. I pick them up when they fall. I am the safety net."

And for the first time, I looked at you like I have never looked at anybody before because you spoke straight to my heart and I understood. I understood you. I looked at you sympathetically, something I promised to myself that I would never do, for it was something I wouldn't want to be done onto me.

I wasn't sure what to tell you. A part of me wanted to reach out and give your hand a reassuring squeeze, but I didn't want anything to come off as too much or too weird.

Before I could form something methodical to say, my phone's screen lit up. It was an iMessage from Bryce.

"You look down. What is it?" You questioned. 

I sighed and looked straight at you, wasn't sure where this was going and it's not something I wanted to go on about. I didn't want to waste our limited time spent together, talking about somebody else. Somebody that wasn't worth a minuscule thought.

"It's my ex," I mentioned briefly, grabbing the plastic coffee cup from the table and gritting the green straw between my teeth.

"Do you want to talk about it? You should reply to him." I didn't know what was your basis in this conversation, so I decided to change the subject. I was under the impression that you were a career-driven, open-minded person. I don't know how we got from talking about the girls in your library to the LGBT+ community, but that's the direction it took. 

You always talked about how it was difficult to catch up with me. How I opened up a door to multiple conversations at the same time and you didn't know where to go with it. It was just who I was. I had no beginning or ending, just like my stories, it was just me. I existed in the now, and I talked about my past like there was no better story to tell.

I didn't believe in bad parts that made me, only in those that contributed to the person that I am today. Every single thing that happened to me, shaped me, it wasn't for sympathy or pity. It was for pride, to be able to get through something and to stand through. I was the girl with seventy-three highlighters that believed in purple clouds and everything striped.

The key to moving on was to remain an open bottle. To be able to speak without care, shame, worry, or judgment of oneself. Because eventually, closed up spaces blow up. Just like you did.

"-don't believe in that." You finished, interrupting my mentation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Did you say you're against it?" I wasn't going to lie. I didn't enjoy the reaction that got off of you. But you were calm, confident, and made a convincing point. You did have a right to an opinion, it was yours. How you felt about something was completely up to you, no one can take that away from you.

"I believe that God created man and woman; together. This is the way that it should be, not any other way. It's how the universe and the stars are aligned." You voiced out. And it wasn't what you had said, but it was the way that you had said it.

You sighed, your arms falling against your sides as you leaned forward. "You don't agree?"

I think you could see it all over my face. "I don't agree with you. But I understand where you're coming from. My stance on this matter is different. I don't believe I have a say in this at all. I don't agree nor disagree. It's for them to decide. I do believe that people don't choose who they fall in love with. It's not anyone's fault. They should be able to and should be allowed to love who they love without being looked down on or being punished. They're beings just like us."

People don't choose who they fall in love with. I would know.

We drew the matter to close after that. "I think I should start going," I said, looking down at my newly purchased rose gold Daniel Wellington as I pushed the black metal chair with the back of my thighs and rose to grab my maroon leather backpack.

"I'll walk you to your car."

I nodded as I unzipped the front pocket and placed my wallet and receipt in before placing it over my back. I had a hard time reaching the handle, suddenly your shoe scrapes against the back of my boots and I felt your breath atop my head; your fingers lightly brushed my arm as you held out the strap for me. Inserting my hand through the loop, I mumbled a thank you.

Not forgetting the coffee on the table, I took it with me and we began to able through the misty, broken down roads.

"I don't think you're over him." You stated, your freckled nose scrunching up as it tried to hold on to your glasses that were sliding off.

"I very much am. Why wouldn't I be? I'm the one that doesn't want him back. He left and it took a while, but I've moved on..." and not only have I moved on over the middle of our summer break but I've managed, like an idiot, to develop feelings for someone else. You. "-and besides. I don't need creepy men in my life. I asked him to leave me alone because I couldn't handle it anymore."

"What do you mean by creepy?" You asked, placing your backpack between your feet on the floor.

"You can adjust the seat with the button on the side from your right," I enunciated. I offered to drive you to where you had your bike parked, it was raining slightly which had me worry about how you'd get home on a bike in the first place.

Pushing the thought aside, "-he just was. He'd texted a friend that usually takes the cab down with me since we live close asking about me because I wasn't replying. Why should I be replying when we're not even friends? Besides, my phone was on silent. I'm not entitled to sit on it twenty-four seven. That day at the library-"

I watched you nod as I elaborated on the countless times that the boy had me pissed off. "-he was following me because I wasn't replying. He'd wait for me outside of classes sometimes and I didn't want any of that so I always had to surround myself with people so that he doesn't get too close to me. I-"

"Breathe." You turned to look at me as you voiced out. "Just breathe. I understand."

"I just. I've moved on. I'm good now. I don't need anything else, you know? The next time I get into a relationship I need it to be the last, I am very serious about this. I don't play games when it comes to feelings. I'm just so tired." I whispered as I pushed the gear back into reverse and made it out of the parking spot, slowly driving out of the spot.

"Bravo, Lyla." You'd uttered before I made it out the gates when the wheel slipped from my hand and the car slightly turned. There was an incredibly loud screeching sound against the right side of the car as if the metal had been driven against it and my foot bore down on the break. The car came to a jolt and my back crashed back against my seat, not enough to hurt me but just enough to bruise.

I turned to look at you, horrified. My teeth pushing into my bottom lip as I tried to hold back a cry. "P-plea- Please can you take... a look at how bad it is?" I didn't have the guts to get out of the car and look at what I'd done. I've been driving for five months now and with my undying consistency in following all the rules, constantly checking for mirrors, showing all the right blinkers, and driving with the speed limit; I had never hit anything, anyone, or another car.

You didn't even say a word before you dropped your bag onto the passenger seat and got out, closing the door behind you. I thumbed the button for the window to roll down. "Is it bad?" I asked sheepishly, my teeth gritted against each other as I scrunched my entire face. I wasn't sure if I wanted to know.

You just looked at me with pity in your eyes. The fact that you didn't say anything answered all of my questions. I quickly made it out of the car and stepped out to stand next to you. Tears were slowly forming at the corner of my eyes as I stared at the plastic step used to get into a jeep on the floor. "This is very bad." My voice trembled and my arms wrapped around each other. It was something that I was used to. A form of comforting myself. I held myself because I knew that I was the only one there for me.

There wasn't much to say about the situation. It was embarrassing, even. The first time you get into a car with me and I manage to crash a rather large part of it. You'll probably never get in the car with me behind the wheel ever again.

When we were seated back in the car after you'd helped me drag the plastic onto the back seat and lightly open the window so that the metal fit, and after you stood outside as I drove past the gates to make sure I didn't hit anything again, I drove as slowly as I could. I was too paranoid to drive in the first place. I couldn't feel my feet that I needed to use against the pedals or my now jelly-like arms that helped me manipulate the wheel for directions.

I stopped by the supermarket which was where you had parked your car, the same one where we had our first mini-adventure in. "I don't want to leave you like this." You'd told me that day.

All I wanted to blurt out was the fact that I didn't want you to leave ever, but that was a pure fantasy that I created in my head, something that doesn't happen in real life.

"You look so pale." The fact that you pointed it out didn't make me feel any better. "I'm not going to leave this car until you cry."

I guffawed. I guffawed loudly and ridiculously. "Did you-" I tried to jabber out in between the fits of laughter. "- you want me to cry? Are you serious?"

"It's going to help you feel better." You exclaimed, your hands raised above your head in utter defense. Well, you were the last person who could talk about how one should deal with emotions since you were always first to hide them. But it wasn't the time for that conversation.

I shook my head. "I can't cry in front of people. I don't do emotions." Wow. I cannot believe I just said that! Clearly the part of me that existed before I met you was acting out with the stress at this point. How was I going to explain this to my parents?

"Can I kiss your forehead?" You asked me, your voice low and kind; almost as if you cared too much. I didn't want to imagine things and without really comprehending what you said, I inclined.

For some reason, my head had registered for a hug and I pushed my body over the seat, bending towards you as my hands wrapped around your warm waist whilst your head awkwardly bumped against mine. There was a small pause before your lips slightly brushed against the top of my forehead filling my body with all the warmth it lacked at that moment. I closed my eyes for the minute that it lasted and let myself get lost in your scent. You smelled like the mist of the most beautiful rain and the forests at night. I wanted to bury my nose in your shirt forever.

But all good things come to an end, just like this one and we said our goodbyes in no time.

You've never seen me like this because I wasn't like this. I'm not a sad person. I'm happy and I like happy things like planners and highlighters and things that make me think that I have my shit together. But I had my moments when things went wrong especially when this was in my control.

I had remembered that day vividly and it wasn't because of the car breakdown. I remembered that day. It was the day you had eventually told me that it was the first time that I had pissed you off. But that was a story for another time.