So there he lay awkwardly on his bed, with his diary close to him and a pen lying a little far away, crying like a child, like when he had lost the most precious people in his life—his parents. Only this time, he had lost a different person.
William Carter. A boy orphaned when he was just a child. A boy brought up by his uncle and aunt, with what you'd call a bittersweet parenting. People call him Will, and he has not a single joke left to be heard about his name.
He was never a cool guy. He didn't have many friends either. But he was content with himself—he'd found solace in math and science. They would keep his mind from wandering about and getting lost in the dark abyss of the haunting and most intrusive memories of his parents. He was a boy in pain, in the dire need of a hand to caress and calm him to sleep.
Will didn't socialize much but he had a small cozy group of friends. John Hunter who used to be his best friend, used to be his confidante too. Alan Blake was, and still is, and will forever be, his best well-wisher and adviser. Will, however, never gave Alan the badge of a best friend. He called Alan his "better friend". Even though he had such good friends, he could never really open up to people. So he kept a diary—he called it his alter ego, named it Dylan Ella after his parents. Dylan had its first entry when Will was five:
December 5, 2005.
I have never had any friends, Dylan. And I don't think I'll ever do. I wish my parents were there. I wish ... No, if things were different, maybe I'd never have had you Dylan. I am an open book to you, as you are to me. I don't want things to change. I love myself too much. I love you too.
But things did change. He did make friends, although very less. However, his life was still almost the same as it had been 11 years ago, I mean when he was five. Little had he known that his life was about to change forever, one year ago.
Although his uncle and aunt's parenting was not what he'd have wanted from life, they didn't compromise on his education, apparently at least. They had enrolled him to a good school in the neighborhood. Will's uncle would tell his aunt, "Let the brat be at school, out of home, as long as he wishes. We'll be spared!" She would nod along, rocking on her chair and knitting an ever-unfinished sweater. It was hard to make out whether her neck was so flexible that her rocking chair made her head nod, or she actually nodded. But, the latter seemed more likely. Anyway, the essence of what all I said is that they had sent him to school. It was the only place where Will would be happy, besides his small room and in Dylan's pages.
One year ago, in June, he had become friends with a girl Emma Annesley. Emma, and her soul-mate Emily Carmichael, were the sweetest, most charming and most well-mannered girls in Will's class. And every student unanimously revered them. Will and John both became friends with Emma and Emily. They used to hang out often, all together, in between classes, after meals, and whenever they found time to spare.
But underneath their friendship, there were growing feelings, strengthening bonds, growing competition, and loosening strings too. Soon, Will had found a great friend (and a probable love interest) in Emma. Emma seemed a bit inclined towards John. And John had developed a liking and an interest for Emma. Going by academic merit and personality, Will would be ranked far above John. Hence, only to keep her standards high enough and respectable, Emma got closer to Will. They became better friends. John had almost stopped hanging out with Will, Emma and Emily. Will used to ask Emma, "Why do you think John is doing this?" Emma would reply, "Uh... I don't know. Maybe he's found a better friend." A better friend? It confused Will. After all, Will was his best friend, and what could be better than the best? John now would hardly exchange words with him, and he hardly knew what pain this brought to Will.
September 23, 2014.
John does not talk to me anymore. You know how much it makes me suffer, how often it has made me shed tears and how often I've gotten my pillow wet shedding them.
Dylan, I think I have found my love. I think I love Emma. But I'm too afraid to tell her. You know we're such good friends. I can ill afford to lose her friendship. If she should turn her back on me, I'll be deserted! Now that I've lost John too, I don't want to lose anyone else.
I know John wants her to be his. But, Dylan, he doesn't know the depth of my love for Emma, how much I need her. You are my most intent listener, Dylan. I wish you could advise me too.
In the following months, Will and Emma got even closer. Emma had opened up to him, and so had he, to her. They knew all of each other's secrets, or so Will thought. They became a hot topic of discussion among all their peers. Alan would tell Will, "I am very happy for you, pal. You have finally found someone to share yourself with," and Will would silently blush. Emma had brought him out of his shell. He now socialized more and more, flirted with hot girls, played ball with the guys, attended parties, and did everything that normal teens would do. He was happy, happier than ever. He had Emma on his side.
Will, Emma, and Emily had become best of friends, and Emma and Will had become best friends. They used to hang out a lot oftener now. But there was one perplexing thing. Whenever Will was not around, John would take his place, and he'd talk privately to Emma. Whenever they were together, they could hardly be found anywhere in the school. So one day Emily and Will decided to go and find them out. Unfortunately they could hardly get a glimpse of them walking together, and then, they just vanished. Will was very confused. Everything that was going on made his heart go thumping. But Emma had promised to be Will's friend, forever. And he trusted her.
Emma and Will had often exchanged their ideas on love. Emma had told him that she was afraid of love; that love is useless, simply a waste of time. But Will had different views. Being deprived of love throughout his life, he craved for it. He believed in noble love, eternal love. He used to say love based on a particular reason is not love; it simply is attraction. He used to tell Emma, "We should always let our loved one be happy as (s)he wants to be, with whom (s)he wants to be. You see, you can never dictate whom someone should love. So we can never hold someone back to us if that person doesn't want to be held back. All we can do is love them wholeheartedly, unconditionally. Elizabeth Browning always wanted to be loved for love's sake only, and Robert Browning did love her that way. That is what love is, what it should be." Will was idealistic.
It was 2014's December now. Things were the same. Will's suspicion about the growing bond between Emma and John had only become stronger. Nevertheless, Will had by now gathered enough courage to walk up to Emma and ask her out. And he did! He did something he never thought he could do! He confessed his love, asking in return a confession of hers. And he thrived! "Yes" came as the answer, a welcome response.
And so was their relationship kick-started. Their love only went from one height to a higher one. It seemed they were an inseparable pair. They had their first kiss, then another, then more, and then it'd become a daily customary practice. But just as every person who has ever loved and been loved does, they would remember their first kiss until death—Will certainly would.
December 6, 2014.
I am happier than ever Dylan, happier beyond my imagination! I love Emma and she loves me. We kissed today, the first kiss of my life. I shall carry its recollection to the grave. I have the promise of her eternal love. I love her most heartily, most dearly.
Unfortunately for Will, he was oblivious to the fact that things now were more complicated than ever. John entered his life, again. They became good friends, again. And he was a party to each of Emma and Will's outing. Emma sometimes spoon-fed John, with Will watching and fuming inside. They often hugged each other tightly, and clicked cozy photos, as if spoon-feeding wasn't enough already. Will's doubt had started gaining ground.
Emma, who used to call up Will often, now often missed his calls. Something was certainly too wrong. One day, Emma paid him a surprise visit. Will surely was surprised! They talked for a long time, and then went out for a walk. It was evening. It was then when Emma confided in Will an arrow, it's barb dipped in the most poisonous poison. She asked him, almost whispering, "Can I tell you something?" "Sure," Will replied with a high spirit.
"John and I had been to a movie last week."
"So?"
"You are my confidante. I can't keep it hidden from you for long. That day, we kissed. We didn't know we'd do that, but we just did, in the heat of the moment."
Will was silent. Two tear drops had started rolling down his cheeks.
In all of what Emma told Will following that, it seemed like a whole entirely new body of knowledge had been revealed to him. Emma and John had been together since a long time. They'd been very, very close. They'd hugged, kissed, and even slept together! This was too much for Will to swallow.
"But why Emma, why did you cheat on me?" Will inquired angrily, on the verge of bursting into tears.
"I didn't cheat on you Will! I have always loved you."
"Then, what is this about you and John?!"
"I love him too! Wasn't it you yourself who told me that people should let their loved ones be happy as they want to be and with whom they want to be? Where are your ideals now, Will? I have found my happiness with him, Will. And I think I love him more than you now."
"But you promised me love. You promised me fidelity!" Will shouted.
"Goodbye Will. Be happy in your life. I hope you find a better partner than me. John will be waiting for me tonight. I must go."
Emma left. From William Carter's life too. Forever. She left him to tear his hair in despair, and die. He sat down on the street itself, shocked; trying to figure out what had been to pass.
Cracks develop in the hardest of things, unseen, unnoticed until they become large enough to drive the substance once hard as diamond to the brink of fragility. And then, they await the last small blow to the substance. It breaks into uncountable pieces, but doesn't vanish from the face of earth—it bears testimony of how small cracks build a valley.
Coming back to his senses, Will ran, with all conceivable speed, to his room to find solace in Dylan's pages. He was sobbing angrily, his face wet with tears running down like uncontrolled streams down his eyes that had turned red—with anger, with sadness, with everything that had happened to him.
What was his mistake? What was missing in him that was there in John? Why didn't Emma love him and him only? Why he, of all people, was suffering this? No, he was not to blame. He wanted Emma all to himself, ever since they fell in love. But he realized, you can remain idealistic only till your love remains unrequited.
So there he lay awkwardly on his bed, with his diary close to him and a pen lying a little far away, crying like a child, like when he had lost the most precious people in his life—his parents. Only this time, he had lost a different person—Emma, of all people.