Enigmatic Emotions

(iii) Deep blue & Light green

"I never travel without my diary.
One should always have something
sensational to read in the train."

-Oscar Wilde

He was far from being a poet, but Alan could fill endless pages about those blue eyes. Biting his lower lip, he let his pen run wild. The words in his head flowed into scribbles of ink. He didn't care that what he wrote was illegible. In fact, it was an advantage. He himself knew exactly what it said because it was engraved in his mind.

Like an explosion of colour in a black-and-white world, you fill my horizons. Of all the stars in the sky, I only want to reach for you. Of all the water in the ocean, I choose your eyes to drown in. If this is love, then why does it hurt so much?

Alan rested his head on the hard bed frame. He was getting ahead of himself. Last summer he had still managed to ignore those feelings, but now... Now he could beat himself up for being so naive with his heart.

Maybe he could submit the poem for the English assignment, surely it would be his best grade for that clas

He pictured the amiable teacher patting him on the back with too much force. How he thought he was giving a compliment when he would say, "Turing is going to be a real ladies' man with those poems."

An uneasy feeling crept up on him even before he could push it away.

With a slap, he slammed the red diary shut and pressed it to his stomach. Staring at the damp patches on the ceiling of his room, he thought of the nefarious plan Chris had devised. Making use of the brief adrenaline rush, he rolled onto his elbow. This could not go wrong. It would get Chris kicked out of school and he didn't want to be responsible for that. On the other hand, it promised to be another eventful day.

"What are you smirking about?" That cheeky remark was uttered by the boy next to him. Blamey was sitting cross-legged on his bed, back against the wall. Beneath long ginger eyelashes, two eyes stared at Alan.

Unaware of how long he had been staring, Alan wiped the grin off his face. The bed squeaked as he got up, holding the little red book protectively against him.

"Were you writing about me?" he asked curiously, almost sincerely. Alan uncomprehendingly raised an eyebrow. "About how you're going to swap me with a better roommate in my sleep?" Blamey tapped his fingers against his temple. "You may think me to be dim-witted, but I'm not deaf you know. I heard you plotting the avenging of a classmate."

Alan laughed, though he felt caught. "You're giving yourself too much credit, but go on and I'll consider it." Blamey sometimes got on his nerves, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. The boy had been a common thread throughout his school career. For years, he had been the only one closest to a friend. Now he knew better.

Blamey took a relieved breath, satisfied that he was not the one to first-handily experience Alan's revenge.

Alan was glad he didn't ask who he was talking about instead. As the headmaster's pet, he was no doubt going to tell Boughey.

With his arms still wrapped around the diary, Alan staggered towards the small desk. When he glanced outside, he saw what he had already expected: rain. Drops rolled down the window, the green lawn had turned into a mud puddle. He opened the drawer a placed the book carefully among the countless letters from Chris and his mother that were so dear to him.

He was fiddling with the lock of the slider when Blamey let out a shriek. With the key still in his hand, he turned around.

The red-haired boy jumped up from his bed and hurriedly began searching for his jacket. Once he had smoothed out his tie, he explained himself. "Class is starting. Another reason not to dispose of me, you would never make it on time. Let alone even go to class."