#hellmori

By the age of fourteen, John and Emori were inseparable. They walked to school together, they had lunch, they stood up for each other whenever someone mocked them. Emori actually punched one of their colleagues for insulting John, which got her a bloody knuckle and a three-day suspension – if you asked her, she’d say that it was worth the stinging pain in her right hand and every lecture she got, from her brother to the school principal.

Emori helped John with his homework whenever he was struggling with a math problem, and he helped her every time she had no idea where to start writing an English paper. They would sleep in the same room, she on the bed, he on an air mattress by her bedside, both falling in a world of dreams, where their path would cross in each one of them.

One year later, Emori had her first kiss. The feeling of being beat to it by his best friend wasn’t as unsettling as the fact that someone as cool and smart as Emori would want to kiss a guy as stupid as the boy she hooked up with. John thought she sure deserved better.

Whenever she talked about the kiss or the boy, something bubbled inside his chest, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say it made him feel weird. There were times when he’d want to turn his back and cold-shoulder her, especially when she justified her delay for being insecure about her hand, saying he was the first one to not reject her for it.

In John’s mind, a lot was wrong in her allegation. A, John didn’t give a damn about how old she would be when she kissed someone for the first time, and B, he had always said how badass her hand was, how she shouldn’t feel the need to hide it – how could she say that that guy was the first one? That was unacceptable.

Now, his lack of interest in having his first kiss always annoyed Emori to a point where she couldn’t stop asking him why he hasn’t done it yet. John tried to answer it politely the first couple of times, but his bad temper eventually made its way to the surface, retorting he didn’t want to kiss someone just because people said he should. That resulted in a one week fight, in which they would only talk to each other through Otan or one of their mutual friends, especially Raven or Monty, depending on where they were.

When John was old enough, the sleepovers and silly fights stayed in the past, and he had to face his fears. His mom still drank like that was the only possible thing in life, and her neglect wasn’t as surprising as it was when he was little. With the passing years also came the responsibilities; John started working part-time at a coffee shop downtown at the same time he studied for his SAT. He and Emori had discussed college plans, and he couldn’t wait to get out of that house, to move on far away from the ghosts of his past and the monsters of his present life – there was no way he would screw this up.

Emori would often doubt of her college potential, saying she wasn’t that smart, and why would any college want her? What does she have to offer to the academic world? John just thought that was nonsense, there was no need for her to be that nervous – even though their only hope of getting a better life was to move out and go to college, but she didn’t need to be reminded of that – and he took every chance he got to assure her she was brilliant.

The day Emori got her acceptance letter, John hadn’t received his yet. His heart was torn between being happy for her and being devastated for losing the only good thing in his life. And what the hell would he do without her? It was so easy for the broken and self-destructive part of his brain to believe that his fate was being stuck in a city he hates, with people that despise him, away from the one person he cares about. The damaged part of him drifted to all the ways Emori would forget him and move on without him. How she would graduate, get a job, a house, and eventually find someone to spend her life with. She would build a home and a family, in which there would be no place for him. With time, he would be nothing more than a faded memory in the corner of her brain, just a dusty fragment of her life racing into oblivion.

A week after John cried himself to sleep every night and Emori ran out of tears at the idea of moving away without her best friend, his letter arrived on the mail. The envelope was crumpled, the corners slightly damaged by what looked like water – and God knows what happened to it – but it was finally there.

John held the paper in his hands, his trembling fingers wrinkling it even more. “I can’t do it, you need to open it for me.”

As Emori took the envelope from his hands and read the words carefully, the way her face lit up with it didn’t leave any doubt. “You got in, John.”

He widened his blue eyes. “I got– I got in?”

Her lips molded into the most radiant smile while she lurched forward, the impact of her body on his making John lose balance and hit the wall behind him.

“Ow.”

Emori chuckled, caressing the spot on his head that collided with the wall. “Sorry.”

He laughed, and she hugged him so tight it got him paying attention to how the smell of her hair was so vivid inside his nostrils, to how her chest was crushed against his, to how close she was to his –

“I’m so proud of you,” Emori whispered in his ear.

She kissed his cheek, lingering on his skin more than she usually did, but he banished every theory that dared to pop into his mind – they were just friends, it’s not like anything past that was ever going to happen.

“Thanks.”

Abandoning all the pain and harm in his past life, John and Emori rented a house with their group of friends – Raven, Bellamy, Monty, Echo, and Harper. Each of them would go their own way during classes, from English literature to history, chemistry to sociology, anatomy to calculus. They all shared one class, though – astronomy – and the fact that they used that to name their group space squad made John feel like they were still in middle school at the same time it warmed his heart for being a part of something that good.

During their sophomore year, John lost his mother – not that the woman who beat the crap out of him and remembered him every day of how he got his father killed was his mom, but still. Emori insisted in accompanying him, saying he shouldn’t go through that alone, and together, they hopped on the next plane. Back at their hometown, Emori and Otan helped John with the funeral, even though there was no one to attend to. John watched his mother be laid to rest by his father’s side with Emori’s hand in his, her grip guaranteeing that she was there for him and that he would never be alone or hurt again for as long as her heart beat.

On their way back to Emori and Otan’s house, thunders traveled through the sky and bolts of white lightning flashed in the blackness above them, announcing the rain that would soon pour down. As John stood on the sidewalk, just a few meters away from the faded blue house with the brown lawn and the broken windows, cool raindrops fell on his face, wiping his soul clean. Emori held him close, her arms wrapped around his neck while the ache, guilt, and resentment that had been consuming his body for years left alongside with his tears, the rain washing it all away. Around them, the blinding light and the rolling thunders reminded him that even the strongest of storms would eventually be over.

As their graduation day grew closer, John could barely believe that he, the guy who thought he wasn’t worth or capable of having a future and building a life for himself, was actually graduating in something he loved. Emori still mocked him, saying he was already a softie before majoring in English Literature. John, of course, didn’t miss the opportunity, replying she already spaced out a lot, she didn’t need an Aerospace Engineering degree to attest that.

When their graduation took place, John and Emori had met before the ceremony. He was wearing a white dress shirt, black pants, and formal shoes, the light blue tie around his neck only making him uncomfortable. At the moment his eyes landed on Emori, his heart skipped a beat, and he had to remind himself to breathe. Walking towards him, there she was, smiling so brightly in a long black dress, her arms and hands unconcealed.  He was momentarily stunned at the sight of her fleshy lips tinted red, her short hair curled down her back, her formal dress bringing out the curves of her body.

He cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together as his eyes denied his command, getting an eyeful of her. “Wow, you look– you look beautiful.”  

With her high heels shoes on, she was almost the same height as he, about two inches shorter. Emori scanned his body up and down, raising a hand to put a lock of his hair back into place. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

During the ceremony, as he held his diploma in his hand, the black academic dress weighing on his body, he watched Emori walk across the stage. All the way, she held a blinding smile on her lips, her badass hand holding the diploma cover, her cap restraining the curly locks of her hair from dancing in the wind. John was pretty sure she was the most beautiful girl in the room, hands down. She walked towards her row, winking at him on her way back, and he didn’t know if it was the thrill of graduation or if he was having other sorts of feelings, but it made his cheeks flush and his heart flutters inside his chest.

In that same year, space squad spent New Year’s Eve on the front yard of their house, drinking bubbly champagne and watching as fireworks painted the sky. They were one step behind the new year, and John couldn’t stop thinking about Emori’s honest yet drunk proposal in their graduation party, saying they should kiss at midnight if neither of them had a date. Was that why he turned down the cute girl from his creative writing class when she reached out to him a week after their graduation?

With every passing second, his heart hammered harder in his chest. He was being stupid again, obviously. Emori probably didn’t even remember she had said that, it was just a funny thing to say at the moment because they were both dancing and laughing like crazy.

Ten, nine, eight–

“Hey, stranger.”

Drawing his eyes from the cheerful sky, Emori wrapped her arms around him, resting a hand on the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair, giving him goosebumps.

“Hey,” he answered, not fighting the goofy smile on his lips.

She smiled shyly. “Is our deal still on?”

Okay, so she did remember it. In his mind, knowing that she was conscious when that offer took place would make things easier, but it was not that simple in reality. Did that mean she was being serious? That she wanted it to happen? Was she looking forward to it too?

John nodded, swallowing the anxious laugh that tried to emerge from him. Emori nodded back.

Three, two, one!

“Happy New Year,” she whispered against his lips.

Feeling her smile, he took her mouth in his, just a quick and soft peck on the lips for his lack of experience. He told himself he was fine with it because what if he was sloppy or had bad breath or if he clashed his teeth with hers if he dared to deepen the kiss? Oh God, how embarrassing would that be?

Emori, on the other hand, didn’t share the same concern. After he reluctantly released her, she kissed him once, then again, and again, and again, until all his insecurities melted away and her bottom lip was trapped between his.

The whistling and popping sounds of the glowing fireworks above them could easily be mistaken by the ones inside his chest, the technicolor explosion of her lips tinting his monochromatic heart.

Emori jolted him when she unexpectedly broke their kiss, his whole body shivering with the sudden loss of her warmth. They both stared at each other, gasping and panting, taking in what had just happened. John glanced at her lips, at how her lipstick was a little smudged by then.

He pointed at his mouth. “You have– just a little bit–”

Emori frowned.

He groaned at his ridiculous incoherence and exasperated attempt to sound cool about the kiss, but his brain seemed like it had liquified with the taste of her tongue. John reached for her, brushing his thumb softly on her bottom lip, trying to wipe the lipstick off her skin. Her gaze and parted lips didn’t help, of course, as he caught himself drawn by them again.

She thanked him, taking a step back. “Happy New Year, John.”

He watched as she walked away, glancing over her shoulder once before joining Raven on the porch. “Happy New Year, Mori.”

The kiss subject died there.

Two years later, with Emori working in an aerospace manufacturer and John as a high school teacher, he finally started dating but, of course, the universe had to conspire against him, making his girlfriend overflow with hate for his best friend. The first time they met, John thought Ontari would stab Emori with a fork as she watched them hug, burning Emori alive with her unkind gaze. In the beginning, he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him now that he finally had someone, that he was overreacting, and Ontari wasn’t that jealous of him.

A few months went by and John moved in with Ontari. If you asked Emori for her opinion on that matter, she would say he was blind, and that living together was the biggest mistake of his life. The thing was that yes, perhaps Ontari was a bit violent sometimes, but it was nothing he hadn’t experienced before. Besides, he really didn’t think he was the kind of guy who could be loved so fondly it made people want to throw up. No, the only type of love he knew was the one that hurt and bled and stung, and that was all he expected of others.

When he first reconsidered his relationship with Ontari, Emori had just seen the bruises on his face, a dark circle on his cheek, his swollen bottom lip from a cut. There had others before that time; slaps to the face, punches to the gut, a cigarette burn once on his chest – some of them weren’t visible, and if they were, John was really good in hiding them.

Emori, holding his face in both of her hands, brushed her thumb softly on the unharmed part of his lip, her eyes evaluating the lesions. “Did she do this to you?”

“It was nothing.”

“Like hell it was.”

She tilted his head to get a better look at the purple coloring his cheek, shaking her head. “She’s hurting you.”

Emori sighed, dropping her hands by her side. “You can’t keep doing this, John. You don’t deserve this.”

John snorted. “What is it? Is it because I started dating? Are you jealous or something?”

Emori huffed. “That isn’t dating, John. It’s abuse.”

“No, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That same night, Ontari wasn’t so pleased after knowing he met Emori, just the two of them. All the while he tried to explain they were just friends, she had him pinned against a wall, her hands locked around his throat. With shortness of breath, his mind took him to his best friend, to her worried words, the gentleness in her eyes, the touch of her skin on his lips. Oh, how he wished he had listened to her.

He waited until Ontari had had enough, choking him and forcing him to do things he really didn’t want to, letting her fall into a peaceful sleep before gathering all his things and heading to Emori’s place. He knew better than to hang around and wait to end things nicely – there was no nice with Ontari. She had hurt him before, several times, but that was the first time he felt scared. He was not going to put up with it anymore, not after what he’d been through with his mom, that was for sure.

Emori’s jaw dropped at the same instant she opened the door, noticing the purple bruise circling his throat. She reached for him, her hesitant fingers brushing lightly on the mark, her touch sending shivers down his spine.

Her voice was low. “What happened?”

“You were right,” John replied, taken over by embarrassment. “Can I stay here for a few days?”

Emori wrapped her hands around his waist, nodding against his chest. “Stay as long as you need.”

John held her tightly, arguing with his mind to keep his mouth shut, to not expose ten years of bottled up feelings in that specific moment. Maybe he could tell her some other time, when the Ontari situation was already lost in the past. But what if he was too late? Could he ever bear seeing the woman he loves with another guy or girl?

Should he continue to ignore his emotions, and move on with her being just his friend? Or should he hold on to the tiny string of hope he had inside him? Well, they did kiss two years ago – did she remember it? Did she want it? Did she like it?

“Is it over?” Emori asked against his sweater, the vibration of her voice provoking an earthquake inside his chest.

He nodded. “I mean, not really. But she would’ve followed me if I had stuck around. I couldn’t, Mori, I–”

She held him tighter, caressing the space between his shoulder blades. “I know, I know.”

Emori pulled back, her questioning eyes staring at him. “But you don’t… love her, do you? I mean, you’re not coming back to her, right?”

John denied, shaking his head. Acting out of fear, and with the thought of “better said than sorry” in his mind, he plucked up the courage, forcing the words out, “That was never gonna work.”

“Yeah, but you don’t–”

“No, Emori, I could never love her,” John cut her off. He sighed, closing his eyes. “I can’t because she’s never gonna be you.”

“John?” She called him, her endearing voice making his eyelids fly open instantly.

Her bottom lip trembled, her kind brown eyes melting before his. “I need you to tell me something.”

“What?” He whispered.

“I need to know how you really feel…” she said, “about me.”

“Mori, I–“

John sighed. He always had a deep passion for words. How someone always came up with the right thing to say or write, the pleasant sound of each letter combination, the infinite interpretation of sentences. Words always sounded so beautiful, so pure, so meaningful, but, at the same time, so meaningless. When it came to express his own feelings, no matter how hard he tried, words would never express the same magnitude as his actions. Maybe he wasn’t able to tell her, but maybe he could show her.

He cupped her face, slowly narrowing the gap between them, a part of his brain still certain that she was going to push him off and slap him in the face. When he saw her eyelids close, John brushed his lips against hers, feeling the warm, minty breath from her parted ones, the reluctance yet magnetic pull between their mouths. Emori circled her arms around his middle, her hands exploring the soft wool of his sweater under her palms.

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, and he smiled widely, feeling his heart fuss inside his chest.

Emori made sure not to meet his bruised lip, her mouth kissing the corner of his and taking the liberty to lock his top lip between hers as he tangled his hands in her hair, smelling the scent of her shampoo just as vivid as that day she hugged him, the day he realized another switch had turned on inside his heart. His lips tingled from the electrical sparks her touch gave him, exactly like the first time they kissed, and his body frequently gasped for air with every slide of her hands on his back.

Emori rested her forehead against his, both of them sharing the same air, the quick rise and fall of their chests trying to catch their breath. Years of unspoken feelings floated around them, dancing and twirling in the cold winter breeze, celebrating their freedom, as they held onto each other.

John shook his head. “I’ve been feeling this for so long.”

Emori chuckled. “Me too.”

She softly brushed a knuckle on his cheek, lowering her hand to the colored circle around his throat, placing a gentle kiss on his bruised skin.

“I promise I’ll never hurt you,” she whispered against his neck.

He nodded, swallowing hard, taking her face in both his hands to look into her eyes. “What do we do now?”

Emori smiled. “Now,” she said, laying a soft kiss on his lips, “we allow ourselves to be happy.”

A lopsided smile took shape in his mouth. “No more wasting time.”