As Olette slips on that pretty blue dress, all she can think about is how wrong it is. How wrong it is to be getting all dolled up for nothing, a little blush here and a swipe of mascara there and a splash of mandarin orange perfume on her collarbone. How wrong it is to slip on a pair of brand new shoes when she can't even walk straight, and how wrong it is to call Pence when she doesn't want to talk to anyone in the first place. How wrong it is to be having her first date with Hayner when she doesn't even like him, and how worse, much worse it is to have the blond boy with the deep, blue eyes wandering in the back of her mind, just willing to let out and tear everything apart.
He wasn't supposed to exist.
She can imagine the scenario now; how she'll walk into Pence's house and how he'll smile and blush and compliment her right as he closes the door behind them. She'll catch Hayner out of the corner of her eye, and he'll be sitting on the couch most likely, watching reality shows that no one likes but everyone watches anyway. He'll probably glance at her and burst out laughing—good naturedly, of course. "You look so girly," he'll say, smirking at her attire and she'll probably shake her head and laugh; she knows he'll do something like that, because it's Hayner. It won't matter much anyways, because she'll be too busy looking around the living room, searching every nook and cranny with her pea green eyes to find that blond haired boy with the deep, blue eyes. She knows she will.
He wasn't supposed to haunt her, just like she wasn't supposed to remember him.
But they both broke that rule, shattering it into non-existent pieces that couldn't prove if there were any rules in the first place. Combing her fingers through her hair, Olette stares at her reflection in the mirror, searching for something that she won't find, just looking and scrutinizing and digging deep into her own eyes to see if there's something there that shouldn't be; but all she sees is a pretty face and dull, dull eyes. All she hears is the fast thumping of her heart, all she tastes is the trace of mint toothpaste that was left on her tongue, and all she can feel is the numb wake of an unknown force taking over for a reason she can't make sense of. It's pulling her in and out of consciousness, rattling her feelings and thoughts and everything else until she remembers memories she was supposed to forget.
The memories that weren't supposed to exist.
She remembers and sees events that have never happened, or at least, she thinks it never happened; but something is pulling her in, tugging and yanking the strings of her heart till it's too much to resist. She lets it take over, lets him enshroud her in darkness only to have it pulled off her head. Faced with bright lights and familiar faces in less than an instant, she was baffled, jaw dropped and eyes wide open as she feels body heat generate between her hand and another's. Fingers fit together perfectly, clasping each other tight and Olette blushes as he rubs his thumb over hers, whispering a little "I love you" into her ear. It ends there except doesn't, because she sees empty movie theaters and feels lips pressed against hers, and she sits at little restaurant booths with wax quickly melting under a candle flame. Those were the times where she felt herself rub her leg against his, laughing as she felt bare skin against hers and she teases him because he barely has any hair on his legs. She remembers him rolling his eyes at her, commenting that she'd probably wouldn't like hairy legs, and besides; his legs are probably smoother than hers, and with that said he got a hard kick in the shin. Those memories pass by and suddenly, she sees herself sitting in his lap as she yells at him, telling him that he's going to lose the game if he keeps fighting at that pace. She remembers him tickling her sides as she finally steals the game controller from his grasp, callused fingers jabbing her stomach as forgotten homework is knocked off the couch. Not that it matters, anyway; she makes him do his homework as soon as the game system is turned off. She remembers standing under the mistletoe at one of the elder's Christmas Eve parties, laughing and resisting as he tries to kiss her even though he doesn't celebrate Christmas in the first place. She remembers explaining to him kissing under the mistletoe is a Christmas tradition, but he just rolled his eyes and forced his lips on her forehead at the most, not caring that the adults didn't approve of their public display of affection. She remembers one of the elders scolding 'good little Olette,' telling her that she's too young to be in 'love' with her boyfriend at this age, but Olette refuses to listen, instead choosing to walk away before Miss Erickson decides to blow a real fuse. "You're never too young to be in love," Olette remembers saying word for word, a passionate gleam in her eyes that showed she was being faithful. "She's been around that boy too much for her own good," Olette remembers hearing the woman say as she walks away, and the girl simply laughs, happy with her recognition of being in love; happy with realizing that she gave the right boy the right chances that worked out all right in the end, the boy with the blond hair and blue eyes. But then, for some reason—just as Olette was finally comprehending her memories—her remembrance started to destroy every little event piece by piece.
Olette remembers empty responses and dead silence, remembers insincere kisses until there were no more kisses at all. She sees broken promises and a broken boy with thoughts that troubled him, thoughts that she just couldn't understand. There was sea salt ice cream left to melt in his grasp, the ache of something she couldn't figure out weighing down on his shoulders, and there was a heart of their love—the little pieces of love left over—plastered on his sleeve, tattered, bruised and broken until you couldn't even recognize it.
Olette remembers spending her time hopelessly hoping that things would turn out okay. Soon he'll be back to his regular self, she thinks, all fun and tough but loving and alive, and then everyone else would be back to their regular selves too. Hayner will stop being angry and Pence will stop comforting her and maybe Olette herself will be back to normal. She thought and hoped until it became her dream, but in days her dreams simply blew apart, just as her heart did—right until it bled and crumbled into broken pieces.
There was no more boy. No more Roxas.
Soon enough Olette's shaken out of her trance, forced to stop remembering because that's all there was to remember. Her dark green eyes are now rimmed with red, blurry with stinging hot tears that ran down her face and made her cheeks bleed pink. It made her lashes drip with black ink, and her thoughts started to run wild with anxiety. Now she doesn't know reality from fiction, doesn't know what to believe; she doesn't want to believe in the web of abandoned memories that he had wove, the web that is suffocating her until she won't be able to breathe from guilt. She doesn't want to believe that boy was real, doesn't want to believe they've been through so much together and she doesn't want to believe that all their endeavors were torn to shreds. She doesn't want to believe she was in love with a boy who she didn't remember meeting until now.
But she can't help but believe, because it's in her mind, running hysterically and making her head hurt and making her heart ache with a pain that'll stay there for years. She can't forget anymore.
She rubs ferociously at her face, smearing her makeup onto the palms of her hands and spreading it until everything was tainted black. I should've bought the tearproof brand, Olette thinks dreadfully, staring at her dull, dull eyes that were blackened with dripping mascara, her hot tears making it run down her face even more until it dripped onto her blue, blue dress. Olette will never be able to fix this mess.
Hayner's going to have to take a rain check.
♪♪
For Loren's challenge. ;D
Topic was 'First Date.'
And I hope this counts for it.