Magic Word Pt. 01

Writer's note:

Instead of referring to "characters" of mine by letters, how about a nick name? Hm, guess I need to nickname myself too. Blue it is.

And I've done it again. Confessed my feeling of "being charmed" to the charming subject, eight or nine months since our first chat, with the sidenote "Hey I'll get over it, I just wanna be friends! :)"

Of course I don't just want to be friends. And of course, 'charmed' expands to things like sexual attraction, nonsexual, longing, and excitement...which aren't exactly easy to get over. And great, this time the subject, let's call him Square, will remain very much in my life, on a weekly basis, once the summer passes.

I analyzed my text messages in my blue make-do-journal soon after, trying to understand the fuck I did...why the sudden urge to reveal myself to him. Two reasons were identified: One, I don't believe you feel the same way. Two, by the clearly unlikely chance that you also feel something deep...I'm not ready for a serious relationship. So, better to halt this thing before it gets real for the both of us.

And yee-haw, no need to worry about the latter reason at all. By the fact that he didn't respond, didn't go "You sure you only wanna be friends? Cause I'd like something more ;)", I have to conclude that whatever floats between us is one-sided, again. The mixed feeling of blues and relief is all I have to worry about now.

~ ~ ~

Fuck, he'll be infront of me in...perhaps half a minute. I should have turned down showing up...I mean, do we really need three bodies for this? Well, guess we do...a table-sitter, a pad-holder, and a show-off to bring some fresh faces into the magic of Taekwondo, yee-haw. I should have gotten eight hours of sleep for this.

"Look, people are coming in! Aww, look at them! So intimidated."

"Those are the rare, quiet ones. The packs of judgmental, got-nothing-better-to-do folks will crowd this place in no time. At least the loud asses will be away, getting high and drunk."

"New president! Don't be so hostile!" exclaims Doc, our ex-president who laughs at everything, "I know you're not a people person, but act like it! We've got two hours to go here!"

"...thanks for the reminder."

I can't help but smile at their interaction. It seems that in our club, ranging from to-be-nineteens to middle-aged breadwinners, from bright-eyed dreamers to disinflated souls, there's always room for amusing conversations.

"Wanna boost your energy with some kicks?" I suggest, trying to upright the heavy pad, "I still don't know which moves you'll be-"

"Hey," fuck, "Sorry I'm late."

"Nah, you're on time! We're still getting set up. There's just some early birds!"

"Yep, we still got LOTS of time. And sure, might as well. Hold it side-facing first, to your...left."

"Oh, yea, alright."

And he's in my sight, having circled to the other side of the table. He hasn't changed yet, instead dressed in that cute, mixed-colored flannel longsleeve which he wore to the TED event. He shaved, but his awkward, hay-colored bangs are getting long, covering his thick eyebrows. Blue-ish eyes meets mine, a bright smile...

I force myself not to break the eye contact, not until I utter a "hi". He returns a "hey". Here it is, the awkwardness. Yet, to be fair, it hasn't been normal for me since I realized my first sparks of attract-

SLAM!!

"Holy, Pres! She wasn't ready!" Doc rushes over, brushing through club stickers which have scattered onto the floor, "Blue! Are you okay?!"

Apparently not. Face scrunched up, half-standing, I can barely make out the look on Pres's face.

"...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I should have checked with-"

"It's alright," I said as soon as possible, "I wasn't looking...I'll recover in a bit..."

"Sit down first," Doc says, a chair magically at her hand, "And have some water!"

"Haha, I'm alright...just got off-balance."

"Tell me if you feel any remaining pain, after some water."

"...you shouldn't have stood right by the table," him, pointing out the obvious, "I can hold the pads, if you're not feeling it today."

"Yea, go ahead. We can rotate."

I can't help feeling blue, and idiotical, as I walk back from the clubs fair. My conclusion had been confirmed...there's not a pinch of mutuality between him and me. If there ever was any, as I've interpreted from his responses, there's nothing now.

It's passed ten by the time I got back, the sky a dark shade of blue. Staying back to clear things up always comes with the price of time and energy...though, despite his lack of attention, I enjoyed hanging a bit longer around him, listening to his enthusiastic and professional rant about his internship of cell studies and such in Japan. How does physical engineering relate to cells? In many ways, I suppose.

~ ~ ~

...

I'm floating in space. In...the outer universe? How the fuck did I get here?

Stars and colors twinkle in far distances. A spark of light—in a color I can't name—is expanding, halting when it grew to about the size of my hand. I try to touch it, but it's just out of reach.

Blue, do you believe in magic?

What in fuck's name?? The blob of light is talking to me? I can't seem to name the language either...

No need to fright. Think of me as a fairy, if you'd like. Something you can understand.

"I doubt I understand what those are...and you're more of some blob of energy in outer space than a cute, human-looking creature with wings, which I've known to live in the woods...or like, a field of flowers."

Haha maybe so, but I do the same work as the fairies which your world portrays.

"That being magic?"

Yes.

"Well, what wish have you come to grant? All good people get good lives, and all bad people get good lives too?"

No...no being I know can grant a wish that ambitious.

"Yea, it's just a silly thought."

I came to unite you with your lover, if your energies prove to complement each other.

My...lover?

"Square?"

You can rest assured that he does feel something back. Something much stronger, actually.

"Yea right."

He's just held back by reason, or as we call it, a lack of impulse.

"Sure. How do you plan on solving that then?"

By lending your impulse to him, every time you direct the word "impulse" at him.

This sounds interesting.

"So you're an impulse-lending fairy then? Do I have that much impulse to lend?"

You tell me.

Fine, they're right. Fucking screen spree, food spree, sex spree...I can spree on much things.

"You got me. But this magic thing...I don't buy it. I can't be in outer space. This must be a dre-"

I jolt awake.

Classic...message delivered by a dream, but clearly fictional. Odd, my heart isn't racing, which usually happens when I wake myself up. Well, doesn't hurt to pay the washroom a visit. Drowsiness has faded, and I'll have to lie awake for a while, thinking about anything but Square. Fuck, why must I still dream about him?