I walk up a stairwell slowly. Exhaustion encumbers my feet. I tread against the river of students moving the other way, rushing downstairs to eat lunch.

A part of me sighs internally. I think of him, but the light has changed. Things have changed. Things are different. A new bulb in my mind switched on, knowing the truth behind the front he projects.

*

They did start going out, my friend and him. She and I talk on the bus, the hum of the engine and the drawl of children drowning out the noise of our conversation. A conversation filled with hidden knowledge and normally-unspoken, worrying confessions. My loyalties weigh heavily. I find myself flare in anger at him as she tells me things; things he says to her, things I find incomprehensible.

There is a new side to him. The lustre has faded and now I can see the real, tarnished version.

A person who I would never have feelings for. A person in which I do not associate. A person whom I do not recognize.

*

I reach the top of the stairwell and glide into the room where this all started… where the feelings were first birthed into my life. I dart around, talking and laughing to friends yet all the while looking for him, wondering where he is. Wondering why I care. Wondering why any of it matters when my feelings have been suppressed and subsided into nothingness.

There’s a sense of tension that still remains between us, me and him. He social butterflies around the place, leaving traces of himself for people to return. My friends seem to dislike him, yet all the while I can’t help feel an amicability between us. He made me feel, yet all the same I can’t help but wonder whether or not there’s anything of substance below the surface of our banal, empty transactions.

*

I glance out the window, watching a band of smokers come from the bridge where they attempt to conceal their dirty habit. I name each of the people, The Boy’s name coming to mind as I notice him walking in the death-stick crowd. They trundle between cars before disappearing from sight behind a wall and into school. The white noise of the library silently amplifies a silent truth which I soon realize.

A friend and I laugh with each other. We talk about friends and life and university. There is no expectation, no need to wear a mask — she does not know about The Boy. About the emotional rollercoaster. I am open and I am closed.

She leaves for a while and I’m left with the hum of the ventilation acting as a backdrop to my thoughts; they swirl around haphazardly, waiting for a conclusion to burst from underneath. There is no conclusion or dramatic ending. No bang and no eureka.

*

Some friends and I are sitting and watching as he speaks with a teacher semi-privately. He glances over and makes a facial gesture. His girlfriend, A, quietly screeches with excitement. A part of me can’t help feel a split in the relationship, his behaviour sporadically forceful, hers reactive to his mood. A part of my mind sirens. There is something gently anxiety-inducing about their relationship.

I sit back and watch the world for moments. Each one passes, and I can’t help but feel like this new year has entered a new chapter in my life. There is a difference. The deep fracture in their relationship only seems to highlight the new ones in my own psyche.

A darkness still exists deep inside yet the sun of hope has dawned on my life once again.

I am no longer bound by a fatal obligation.

I am not in love with this boy.