LOVE

The funny thing about humanity is that one thing surely binds us. Nature seeks it as if it were a component of it, and the universe accounts for it in every individual in the universe; whoever does not understand the word is not a human, because it develops from childhood to adolescence and from youth to old age. The word "love" is one that I ponder and question. Subjectively, it began with apprehension, some nostalgia for fear, and a salty pickle of hope. The strange thing about Leniey and I is that we never talked about that night out, nor about the drink or dinner. We became distant, like strangers. Classes became the norm, and everyone avoided eye contact with each other. The semester was about to reach its deadline, and soon we'd do our exams. My last show was on Saturday of this week, and it was well worth the wait because the tickets were cheap

My dates were numbered at this university, for soon I'd travel for my scholarship in the United Kingdom. I loved psychology and all sorts of things that surrounded it, but my parents knew my innate adoration for drama and writing wouldn't be surpassed by psychology. My alternative idea, which combined psychology with my passion, was this: listening to my clients and writing their stories. Despite that, I inwardly knew my plan was against the terms and conditions of the confidentiality needed by a psychologist. Either way, I did not expect the acceptance of my scholarship; I would liken it to tossing a coin, believing that if it works, thank God, and if it doesn't, thank him adversely. I wished to leave my East African country in the hopes of studying literature, and I was fortunate.

After realizing my scholarship had been accepted and I was expected to report at the start of January next year, I knew I was not meant to stay. Despite the acceptance, I had nine months until my departure. Don't question why I told you about that, dearest reader, but I don't wish to gaslight you on my departure. Despite the distance between Leniey and I, we could feel each other. Have you ever loved someone but didn't have the courage to approach them? Leniey stared from a far. He'd look at me when I walked into class and right when I was leaving. He always noticed me, and so did I. I noticed his jealous look when I hugged any boy in class, his fist clench when I laughed with Jake, and how he nervously fidgeted when I joined him in some discussion with his friends. It was as if he was feeling something but wasn't sure if he should act on it. Currently, I am sitting at my rental, typing my assignment, when a knock is heard from my door. I'm sure that's my neighbor borrowing something again. She's always borrowing something; if not salt, it's sugar; if not sugar, it's match sticks, but I don't mind because she sometimes saves me. She sometimes calls me to share dinner with her when she's bought some meat and maybe some rice. I opened the door, stating while laughing, "Hey, what do you want now?" Looking at the shoes, I knew. It wasn't her, but someone. Since nearly weeks ago, I've wished for that someone to knock on my door, ring my phone, or at least speak with me. It was Leniey. He was carrying something, as I could tell even from the darkness where he stood. I just welcomed him in, and he patiently sat in the chair near the table where I was typing. He looked at the assignment and didn't say a word. He had cut off his long locks and now was left with some shaggy short hair at the center, and his slick shaving style didn't change. Despite this, his beard was uncut. He didn't have any, just a couple of line-trimmed side beards that met at the chin. With him sitting on the chair, I decided to sit on the table. Pin-drop silence followed when he raised his eyebrows and looked at me. "Angel,, I." "Angel, I like you. I can't do it, you know. (Uncomfortably scratching his hair) I've had these feelings about you since freshman year. The way you bite your pen when you don't understand a test (chuckles) or the way you nervously rub your hand when excited about something. Honestly, I'm sure I'm not able to hold on to these feelings anymore; I tried so hard not to approach you back then, but I was scared you'd reject me. You were always with your best friend, the cast guy. I know or believe I don't stand a chance, and the crazy thing is, that's what makes me like you even more. You've never really wanted to talk to me much; even my request to join Drama via you was a way to approach you, and thank God it didn't go through. That Monday, Angel, that Monday, we were drunk. I… I hadn't had a good time in a long time, like I did on that day. I have wanted to do this the right way. Maybe I should take you out on a date—some movie dates, some nights out—but I couldn't think of anything. My style of love is different. Can I sing for you? Can I dance to impress you? I can also dance in other ways. Do you recall what I told you that night, or have you forgotten? I knew you'd forget. I told you to text me if you felt the same way." Honestly, he had never talked to me as much as today. He was a little tipsy, I guess. He is not the type to speak much. His words had still left me perplexed. I knew I'd forgotten everything; the only parts I remembered were the ones I'd narrated; everything else was a blur. He had bought me some foodstuffs, snacks, and makeup materials. After finishing his lengthy speech of confession, he stood up and looked at me. I knew he wanted some assurance, some hope, some "you have a chance." But he continued, "Can I kiss you?" He was looking at my lips, which he seemed to hunger for every time we were close. His hands had trapped me at the center of the table, his gaze locked on my lips, and I could see his eyes dilated with tears, attempting to escape. He was confident; I didn't nod nor respond, but my body responded; my breath became heavier as he approached, and in a deep voice he said, "I just need your consent; your lips are breathtaking." "Can I lock mine with yours?" Just a kiss, love. Just a taste. "Just lips, nothing else, nothing." His voice near me felt like music; it was now rough, deep, and anxious. His right hand began to slide up from the table and cap my cheeks. He then looked at me and kissed my cheek, saying, "You have soft cheeks." And again, his eyes were lost on my lips, with his thumb starting to caress my lower lip. His face was close to mine, and I could feel his breathing; he was inebriated. Sober him would never do such a thing. He then crashed his lips into mine, which stuttered me at first; his lips were warm and soft. The kiss was raw, and I could feel emotions surge from our bodies. We both were heavily breathing, and my legs had parted, allowing him to enclose the space in the middle. I had changed to a tiny booty short, which left little to the imagination. His right hand tried to slide up my stomach, slowly and slightly catching my left boob, which he stopped as fast as he had started. A confused, scared, and unaware face looked at me. He looked at me again, creating some distance between us. With the lights on, the bulge in his sweat pants could be seen. In which, after seeing my eye's direction, he looked at it directly and tried to assume it by just looking at me. His gaze was drawn to my upper body, particularly the area he had tried to touch earlier, and he started in a deep voice, "I... I can't control myself." I've messed myself up. "I'm burning; do you have some sweats or shorts I can wear?" He seemed to be in so much pain, but he acted as if nothing was hurting. I looked for some bigger sweats that belonged to Jake. He had left them there at some point when I used to host him so much. After lending him, he did not seize to imagine I was standing near him he just dropped off his pants and requested for some tissue and headed to the bathroom. After refreshing, he returned wearing the sweats, but the bulge was visible, and I wondered why it takes longer than expected to calm it down. Maybe he really felt a lot for me. I assumed. "I should head home. Angel, I... let's meet after class and the lecture tomorrow. I'll call you in the morning. I won't be a jack again." He did not carry his pants but just left. As I laid my head down, I replayed the incident again and wished he had kissed me then, on that drunken day. He's trying his best to keep his hands off me, but he knows he can't control himself.

The loud ringing and vibration from my phone startled me from my sleep. My drama practice was in the evening, and Jake rarely called; he was used to texting me unless something urgent came up. I took the phone and answered with my rough, sleepy tone, "Yes." "Hey, did I wake you up?" Oh dear, it was Leniey's voice. How could I have forgotten he was going to call me? "Hello, as well. Good morning. How was your night?" I replied as fast as possible, sitting upright to clear my rough voice. "I missed you." He stated. That was the main thing with him—he would say something intimate or make a confession and then remain silent. It seems he was scared and shy at the same time. But yesterday, he was confident. He was confident that we would have spent the night together, but he really did have self-control. After some pin drop silence, he continued, "I'd like to meet you after class if you don't mind." After accepting the invitation, I ended the call and went back to sleep. The class was at eleven, so I had about three hours for preparation and to take my breakfast.

"Psychology classes make me wonder sometimes..." Eric states. The class was over, and we were heading out. Leniey had obviously invited me for some talk, and obviously, the events of the previous day were still fresh and intact in our brains. The mood was there, and some anxious feelings would be felt when we looked at each other. Eric left us alone and headed home. We were currently standing at the school canteen looking at each other and wondering who should start the conversation when Leniey requested the canteen shopkeeper to give me two lollipops, and Leniey bought himself some tropical mints. We then left with him leading. It was a long walk. He was asking me questions like, 'Have you ever walked around school?' 'What do you think about hikes?' 'What is the best thing about drama?' "I have never...." I answered quietly and very cautiously and carefully to every question. I was still not free with him. I was afraid he'd judge me and leave me, or that he'd see my flaws and correct his feelings. We arrived in a neighborhood known as "preying punk." Preying punk was an area that some brilliant humans set aside for people to admire. There were all sorts of things to admire, from ancient huts to stone-curved humans. It was an exciting place to visit, especially in the evenings and at night while gazing at the stars. I knew the place but had never visited it. University students were used to smoking weed at the huts to some extent; someone far away would think that the area was burning from the smoke that would be observed leaving the specific place. Leniey helped me sit at a certain hut and left, I guess, to pay the entrance fee. At a distance, I saw him carrying some wine, and behind him was a waiter with food for both of us. Leniey was quite the gentleman. Where did he get so much money, and yet he was a colleague with whom I never heard of his indulgence in any work except once when he used to take photo shoots in studios. He thanked the waiter and smiled at me after placing everything on the center of the wooden table in the center. "For lunch, baby girl." He talked while sitting down next to me. He wasn't as nervous with me today. He actually seemed to speak a lot. He told me about his family, his connection to the United States, and the reason behind his coming back to learn here. He talked about the first time he had tried to love someone. "I was about sixteen years old. I had a crush on a girl from our neighboring school, and the funny thing was that I used to hide in a corner and wait for her to come home from school. Their family was quite rich, and I knew I didn't have enough money to take her out, so I went to the city library and requested the librarian offer me a job. The pay was quite small, but it would do for an evening with the girl. The funny thing is that when I had enough courage to approach the lady, I realized she was dating the rugby head captain. You know, the strong, masculine men with big bodies. In comparison to me, I would be beaten so badly trying to steal a girl from that guy. He was some sort of bully. That was the first time I was hurt by rejection. I was really hurt, but I blamed myself because I did not have the courage to approach her despite knowing I wasn't the only one who had eyes for her. Since then, I have always been a scared idiot. (Laughing lightly) My past relationship—I can't say much. We were just not meant to be. She was a little insecure; she felt I was cheating on her. Either way, we have seen love through different lenses. I can't say I've been really heartbroken because, honestly, I've never been that serious with someone. I think the only time I was really broken was with that girl I didn't even have the chance to introduce myself to. The only other person I've ever had strong feelings for is a certain girl. She's just perfect. You know how you look at someone and want to talk to them? Like, do you see me? That's why I think she's pretty. Do you think you know the girl?" His question kind of makes me chock a little from the food. I felt like I knew that girl, so I just answered, "Hailey, the queen bee. She's always running towards you." After hearing those words, his face suddenly changed. "What the fuck? I don't love that girl; she's a good one, but no way. We are just close. We don't even speak much; I don't even have her number, trust me. You are the only girl in our class with whom I have a lot of conversations. Honestly, you are the girl I was talking about, goddamn. I was afraid you'd snob me at first. I always saw you in the basketball stands watching us play. I was hoping to approach you one time, but the day I had decided to approach, you never came. I waited for you for days, but you never came either. After classes, you seemed to be in a hurry, as if running away from something. Let me confess right now so that it does not come to the point that I will end up regretting why I did not say certain words..." Honestly, at that point, I knew Leniey was confessing some feelings. I knew these so well that every word brought up a million emotions, but I didn't know how to respond. How do you react when someone tells you they've always adored you? Or they've always liked you and were looking for an opportunity to have a word with you? Do you simply say, "Thank you"? Forgetting that you've always had the same feelings, you simply acted on them better than they did. Since my time in memorial, one of my greatest weaknesses has been someone confessing something personal to me. It's as if some trigger in me wishes for him or her to crack a joke. Feelings are never my thing. "I really like you so much." Leniey was staring right at me when he uttered those words. He held both of my hands and continued, "I want to know more about you." Honestly, I was confused between what to say and how to react. The place was perfect for confession. The air was quite refreshing, and the wind was slightly cold, embracing the breeze of the area. I stated, "I appreciate your confession." Let's just not hurry anything." He just smiled a bit and nodded, saying, "No hurry, baby girl. I'm not in a hurry with you." We spoke at length about life, love, and relationships. I realized how much he loved his mom and little sister. how much he adored the works of his father and how much he wanted to be just like him. I realized he had an awesome voice after showing me some of his clips singing while playing the guitar back in high school. The night had already knocked, and we started watching some stars together before I left. That day, we did not drink anything. He genuinely walked me home, hugged me goodnight, and left me with two kisses, one on my cheek and the other on my forehead. The distance between us grew smaller as days passed by. Our bond became stronger to the extent that I started pulling away from Jake. We went out more often than usual, from horseback riding to merry-go-rounds. We went for hikes, took pictures, and posted some on our specific Instagram accounts. Even though I was afraid of love at one point, I knew I had fallen in love. The hours flew by with Leniey, and our phone calls seemed never-ending. I hated seeing him talk to another girl. Jealousy thickened my feelings for him. We had already acted for the school, and exams had already commenced. Despite exams and reading, we still found time to talk to each other and share some drinks together. He had not yet made it official, but I wished to question him on who we were. We had so many moments from the kissing scene that day. But he was too afraid to touch me. So today we have a psychology paper at 2, and then after I wanted to ask him what we were. I did not want to raise my expectations and get hurt later on, nor did I want him to beat around the bush by playing with my emotions. After finishing the paper, I approached Leniey, who was on his way to the canteen after finishing ahead of me. "Hey!" I said. "Hey, too," he answered, "we need to talk." He just looked at me and sighed. "What do you mean? Did I do anything wrong?" I just shook my head and directed him to the seats under the shade near some baboo-built hall near the canteen, and I started, "Leniey, we have been together for quite a while. We've been going out. Despite having sleepovers and playing like kids, I know we haven't indulged in something intimate despite all that, but I really want us to clear the air between us. What are we?" I knew men hated this type of question. It somehow felt like a trap to them, I presume. Jake had always warned me about men: "Don't accept a man who doesn't give you a title," he always taught. Jake was a good friend and teacher to me regarding men's acts and thinking. He always considered me to be his sibling in some way. Leniey started, "You told me not to hasten things. So why are you saying this? What do you want us to be?" Was he evading the subject? Why is he returning the question to me? I asked him first. So I stated, "Leniey, c'mon, the question is yours to answer." He just smiled and nodded. "It's okay; I don't have a good answer right now. I'll text you later; I have some basketball matches. Ciao." He then stood and kissed my left cheek. Despite, Something was off with him. What did he, he had never left a conversation hanging before, what's his take? Many questions rang through my head as I just watched him leave. Afterwards I decided to also leave, however, I went straight to Jake's. I knew I'd done him wrong; I'd left him on read in so many texts that he'd stopped texting me, waiting for me to at least text him.