It all started on the night of November. It started with seeing things online. Inara saw him coming through her, in his words.
Across the red tulip fields and tangerine grove, where she makes raspberry jams and dandelion flower crowns in her backyard garden, Inara found his write-ups flying around her head like the stars of the night, singing into her ears like whispers of lullabies.
It was a time when a local app called "Roof" was popular. It was an app made for all people—not just people with the souls of writers or readers, but one that gave people a soul of weaving words. Inara silently, rather greatly, enjoyed reading other people's lives. It was an app where anyone could write about their day—a day they belonged to or a night they longed for. It made anyone write. She met Kamil there, and like a gentleman, he had already told his audience it wasn't his real name.
He had peacock-like feathery verses, disguised in his hyena-sly motives, and it was already deeply noticed by Inara—there was something peculiar about Kamil's writings that spoke to the reader. He just said how his day was, yet there were people ready to hear him. His writings mostly felt like a cold glaze of little snow in hands shaped like cordiforms, and sometimes he was capable of melting the moon into his write-ups that made his readers think he actually smiled.
He had a very abnormal way of writing—like, on a full moon night, he personified the night even more. He loved the void of darkness. He said the darker the night, the lovelier it was for him. He loved seeing shooting stars and glazed his heart with northern lights that camouflaged into green and purple.
The night encouraged things within him; it made him the real piece of himself, and people actually welcomed Kamil to write more—and he actually did. For Inara, Kamil already felt like a tough guy that could only be melted by a touch of kindness.
He wrote like clouds and stars—very natural and without drama. His words carried clauses of snow and phased with summer, perfectly aligned with red colours and tasted like yoghurt with berry flavours of blue, red, and white.
Inara silently fell for him—for his words. Maybe he wasn't so active in the comment or message sections of his followers. He didn't have many followers or support when Inara met him through the feather-like words written by him on a digital platform, but she knew he might get popular very easily within a short span of blinking time.
She took the step, because she knew it pretty well: if she wanted to know him—and not him to know her—it had to be her who took the starting thread. She opened the app in between her critical semester exams and decided to risk it all for his replies.
At the moment when she texted him personally, she really loved the app—an app that allowed people to text authors personally, just like Instagram, except it allowed messages to be sent back. It was after a week that Kamil—the hidden creature Inara liked—messaged her. She was over the clouds; at last, he noticed her and texted her back saying, "I'm awesome and wbu?"
Inara had expected his words, and when he came slowly like a fallen green leaf, asking about her, Inara's heart clenched a bit more with this strange warmth of hope. She replied the same day—she didn't want to show him any delays. Within a moment, they got into a conversation. However, like a fox, he acted—he closed the conversation whenever they landed on personal grounds.
Inara noticed he was like a fish dodging her close nets, avoiding those specific areas. She gave him his space of solitude and let him fly free there on his own.
Dawn to noon to dusk and night—his thoughts grew in her heart very much like an orange tree: it grew in bunches divine and smelled pleasant, and within a blink—
Inara realized what she had for him was a blue obsession. It was fine as wine—the more she avoided touching it or tried to set it far away, the more divine it tasted.
Inara tossed into her bed, feeling delusional, diplomatic, and detrimental with these thoughts of him. She wrapped her pink silk blankets around herself, giving warmth—wrinkled, forming roses—too many roses by his words on her.
She felt really happy when she read his thoughts. She felt filled. There was a reason—a very straightforward one. He wrote things dearly and gave his soul into it.
Every post of his was a way for her to talk to him, and frequently their conversations shifted. On the other side, Kamil, who was very quiet, felt differently about her. He thought about her—Does she speak to many here? Does she think I speak to many here? But destiny had one reason—they spoke only to each other a lot, and this kind of feeling belonged only to Kamil and Inara.
Kamil completed his graduation, and he never talked about it to all, but he informed Inara. Suddenly, life felt heavy for Kamil. He wanted to forget everything, throw away every human connection, and disappear into the void like he never existed. There was a reason Kamil didn't want to share with anyone—not because it was personal, but because it was so poignant that he never knew what it felt like to be himself.
People had him, but he had no one. And when his heart thought about Inara, he wasn't sure how to place this missing puzzle piece. He decided, of his own will, that Kamil had nothing to do with Inara—he was just a part of her life, and even without him, life would flow flawlessly for her. He assured himself that his pieces didn't fit into Inara's life.
When Kamil thought about his life now, he felt like a jester. He should have spoken to a few more people and made friends there on the app where he wrote—where people liked his write-ups. Giving up felt uneasy but not so tough. Kamil had always been this way—a boy who never cared for others' feelings, because there were no "others" in his life.
Now, just with her thoughts, life feels kind of nostalgic.
He strengthened his heart and made a clear move—to eliminate his remains everywhere in life. In every nook and corner of that world, Kamil began to take a step—cleaning the chaos he caused.
© lune