Keeping aside dislike, Ren getting suspended was really inconvenient because he had to hide the blemish from his family and pretend to go to school every day.
Though, Sereia did not like going to school without him so she would skip her classes to keep him company. They would head to outskirts of their town, away from their parents' circle of influence and hangout in the forest all day long. They used to enact scenes from Bridge to Terabithia, slay imaginary monsters, swim in the dirty lake, mud fight, swim again – but to clean up, this time – and cycle back home under the burning afternoon sun.
Come winter, summer, spring or fall, Sereia's childhood was intertwined with Ren's just as much as their families were (or sometimes even more).
She knew no other friend than him and she knew no other person more than him.
To Sereia, the boy she clung to all her childhood was the ideal of a real person, incomparable, and anything without him was automatically incomplete. From growing up together, studying together, vandalising their evil headmaster's car together, to noticing him as man during their family's joint trip to the beach – Sereia considered no other.
Ren, at sixteen, had finally grown taller than her and Sereia realised it when he threw an arm around her shoulders and slotted her against his side.
A rush of warmth seized her being over how perfectly she fit by his side, under his arm, against his body. Her childhood crush resurfaced when she was fourteen and wrestling him on the sand for the last stick of barbeque. She found herself straddling him with her wrists pinned to her back by his hand. She felt the rumbling of his chest as he laughed and munched on the kebab underneath her, all the while she twisted and thrashed in a failed revolt.
Sereia never acted her impulses, even though they followed her like a shadow ever since that day.
Every time he played on the field, Sereia would gulp at the flex of his growing muscles. Every time he'd pass a smile to a girl, Sereia would feel her throat clog on the behest of her feelings. Every time she would hug him when he was upset, Sereia would feel his hard chest against her and pull away in case she'd end up wanting more. Every time she supressed her thoughts and bottled up her feelings in a jar labelled, 'He's my best friend!' it would break apart upon sleeping beside him during weekend nights.
Sereia had no idea why she had herself signed up for the mental and physical weekly torture of Saturday movie nights with him.
She had no idea why he would always keep his Saturdays free for her to die in his arms.
She understood that he did not feel a thing toward her, which was why he did not mind wrapping an arm around her shoulders, sneaking it against her collarbones to steal her chips, distracting her with bickering over the dumbness of the plot by whispering so close to her ears and falling asleep, sometimes, with her top of him.
Though, he was the only one asleep because Sereia would be internally dying over all the butterflies wreaking havoc inside her. His fingers would caress her stomach in his sleep and oftentimes the supressed emotions made her want to puke.
But she would usually encircle her fingers around his bright hair, untangle the knots and make small braids to keep herself distracted.
Sereia Theodore, at fifteen, was irrevocably and unfathomably in love with Warren Vincent, her prom date.
She had no idea that he would ask her to be his date because of how displeasing her company was to others around him. She was genuinely surprised nonetheless.
Though, apparently, she was the only one surprised when Ren zoomed in front of her door in a Lamborghini and shouted through a megaphone, "Ariel, will you let this crab take you to prom?"
Sereia had cringed over that for a whole week straight, considered falling out of love and even denied being his date for a good three days.
But, from her parents to her aunt to Mr. and Mrs. Vincent that was Ren being his usual self.
And maybe it was that Wednesday evening, over the Vincent kitchen counter, that Sereia realised why she was friends with him in the first place.
Warren Sebastian Vincent had a few screws loose and no one but Sereia Ruth Theodore was able to manage with him. Yes, he had hordes of friends, acquaintances and connections but he had yet to cancel on a Saturday with her – ten years in to their relationship.
So, Sereia agreed, realising his prom was also on a Saturday and dressed up as neatly as she could. She did not want to overdress and make it seem like she was trying too hard. She did not want to look extremely different from her usual self and raise more talks around and neither did she want to stand out too much in a party for her seniors.
Sereia ended up wearing a long grey skirt paired with a sequined blazer and chunky shoes, making her taller than the rest but horribly underdressed. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun and accessorized with a single silver cross clip, quite contrary of the theme Floral Rendition but Ren did not seem to mind.
He never minded her clothes or hair, ever since the day they met and the prom day was no different.
Somehow, he still looked at her with a similar glint he had held in his pale eyes when they were children. A decade later, he still guided her hanging hand by the edge of his index finger and held it ever-so-gently to kiss the back of when she held it out.
His hair was shabbier now, his nose was bigger and sharper now, his lips were fuller now and his jaw made a ninety-degree angle before meeting his pierced ears.
Albeit all the new and within all the old, Sereia's heart still thundered for him like the first day they met.
It was prom and Ren spiked the evil headmaster's drink and he danced the night away more than any other graduating student.
It was prom but Ren did not leave her alone in a crowd full of strangers to hang out with his classmates, which Sereia thought was unfair and voiced so – but she was instantly shut up, pulled out of the gym-transformed-into-ballroom and found herself pinned to a hallway wall, caged in between his arms.
"It—this is prom, Seari, how can I leave you alone?" he whispered, his breath warm over her face.
Sereia's heart jumped, gut dropped, sweat dripped and tongue slipped, "It's not like I'm your girlfriend," she laughed, "ha-ha," nervously. Her eyes meandered all over the floor, not meeting his.
So, he hooked a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him.
"You're so much more," he whispered, an odd heaviness grasping his face. "Remember it, you're so much more," he repeated, in a harsher whisper.
Though, Sereia did not have the time or heart to comprehend it for as soon as the words escaped him, his lips crashed on to hers and her heart seared into non-existence. The heat from his body and his citrus scent intermingled with hers, his left hand dropped from the wall and held her by the waist. His thumb moved in a lazy circle underneath her jacket, over her stomach, momentarily ripping her soul apart.
Sereia arched her neck and ran her fingers over his back, riding her adrenaline high as she kissed back – or allowed herself to be kissed, she did not know. It was her first. She was none-the-wiser.
His right hand gently cupped her cheek and held her blushing face as if it were a pristine ornament. Her stomach flipped as his curious tongue invaded her mouth for exploration. All her repressed emotions floated over to the surface and as he pulled back for air, rested his forehead against hers and opened his eyes.
Sereia's knees buckled.
She would have dropped to the floor, in a pool of sweat and embarrassment, if Ren hadn't wedged his thigh in between and given her a seat. Her hands quivered against his back but she retrieved them and asked, "W-w-why?"
Her words wavered, heart preening in a land of love and lust, when Ren gently picked her up, foreheads still touching, and slipped them down to the floor. With his back against the wall and Sereia cradled in his arms, he shook his head, "I couldn't help it," he smiled, "You've been too beautiful," he captured her lips again, breathing in all of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer, "late…ly," he whispered, in between gasps and kisses, "I re-a, lised," he pressed another chaste kiss on her lips, "You're irreplaceable to me."
Fuck Sereia, fuck Sereia's feelings and fuck Sereia's heart and soul.
Scratch it with the nail of love, hammer in words of insatiable affection, pierce a hole and use it as an epicenter to rip her apart. Then, lay her naïve-self bloody and barren over the chapel of isolation and run off, into the oblivion, the very next day like Warren Sebastian Vincent, did.
The day after prom, Sereia Theodore, at fifteen, was irrevocably and unfathomably in hate with Warren Vincent, her first friend, first love, first kiss and first heartbreak.
Whilst she woke up with a smile on her face, contemplating the status of their relationship, he was skipping towns with another woman – replacing her almost instantly.