Pink and Gold

Pink and Gold in the Dark

The sky was a dark veil of black velvet sprinkled with tiny diamonds – sharp, magnifying, illuminating, a perfect fresco for this world. Today, the jet black was a tad more effulgent. Something was different. More stars dotted the night – pink and gold.

My gaze flickered between the stars.

A singular, incandescent dot blazed peculiarly bright. Was this star there before? She couldn’t be sure.

With a sigh, her eyes fluttered back down to the letter upon her desk. She read it, over and over.

Hey, Jack

It's me, Eva. Long time no see! I know it has genuinely been such a long time since we've last talked, but I wanted you to know that I am so grateful for having known you so well before, and that I genuinely appreciate you so much for having always being there for me.

I miss hanging out with you.

Could we pretty please, with a cherry on top and...A Summerklaus Elf eating Connor's sock, be friends and hangout once again?

She smoothed her skirt and tried to take comfort in the melancholic drops of rain that pitted and pattered lightly against her bedroom window.

Jack had been one of her closest friends. He had always been the sweetest guy she’s ever known, with such a big heart and the habit to be so ridiculously loving to all of his friends. It was easy to tell he was a loving person, anyone could tell.

He

No matter who he would talk with, he could always make them laugh with one of his half-conspiratorial jokes and his laughter, so full of mirth, and everyone felt safe around him.

Her heart longed to reach out to him again. She missed having a friend like him in her life. The only problem was that…what if he sees the letter and merely doesn't care?

Her fingers toyed with the corners of the note, the edges creasing softly.

It contrasted to what had just been said, yes – how lovingful she knew him to be – but It had been a horribly long while. She envisioned his face as he unfolded her letter and realized it was from her. His head would tilt ever so slightly as he read her name, his eyes tracing with quiet disbelief over each letter as though he could scarcely trust that it was true. Then, tossing the letter away, not deigning to write back.

A soft, lilting laugh escaped her lips. What a rotten thought. In no world would he dare commit something so unfeeling.

Her eyes fluttered lingeringly to the letter once more before crumpling it. She tossed it to the floor with a flick of her wrist, where countless other letters lay scattered.

A distant ache settled in her heart. She couldn’t help but doubt that he would desire to respond. It was lovely – the time they had been so close. But now? It’s been two years and she hasn’t seen him. It’s no doubt he’s gotten to know a collective of unique, fascinating people — some who are funnier than her, easier to talk to, and far more charismatic.

He probably doesn’t miss her.

She sagged into her seat, her mind gallivanting into utter nostalgia.

Oh, but how deeply she longed to get to know him again. It annoyed her with how impossibly long and unrelenting her thoughts of him would persist. What made it worse was that while she was being chewed away by her endless longing, she was too, far too afraid to send him a letter. Every time she met with the mailer, she would always fall back. Always retreat. Never once did she send any of the various letters she wrote, and she was coming to believe she never would.

Her eyes met with the night’s bedazzling fresco once more. Pushing herself up from her chair, she approached the ornate window, gazing out through the glass. The dark night was suddenly a kiss more enchanting than before. The luminous glows bathed the sky, and she couldn’t help but feel as though the veil’s glamour was adorned by two new stars, gracefully sewn. Her eyes flickered between the two unrecognizably stars. One pink. One gold.

The next day was like an enforced stroll through a colorless forest. Quiet. Dull. Lonely.

Now, she was sitting at her wooden desk once more, scowling at the blank letter as if that was the key to all the right words miraculously inscribing themselves upon the blank scrap.

What was she to write? What should she write…

She slipped her eyes shut and tried to reminisce about anything that may help her. Her mind drifted back to a warm, feverish night that brimmed overflowingly with cherished, bittersweet wistful affection.

It had been a late night, and goodness, how dearly she treasured those. They had been indulging in any normal conversation, with much fun and fluff and candied laughter. What felt so unfortunate to her was the random group of strangers, our age, who came over to join us. She didn’t hate people. She loved people as a matter of fact – as many do – but for the love of God, her anxiety had been sent through the roof. In mere seconds she was crippling with overwhelming anxiety, terrified of how to respond and of how Jack might perceive her, were she to result in such an awkward, stuttering mess.

The moment they left, absolute disaster burst from her lips. She was a catastrophe inside and out, babbling on about how petrifying that agonizing ordeal had been for her. The second she comprehended what words left her mouth, it was as though her world had broken into pieces of shards. Her heart dropped down to the lowest of low – past the ocean’s trenches and into the sinister pits of hell.

She had hoped for him to ignore it. What she feared more than anything was him realizing truly how debilitating her social anxiety was, and then discarding her as a friend because she simply wasn’t…good enough.

Instead…

“I’m worried. This isn’t normal.” I’m worried. Not I’m concerned – I’m worried.

As they continued to stroll leisurely along the beach, their steps began to slow. He glanced down at her, brows furrowed slightly.

“All they did was come to chat and you’re acting like it’s the end of the world.”

That – Felt accusatory. And suddenly, she was plagued by that nauseating, sickening, mind tearing blight. Dread curdled in her stomach. Her insides turned to muck, like a sickening poison spreading, wretching every inch of her being.

“...You good?” He had asked softly, but it was more like a prompt to speak. The corners of his lips curved up into a small, comforting crescent.

I tilted my head up and had forced myself to appear composed. “Phenomenal, actually,” I’d replied, tying my words with dismissive sarcasm.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I can tell.”

He glanced down at me again, an eyebrow lifting slightly.

“You’re doing great. Truly thriving.”

“Truly.”

It took her a few moments to realize how she was running her fingers through the strands of her hair, a sign of the inner-turmoil she was enduring.

Her confidence crumpled under the stillness of his gaze – the way his eyes studied her like he could slowly piece together what she was feeling. And he did.

A low hum escaped his chest. “You can be honest with me, Eva. I’m not gonna think any less of you, I promise.”

His words felt sacred and delicate, like the last word of a siren’s song. Pulling her in, cradling her with such dearly, heart warming care, stripping her mind of any unfavored doubt. Of course she knew it wasn’t rare to find caring friends. What was rare to her, though, was finding friends that made her feel safe enough to fully open up.

As a series of consoling went on. In due time, her face was pink and damp from rivers of sorrow that traced down the curve of her cheeks, glinting faintly under the moonlight.

“It’s so bad, Jack.” She had forced out through her sobs. “I wish I was better at talking with people, and I hate being so scared.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. Never had she ever felt so safe with someone until then. With the kind of guy he was, she was sure he’d met many more people who felt the same way about him, who treasured their friendship with him just as much as she did. She didn’t want to sound envious, or bitter, but that was the root cause of her worry. In no way was she so special, and so she hated to say it, but she really doubted he would miss her in the same way she grew teary-eyed thinking of how much she longed to, again, be with him.

A woeful tear hit the paper, a small, damp circle spreading faintly. All she successfully wrote was, “I miss you,” and that most definitely wouldn’t be enough.

Later, she noticed that another pink star had ignited the night, fathomless and absolutely magical. She leaned against the balcony railing, the cool wood pressing beneath her palms. Her eyes fixed on the vast, glittering tapestry woven in the sky. The stars had an otherworldly glow, faint yet dazzling and absolutely unreal. It shone like waves of gossamer swaying under the moonlight. The stars were all of pink and gold, a peculiar pattern and she couldn’t decipher why.

The next day, too, passed by in a blur. Of course, yet again, she sat at her desk, pondering. The palm of one hand pressed against her cheek, her other hand tapping the pencil against the board of her desk. The past few nights have felt to her much like a slow burn of ice cold mockery. Her heart was bleeding with an unbearable longing that she feared she couldn’t do anything about.

Jack had always been so kind to her, and to everyone else. She remembered how they would text for a severely long time, deep into the dark hours of night. Everyone's conversation with him was filled with such laughter and satisfaction, as she had mentioned before. Never had she ever considered herself a big texter. As a matter of fact, she hated texting. Whenever she was indulging in conversation through texts, she would always eventually come up with some sort of excuse to get her out of it. With Jack, it never mattered where they were talking, what they were talking about, or how, she was always deeply enamored by their conversation.

Perhaps it was the way she felt so safe and secure around him. You know that TikTok audio that goes, Am I weird? Yeah. But so what? Everyone’s weird. That was precisely what their friendship felt like.

He was always so caring and sweet.

Around him, her spirit soared, and her heart flamed with such ridiculously passionate, feverish warmth. It was as though fairies sprinkled a million sparks of mirth into her soul, flooding her with a sickening level of that scrumptious, heart aching delight.

A sudden, familiar, warm and sad heartache rippled through her, and tears began to well in her eyes once more.

He was her top-most appreciated friend in her life, she beloved their friendship and treasured it whole-heartedly like a sacred secret only she should know of. Luminous rivulets streamed down her face, crowning her tragedy. They fell soundlessly, a contrast to the helpless cries of her heart.

He mattered to her so much, and never again would she see him again. Unless…Unless she sent a letter.

She leaned once again against the wooden railing of her balcony. Two new stars wove itself upon the sky.

One pink.

One gold.

She never sent the letter, but she wouldn’t allow herself to do nothing.

The next morning she got dressed and grabbed her purse. Inside, she placed her water bottle, cash, lipstick, blush, her makeup brush, and the letters.

Fear terrorized her. The walk felt like an agonizingly long trudge through a syrupy, murky tide, condensed and unmoving, and, in the midst of the horrors, a golden, welcoming beacon.

Her heart thundered mercilessly against her chest. But she had to do this. She had to go talk to him, otherwise the longing would torment her forever.

She stilled for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself by taking comfort in the positive, potential aftermaths of this heart-straining venture.

Jack…was a kind person. All she desired so badly was to know him once again, and in absolutely no universe would he ever reject something so dire, so fragile by the knowledge of how easily it could be rejected.

In addition to that, even if he didn’t long to be friends so badly like she did, at least he would know that people appreciated him for who he is.

Her heart warmed, hopeful and tender. They could be friends again. He could say yes. Why would he say no? And even they didn’t reconnect as much as she’d hoped…At least it’d give her the confirmation she’d need to move on.

Her anxiety didn’t disperse. Not at all, but she had certainty that she was going to be okay.

The night sky held tenderly to every letter they never sent, adorning the dark in soft hues of pink and gold. For the first time, they would learn truly just how much love silence had stolen from them.