Chapter 20: eighteen

The sounds of the lockers slamming were grating on his nerves.

Slam.

Slam!

SLAM!

Emre took a deep breath, leaning his forehead against the cool metal. He hadn't seen Kiara since that Saturday and it was Thursday today. His fisted hand rested against the cool metal, in a white knuckled clench. He wanted to call her, to hear her voice, at the very least to text her to ask why she's been absent from school but he couldn't. She had wanted them to go back to how they were before. Before everything changed between them.

He wished it was as easy as saying it and for it to happen with a blink of an eye. But it couldn't. Every moment he had spent with her, it was kept closed to his heart in a box that sprang open in the dead of the night. He could see her face lighted up as she soaked up the experience of being in Times Square. He could see her pursing her lip as she typed their paper for class. He could feel her excitement, the palpable electricity that coursed through her when he'd confess to liking one of her Bollywood movies.

And worst of all he could still feel the ghost of her breath against his lip. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful or mourn the fact that they didn't kiss that day. If they had, it would have been their first and last kiss, which would have felt like both a blessing and a curse. He swallowed, his clenched fist lightly tapping against the metal.

He pulled out his phone again, scrolling through the notifications only looking for her name but there was none. Tapping on the WhatsApp icon, he found their conversation and paused, roughly clicking his phone shut and shoving his phone back into his pocket. The only thing that scared him more than a curt answer from her was not hearing anything at all.

He saw Mila walking up the stairs from he stood and rushed up to her, "Mila...hey Mila...wait up"

"What skaterboy?" she sneered, pausing. Her face displaying nothing but hate for him, which made him blink in confusion.

"Have you heard from Kiara?" he forged on, ignoring her hateful look. "Why isn't she in school?"

"Why do you care?" she asked haughtily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he took a step back, his hand on his chest. The thing in his chest that leapt as soon as Kiara's was mentioned would beg to differ.

"After the mess that you created, why do you care about Kiara?" Mila seethed.

"I didn't create any mess. In fact, I am walking away because she asked me to..." Emre tried to explain his innocence.

"How convenient, right? Walk away after her life was shat on," she continued brashly.

"She asked me to!" he pleaded; his eyebrows twisted in a frown struggling to maintain his composure.

"Did she ask for you to get close to her? To almost kiss her? To get caught by her mother?" Mila said, her voice controlled but there was no denying her anger.

"She told you all that?" he asked in a small voice, unable to look into Mila's angry eyes.

"Of course, she did" Mila said, her voice restrained as she registered the looks they were getting from the other students walking by. But he could feel it; her need to scream at him.

"I...I just...I..."

"I..I...what Emre?"

"I love her" he said in a low whisper, head hanging dejectedly.

"So? Just because you love her, you had the right to fuck up her life?"

"I didn't think okay. I just thought we were two regular people...who could make things work..."

"It would have never worked. She never was 'regular'. She left for Paris last night."

"What do you mean? Like on a holiday? It's term time, why is she taking a holiday now?"

"My God, you are so fucking dense. She left, to start her studies in music school. In Paris. She's done with high school."

"But, but her SATs? The...the final for History..."

"She doesn't have to take it, but I think she's doing her SATs in Paris. They left last night to sort out her housing and her admission. The History final is with me....here...." Mila roughly shoved a wad of paper to Emre that she plucked out of her bag, which he clutched to his chest.

"But I...I...I don't understand," he looked at Mila, blinking rapidly trying to understand her words.

"She. Left. For. Paris. Last. Night. Without me."

"Is she...I mean...are they...her and Ahad, still engaged?"

Mila scoffed, running her hand through her hair. "Yes! Yes okay. The formal engagement will be in December, and the wedding will be after Kiara finishes with her studies in Paris."

"It's...It's because he's rich, isn't it? And I am not?"

"Like, if you think I'm going to lie to not hurt your feelings, I'm not. Yeah, it's because he's rich. He's a family friend. And he is also a part of their community, their culture."

"Did you...did you see her? Before she left?" he swallowed the bitterness of Mila's words in his mouth.

"Yeah, she was a mess," Emre saw a flash of sadness in Mila's face before it hardened into anger all over again.

Mila didn't say the exact words to him, but he knew what she was thinking. That whatever happened, Kiara leaving mid term for Paris – it all wouldn't have happened if he didn't get closer to her. If he'd listen to people like Max who had warn him off from the very moment they were supposed to work together. It was all his fault; he hung his head defeated by his thoughts.

"Look, I'm going to tell her what I told you. You two are kids. You have different dreams and goals. How long would it have lasted anyways? Better to face the reality now than having to do it after wasting years of your life," Mila walked off, unapologetic in her harsh words of reality.

He heard the first bell ring and the scuffle of shoes against the floor as students rushed into their first classes of the day. When the noise settled into an echoing silence, he sank on the stairs hands on his knees. He pulled out his phone again from the back pocket of his baggy jeans and started checking his social media.

Instagram: @pianochickiara – this account is private.

TikTok: @pianochickiara – this account is private.

Twitter: @pianochickiara – this account is private.

Emre left his palms hanging on his knees as he looked at the ceiling. Kiara had very effectively and very cleanly severed any and all the connections he's had with her. He was absolutely certain that her phone number would be different by now; no matter what he said to her, there would now never be a reply.

"How you feeling, man?" he felt Axel thump his shoulders as he walked around Emre. They were getting ready for another gig, well the rest were getting ready, Emre sat backstage on one of the boxes stacked with his phone in his hand.

He shrugged, knowing Axel was expecting an answer but he had none to give. "How's Raine?"

"Pretty much heartbroken," Axel sighed roughly, sitting next to Emre on the box. He glanced sideways at Emre, "Heard anything from Kiara?"

Emre knew there was a pinched expression at the mention of Kiara's name on his face because he caught Axel's not too subtle flinch. He shook his head. He ground his teeth as he thought about how she had neatly cut herself out of his life. He wanted to say he was fine, that life was moving on. That he wasn't thinking of her as much anymore. That his heart didn't stutter every time his phone chimed with a new message hoping it was her. But he knew it was all lies. His phone would beg to differ; her photo pulled up on the screen as he studied it before Axel walked up.

He hated the fact that he didn't get to say proper good bye. There were still things he wanted to say to her. There were still things he wanted to hear from her. It all now settled in his chest like a damn weight that he couldn't shake off. He lowered his eyes to the darkened screen of his phone, he should probably delete her photos, he thought carelessly. That's what one does right, when they break up? Or sort of break up?

He felt Axel look up, the sound of female voices conversing coming closer and closer. "And this is Emre, the one you were looking for," he heard Raine's voice say. His head snapped up as he took in two women in front of him.

Raine had her long blonde hair scrapped back in a neat ponytail. Even though she had put on some makeup, there was a dullness in her eyes and the tilt of her lips. She was clad in all black; her plain t-shirt, tight jeans, and Nikes on her feet looked like an armour to keep away unwanted attention tonight. Emre was almost sure he mirrored how she looked, feeling like a piece of them were missing. He nodded briefly at Raine in acknowledgement before looking at the other woman.

She was an elderly Chinese woman – her jade bangle gave her away, whilst her hair styled in a sleek chignon, wearing a floral pant suit with a white silk blouse and killer bright pink stilettos. She had a gracious smile of her face as she looked at Emre, she seemed absolutely out of place at the backstage of a bar. Emre hopped down from the box and looked between both Raine and the other woman expectantly.

"Hello," she said extending her hand forward, Emre clasping it in a firm and short handshake, "I'm Mrs. Mui, we have a person in common; Kiara Moussa?" He could hear the lilt in her voice, sounding musical in a way that told him she had spent a lot of her years singing. But even with that melodious voice, it didn't lessen the sharp stab in his heart when he heard Kiara's name. Swallowing roughly, he nodded.

"Emre Ersoy," he introduced himself. "I don't know if you know this...but ah...Kiara has left for Paris," the words still sounded, tasted, and felt bitter in his mouth.

"Oh, I am aware of that. We are neighbours, we often chat while I garden. That place where you dropped her off the last time," Mrs. Mui said, a mischievous glint in her eyes and Emre could feel the heat rise on his cheeks as he remembered the kiss he left on Kiara's cheek that morning.

"She had asked for my assistance in making sure you received this," Mrs. Mui pointed to the box that was leaning on the back wall. It was an inconspicuous brown rectangle box. No prints or labels on it to give a hint. He frowned shaking his head, feeling confused.

"I...I don't understand...," he said roughly, his hand running through his hair.

"Come on, Kiara wanted you to have this...Go and have a look...," she said gently.

With a shaky breath, Emre walked to the box. With gentle fingers, he laid it flat on the floor while he sat down in front of it. His fingers caught on the taped sides, unable to open it. Axel silently handed him the wire cutters that they used for their string and with the sharp bit he slit the tape open. His breath caught when he saw a brown casing nestled in foam, the gold calligraphed 'Gibson' winking under the dim lights.

He clasped his hand over his mouth, effectively silencing the gasped that had escaped his lips. He fisted his hand against his lips and dropped the wire cutter with a clatter. He shook his head, and said to no one in particular, "I can't accept it."

"Well, at least open it to see what it is exactly you can't accept," he heard Mrs. Mui say coolly.

"Hey, for all you know, she might have sent you an empty box," Axel said trying to lighten the mood with a pat on his back.

"Open it, Emre," Raine said from the corner, excitement evident in her voice too.

Gently, Emre picked up the hard case and placed it on his lap. With gentle caresses how one would touch a lover, his hands roamed the plains of the hardcase. The sharp snaps of the buckle made him inhale harshly. And when he finally did open up the case, he could feel the breath lodge in his throat. He couldn't push and pull it as his eyes were riveted on the shiny glittering guitar. The body was a shimmery turquoise blue with a white pick guard, while the neck was an almost black midnight blue. It was the same colour palette on the evil eye that he had gifted her for her birthday.

"Holy shit dude!" he heard Axel gasp from behind him. "You absolutely need to use this tonight!"

"This...this is a Gibson SG...I...I...It costs a lot....," he said in a daze, his fingers tracing the body of the guitar. "I can't accept it," he looked at Mrs. Mui, "I really can't."

"Well, you have to," Mrs. Mui said nonchalantly. "I am not dragging it back all the way home."

"I...I didn't ever for a second expect anything from her...," he said lowly, his eyes on the guitar in his lap. "I...I just..."

"She knows..." Mrs. Mui said softly, patting Emre's shoulder in a comforting manner. "She knows."

Emre bowed his head low, as he pressed his face into his elbow. Doing his very best to lock up the dejection that threatened to flood his being. Lifting his head up slowly, he cleared his throat, "Please stay. At least you can tell her how I sounded..."

Mrs. Mui nodded, "Of course dear, my son is a big fan of this rock music so he'll be happy to stay," she waved a manicured hand around daintily. "Plus he owes both Raine and I drinks," She smiled gently at Emre and nodded her head before walking out to the bar with Raine trailing behind her.

"Alright," Axel clapped his hands, as he looked around. "We'll do a quick sound check with Emre's new guitar before we play tonight," he nodded looking at Russell and Malcolm.

"We're on in 5. Come on Emre," Russell called as they walked out on stage.

Emre pulled looked at at his phone and tapped on the the green icon. He still kept her phone number and even though he knew by now she would not answer him, he started typing a message:

"For whatever it's worth, thank you. It was...it was an experience, to be able to just for a few seconds pretend that you loved me as much I love you..."

Clicking send, the sound of the click was drowned by the sound of his noisy exhale. Standing up, Emre followed his bandmates to the stage - his heart full and the shimmery new guitar in his hands.