FEELINGS MAKE ME WEAK YET MAKE ME STRONGER

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Track of the day: To Whom It May Concern - The Civil Wars

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A/N: Some profanity in the some dialogues ahead.

Wendy has loved before. Once.

She was her senior. In a different class from hers. They met when Wendy had just entered into the university and this senior was working as a helper for new students.

Wendy still remembers it clearly. She hates how she still remembers it so clearly.

The smile greeted Wendy first. Then came the words afterwards. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” Wendy greeted back.

“Don’t be so nervous! You’ll be fine. Come, come. Follow me.” She grabbed Wendy’s wrist and dragged her along the university hallways, going out into campus and into another building. “My name is Skye. You know like, the thing that is above all of us, with the clouds and all.”

“I’m Wendy,” Wendy said, though she only did it to be polite. She didn’t really want to get involved. Not her day to be socialising. She hated that she was here, doing a course she didn’t want to do, in a place so far from home, from all of her old friends.

But this Skye was persistent. A talker. Talk and talk and talk. That was all she did.

“So Wendy like that fast food joint? Can I have some burgers and fries, please?”

Was that meant to be a joke? Wendy raised her eyebrows.

“Ah, no sense of humour in thy bones, eh? Sorry, sorry. As you can see, I don’t know my boundaries.”

Wendy smiled at that and Skye gave her that ‘Gotcha’ look, with fingers pointing at her, and mouth smiling wide open.

“So you are human after all! It’s nice to know.”

It was probably then that Wendy thought that maybe this wasn’t going to be a bad experience after all. Skye, who was doing performing arts as her major, became her friend and companion. Messaging her all the time, asking her where she was going to have lunch and if she wanted to have lunch with them, with Skye and her friend.

Wendy didn’t really think much of Skye’s friend. She was another handful. Most weekends, she would be drunk. Other times, she would sit by the grass on one of the fields in campus with Skye and Wendy, practicing a script she needed to learn for her next class. Despite Wendy being in a different course, she didn’t feel left out. Rather, she felt at ease there. As if she was doing the same thing as them, being in the same year as them.

“So…” Skye announced, “Important question for Wendy’s…”

Wendy’s. Fast food joint. Skye never really dropped the joke since then, even if a few months had gone by.

Skye waited for everyone’s attention before carrying on. “Why law?” She held out her Coke bottle as if it was a microphone.

Wendy cleared .

“Brace for it,” Skye said. “Brace for it, Tiffany!” Tiffany was Skye’s best friend. Sort of. A bad influence, really, for Skye, Wendy thought.

“Two words,” Wendy spoke. “Asian parents.”

“Hah!” Skye burst out laughing. “Asian parents, she says! Tiffany, you’re Asian yet you’re not doing law.”

“I’m sure it’s because of different circumstances,” Tiffany says.

Wendy had always thought that Tiffany was nice. Too nice for how she really was. The resident party-goer of the group. The person that hated spending her weekends at home. She always got Skye involved, to which Skye would invite Wendy because Skye proclaimed that she didn’t want to take care of a drunk Tiffany on her own. But Wendy had always gotten this strange feeling. This feeling that something bad was going to happen if they didn’t stop spending their evenings getting wasted every time.

As the first semester went on, Wendy found herself falling for Skye. Skye who was like a bursting star of energy. Wendy had always taken her akin to a firecracker. Risky but fun.

And it was. Skye, who had reciprocated feelings for her, made her realise that maybe she should drop out and focus on what she really wanted to do in her life.

“ parents, eh?” she said, with a warm smile that coated the edges of her lips. “It’s your life. You should do what makes you happy.”

Wendy smiled back. “You make me happy right now.”

“Eurgh! So cheesy! I cringe, cringe! I give up. Why am I even dating you?” Then she laughed. A firework brightening up the dark, night sky.

Wendy has loved before. Once.

A love that ended too soon, as quickly as it has started.

Wendy should’ve known then. She had a gut feeling and she was aware of it. She shouldn’t have ignored that gut feeling.

Skye didn’t want to go out. She had exams in a few days’ time. She wanted to stay at home.

But Tiffany insisted. At this point, Wendy had grown accustomed to going out too much to a point where she herself found joy in it. She had liked getting drunk and having fun and getting wasted. It was the only time she felt carefree, her problems nothing more but like froths on the top of a pint. One swig and they were gone.

“Come on,” Wendy said. “ exams.”

Skye laughed. “That’s not how you use that term, young lady.”

“Please, please, please, Skye. We’ll get you back home before midnight,” Tiffany pleaded.

But of course, they didn’t.

She never came home. She never made it back home.

Like a firework up in the sky, being as temporal as they are, once lit, it goes after a bang, and then disappears. She was gone, Wendy realised a day later, when she herself woke up from her concussion, one of the minor injuries out of the many major ones she had sustained. Skye’s light had slowly dissipated, disappearing into the night air. The line goes flat, the firework no longer up there in the sky.

And it was Wendy’s fault.

It was Wendy’s fault for not trusting her instincts, her gut feeling. For insisting to go out. For drinking too much. For not being able to drive and take Skye home safely.

It was all her fault.

And it’s there. The guilt brooding, gnawing the bones deep within her knee. The doctor said it’s psychological. Funny. There was no tumour there, no infection, no broken bones. Just pain brought about by a guilty conscience. For lighting up the firework and letting it burn away in the night sky. Because once a firework has been set off, it’s gone.

Stupid temporal things.

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“You press this after you scan the item and then this…” Wendy trails on, to which Irene nods along as she listened. “You put the amount in the card reader if they’re paying by card or you put the amount they have paid on the computer then press enter. Then, voila,” the cash register opens itself as if on cue, “it opens. Fascinating, right?”

Irene gives a sarcastic look in reply.

Wendy laughs a little. “Did you get all of that?”

“I… guess?”

“If you’re unsure, just ask me. I’ll be here with you until your shift ends. We finish at the same time anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Wendy starts sorting out the computer, pressing buttons here and there, trying to take it out of demo mode.

Admittedly, Irene is surprised to find herself here. She hasn’t expected much but she hasn’t thought of this possibility either.

Wendy works at the mini mart down the hill from the university campus. Now, Irene works here as well.

She is surprised to be standing here, behind the counter, trying to work out how the scanner and the computer works. Maybe because Wendy doesn’t seem to be the type to work here. Irene thinks Wendy’s other part-time job will involve dark alleyways or gruff-looking burly men as bosses. Nothing as ordinary as this because, well, Wendy hasn’t really been that ordinary to Irene.

“Something on my face?” Wendy asks. Has Irene been staring too long?

“N-Nothing.”

To that Wendy smiles. Irene finds herself smiling too.

“Two out of three,” Irene points out, quite proudly.

“Hm?”

“First one is at the skating rink. Second one is here. Third one is still a mystery.”

Wendy tilts her head and looks intently at Irene. “Are you keeping track of my occupation?”

Irene finds herself blushing. Does she seem too forward? Too creepy? Too stalker-ish? “I-I’m just—I was just curious. I heard you worked three jobs.”

Wendy doesn’t reply. Instead she goes to the stockroom and shies away, concealing herself so she doesn’t give too much away of herself.

“I wasn’t even interested,” Irene murmurs. But she is. She’s always interested when it comes to Wendy.

Wendy comes back a beat later and starts re-stocking the shelves. She tears open a box of goods and reaches for the top shelf, standing on her toes. It is then that Irene notices two things. The first thing: Wendy is quite short. The second thing: Wendy has a nice figure. For someone quite skinny, she’s well rounded in the right places.

Irene blinks. What is she thinking of right now? She rushes over and helps Wendy.

“Thank you,” says Irene, after a few or so minutes.

Wendy heaves a sigh of relief and then lets out a small laugh. “I should be thanking you instead. I’ve been cursed with short legs.”

“Mine isn’t that long either.” Irene extends her leg as evidence.

Wendy stands next to Irene, measures her height and pouts in thought. “About an inch longer than mine. Sort of.” Then there she goes, flashing that rare innocent smile of hers that Irene can’t help but think of as pretty.

“I’ll go and take a quick smoke at the back,” Wendy says. “You’re going to be fine on your own, right?”

No. Of course not, Irene thinks. Maybe? Depends on who comes in. Maybe. “I’ll be fine. Go on.”

“Five minutes.”

“Okay.”

Irene watches as Wendy disappears to the back of the store, through the doors that make a small squeak as it pushes open. She heads back to the till and puts her hands in her pocket as she waits for a customer to come in. The night is young but there’s not much customers coming around. Makes it a sort of an easy job. Stand around, do nothing most of the time.

Five minutes later and Wendy reappears. The familiar smell of cigarettes has become a sort of trademark. Like Wendy’s own sign, her own signature. She stands next to Irene and leans against the till counter, somewhat observing her, staying frozen in that position for what seems like a good solid few minutes.

“Something on my face?” Irene echoes.

“Bowling.”

Irene knits her brows in confusion. “Pardon?”

“The third job. Nothing special. At the bowling alley in town. Heard of it?”

Irene nods uncertainly.

“Right in the middle of town.”

More uncertain nodding.

“You need to get out more. We can go one day. I’ll take you. Ever been bowling?”

Irene shakes her head. “I’ve never bowled before in my entire life.”

Wendy laughs. “What do you do?”

“I read at home. Do my work. I’m quite busy, you know.”

Wendy clicks her tongue in disapproval. “Not good enough of a reason. You’re like a hermit in a cave. After our shift, let’s go.”

“A hermit?!”

Wendy laughs. “What? If it makes you feel any better, a very pretty hermit.”

Irene feels her face redden. There’s typical Wendy again. Saying playful words so nonchalantly, so carelessly, unaware of the effect it does on Irene. “I-I’m… I have something to do.”

“Oh.”

And if Wendy hasn’t shown that defeated expression, that disappointment so evident in her face, Irene wouldn’t have probably agreed to go. Unfair, really. It’s become Irene’s weakness: Wendy’s unhappy expressions.

“But let’s go anyway.”

Wendy beams and Irene finds herself weakening even more.

 * * *

It’s always been said that feelings are something that can’t be helped. Something that can’t be controlled.

Wendy knows it first-hand. She knows it all too well. Past experiences make you smarter, more cautious. That’s why she’s cautious now. With Irene. Someone who has captured her eyes with that innocence and the slight timidness she carries with her and it is as if, Wendy feels, that spending time with Irene will make her forget about the pain, the horrible memories, the past that cripples her to become happy, as if that innocence will spread to Wendy and wash away all the guilt within her.

That is what Wendy thought at first. Playing around in the white snow can perhaps numb her from the pain.

But the more she hangs out with Irene, the more she sees her, the more she realises what a wonder she is. The more she realises that within her, feelings that cannot be helped are starting to grow.

When was the last time Wendy had felt sincerity in a person? When was the last time she had felt cared for? Because she wasn’t worthy of it. Not of kindness or of happiness. So she avoids those things. She avoids feeling.

But feelings are something that cannot be helped. Something that cannot be controlled.

“You position your hands like this,” Wendy demonstrates, feeling the warmth of Irene against her own body, her own hands mingling with Irene’s. “Then you throw the ball with enough force and speed, like so.”

They both send the ball away and watch it go head straight, fast and strong, clashing against the pins and knocking most of it down.

“Not bad for a first try,” Wendy says, aware that her ears have probably gone red and probably quite noticeable since her hair is tied up in a ponytail and all. She parts herself from Irene and steps back, beaming a smile at Irene’s effort in trying.

“I’m a quick-learner. Next thing you know, I’ll be better than you.”

“That’s… good to hear.” Wendy feels a pain. A throbbing pain on her knee. A reminder, a warning, telling her she can’t be happy. That she can’t cross that line.

“You… okay?” Irene asks, stepping closer. She reaches a hand out and feels Wendy’s forehead. “You’re sweating.”

“Yeah,” Wendy breathes out. “I just need to sit down. It’s quite hot in here, right?”

Irene tilts her head and raises a brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me.” Wendy takes a seat and massages her knee. She needs a cigarette. It’ll take away the pain.

Irene sits next to Wendy. “How can I not worry? Are you in…” Irene hesitates. She’s not sure if she should impose. Will Wendy push her away again? But she swallows the fear and carries on. “…pain? Is something wrong with your knee?”

Wendy sees the look in Irene’s eyes. The frowning brows, the worried look etched on her face and Wendy wonders why. Why does Irene care? “Why do you care?” she asks out loud.

“What do you mean why? Because… because…” Irene looks for the right words. Even after finding what it was, she still finds it hard to speak it out loud. It stumbles in but she manages. “…aren’t we friends?”

Wendy smiles sombrely. She’s not worthy of it, she thinks. It repeats in her mind as she tries and soothe the pain. The cigarette will help—

Then Irene holds her hand, reassurance in those soft, soft hands. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Wendy looks at Irene in surprise, meeting a pair of doe-like eyes that brimmed with such understanding that it has overflowed and touches Wendy. Irene takes out a handkerchief from her pocket and dabs it on Wendy’s forehead. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. Just know that I’m here for you. So from now on, don’t push me away, okay?”

Wendy knows there is something there. In the way Irene’s hand provides the comfort that Wendy needs. She hates it. It’s not right and Wendy regrets approaching Irene from the start. Wendy is too broken, too corrupt, and she knows that. There is smoke that continues to fill her lungs each day and a painful past that is too heavy to be buried.

But Wendy cannot help what she feels. She sees hope—finds hope in herself whenever she looks at Irene. Maybe Wendy can try and move on. Maybe she can. Maybe.

And she doesn’t know why—gut instinct, perhaps—that makes her say words she knows she shouldn’t say, reassurance she shouldn’t give, especially to Irene. Wendy knows herself she’ll hurt Irene yet she continues to talk to her and spend time with her, threading on deep waters against strong waves, she knows she’s not strong enough to handle.

Then Irene’s touch comes along, the comfort in that touch, that makes her forget. A message in an action that says: “We’ll go through this together.” It makes her go through the waves, battle through it until she’s reached the other shore. A shore of a new beginning.

So when it happens again, right now, right there, as Irene holds her hand, the pain in Wendy’s knee slowly subsiding, Wendy says words she knows she shouldn’t have said because damn feelings are something that cannot be helped. Something that cannot be controlled.

“I do like you. I like you as a person. And in that way.”

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A/N: I was torn on what song to put for this chapter but in the end, came to a conclusion that this one fits the emotion I wanted to evoke in here. The heart-rending guitar riff is what I was looking for. A lot of things to talk about in this chapter. First off, the new characters: Skye, is a fictional, completely made up one. If there are any similarities with a real-life person, it's purely, purely, coincidence. Tiffany, that I referred to here is Tiffany of SNSD. Again, all fictional, so don't take her character too seriously. Second thing is that I hope people can understand why Wendy is as so. I tried to show it here, but as I'm not that confident in my skills, I'm not sure if I have managed at all. Last thing is that I apologise for the lack of updates for this fic. I'm quite tight on time nowadays and finding inspiration for this fic is quite difficult unless I dedicate a day on it. Anyways, upvotes or comments are appreciated. It empowers me to continue on this fic.