Glue was good...

Scandalizing people was quite a favorite pastime of his but sometimes, like now, he let go of himself.

He was sitting atop his favorite rock, overlooking the sea. It was late afternoon and there was still a slightly warm touch to the wind that blew in persistent little circles around him. He wasn’t wearing his usual attire. A plain blue jeans and white shirt was all that covered his body, hardly offering any protection against the natural elements. Not that he cared much about that. He wasn’t exactly vulnerable to such things.

But even Arcade wasn’t immune to everything. There was a part of his steady heart that was vulnerable to a lot of pain. But not today… Today it was beating strongly; beating a seldom-indulged little wish.

She is so stupid… he was smiling as he thought about it, about her. He wasn’t even bothered to think what it meant: him thinking about her like this, so peacefully. He didn’t care if he knew it already. Today was one of those rare days when he didn’t mind letting all guard down. There was no one around for him to put up a show anyway.

Oh, if only she knew…what would she say? I am her closest friend. Friends don’t…

Don’t what? Love? That’s not right…

What, now I’m saying I love her??

Arcade laughed softly; an almost quiet chuckle. So what if I do…I’m happy just…being. Being like this, being someone she loves as a friend. It makes me feel so good, inside…he lifted his face to the sun, squinting for a moment and then closing his eyes…it’s like a secret that no one can take from me…talk about me, my clothes, my language, my attitude, anything, everything you think you know…

Talk what you will…

I know what I have to do…and now, I have this feeling with me…so, it’ll be easier…Arcade knew that when the sun set, he would get off the rock and head back home. He knew that he’d sleep and wake up the next morning as if the evening-date with the deep, deep sea never happened. He’d wake up as the Arcade everyone knew him to be.

But it wasn’t something to be sad of. There was no need or place for that. He wasn’t living two lives. He was living one life, one bit a time. And besides, he’d be back again next week. Same time, same place, same thoughts…

Those weekly hours spent in the company of grey rocks, moss, water and his thoughts were like glue holding the rest of his nomadic existence together.

A slow, lazy smile crossed his upturned face. And glue was good…