Write to Love You

My eyes bulged when a comment caught my attention. A very disrespectful and insensitive opinion coming from someone I don't even know. “Are these people really have a heart? Why are they so ruthless to me?” I complained and went near to Arvin, who was now silently sitting on the couch. His eyes are closed, as if he has been in deep thoughts. A few seconds later, Arvin slowly opened his eyes. His glass-like, deep brown eyes immediately greeted me. There I could see calmness through it. Unbothered and seem to care for nothing. I know it's normal and okay for him not to be bothered. I'm not surprised. These people aren't bashing him because he doesn't have the talent to write, but both of his parents are famous and veterans in writing the story. But I am. I am the only target, but he's my best friend, for goodness’ sake. Maybe, my parents didn't and won't open this topic. They surely wouldn't tell me they have disappointments about it, but I'm certain that is what they also feel about me. My parents were well-known for their writing skills. They are well-known writers here all over the country who have published their best-selling books. I'm turning 17 tomorrow, and here I am talentless. I just have a normal mind yet living as a daughter of two talented authors. Then, there are these people whom I don't even know. I don't reckon to remember any bad things I did to them. “Auntie Angelica and Uncle Kenzo are proud of having you. Don't ever doubt their love for you.” “But these people, they don't know or even care how I feel anymore. It's like I also need to write because my parents write.” He stared at me, his eyes fixated on me, as if studying my whole appearance. Then all of a sudden, the corners of his lips started to raise upward, until it formed into a slight smile, and soon turned into a wide grin. He laughed softly while shaking his head. Do I look like I'm joking? “Are you kidding me or what? If you'll just laugh at me, you can go now, Arvin.” “Where's my best friend? Where's Viance?” He laughed as he stood up and acted looking for me, even though I was literally just in front of him. Then he stopped, and suddenly, his face became deadly serious. As our eyes met, I saw a glint of disappointment. It's as if I had given his question an answer. So, I am. I now get that look. His way of looking. I hate to admit it, but he's making sense. Maybe he's right, I am probably missing myself. “My best friend for years, Viance Clayzy Camangyan, isn't like that. All I know is, she doesn't give a damn care about other people's opinions, and she does something the way she wants, not the way other people want her to do it.” I was caught off guard. Those words are firm. So as him. He’s deadly serious, and I could feel the tip of every of his words slipping into every corner of my system. My eyes glued to him as he keeps on stepping closer to me. I couldn’t withdraw my gaze. I don’t know. It’s pulling me closer. “Where’s Viance?” “Tsk, you don't understand, Ar-” “Do you think your parents care? Whether you write or not, you're still their child. They're proud of you. Besides, you can't push yourself if you can't.” I laughed out loud when I heard that, and stepped a little further back. My right palm rested on my forehead and then looked away from Arvin. What is happening to me? He is right. I can't push myself if writing isn't really for me. A deafening silence enveloped us both. Neither of us tried to speak. We were both dumbfounded and lost in deep thoughts. It's like my body has a mind of its own and finds a place to sit on its own. I went to the side of the couch where Arvin was sitting earlier. After a few seconds, I was sitting and Arvin was still standing, his back was facing me. Nothing, he finally spoke. “Are you desperate to show everyone that you can write, too?” What kind of question is that? I kept my mouth shut and did not answer his question. I don't even know what to answer. “Viance, I'm asking you,” he faced me. When he kneeled on his right knee, it was just right for our faces to be equal. “Do you want to write? Do you want to show everyone that you can write?” At first, I seemed dumbfounded, but when I was convinced that there was no joke in his eyes, I slowly nodded. Sure, I want to. I really want. If my parents are proud of me now, I'm sure they will be even more proud of me if I follow in their footsteps. “Okay then, let me be your ghostwriter.” My jaw almost dropped at what he said. What? Ghostwriter? “G-ghostwriter? Is there such a thing? Hey, Arvin! Yes, I often get annoyed with you, but I don't want you to die! I don't think I can handle that!” He shook his head weakly. Without a word, he took both of my hands and gently folded them in his hands. I can sense the chill of his demeanor. He’s nervous. I’m sure, but I can't explain why. I can feel him having second thoughts about what he is doing, as if something is stopping him, as if he wants to release whatever is inside his mind. “Ghostwriter is when you write a story and the credits won't go to you. For example, I will create the story-I will write, but you will give the idea and everyone will also recognize you as the one who wrote it.” I stopped moving for a moment and tried to process what I heard. Soon the blood seemed to boil automatically when I finally understood what he was pointing for. Does he want me to steal his work? I violently removed his grip, and he was about to scream when he briefly explained again. “If you think I want to plagiarize, no. Ghostwriting is not plagiarism. Many people are doing it in other countries to earn money. I assure you, this is not an act of plagiarism.” “But here in the Philippines, nothing. Are you kidding me?” I asked him, annoyed. “Are you even thinking, Arvin?!” He took a deep breath before finally sitting on the wood on the floor of this tree house. I reached out my hand again, bowed slightly, and I just felt his gentle caress in my hands. He hesitated when he spoke again. “I'm offering you my help. You know, I can write like your parents. I can imitate their writing style for you. It's easy for me to learn that,” he explained. Nobody can deny Arvin's talent in anything. He learns things quickly. Smart too. After all, Arvin is already so perfect. I cannot deny his beauty. He is also kind and very considerate. We have been friends for a long time. “But I'm not delirious yet, a-” “Let me finish first.” He suddenly interrupted what I was going to say. “I will write a story and everyone will recognize you as its writer. Of course, I’m not going to do that without something in return.” I automatically felt disappointed by what he said. I stood up violently and got away from Arvin in disgust. “This is nonsense.” “Ghostwriting is not a form of plagiarizing.” Annoyance was clear in his voice, but he immediately calmed himself down. He took a few breaths before speaking again. “I will write the story you want and get something in return. All the ideas are from you, the plots and characters, all of that is from you. All I'm going to do is write it down,” he carefully explained. He took a step closer to me again, one step at a time. Just like then, I felt like the cycle of my world had slowed down because of what he's doing. When I looked at the whole of his face, it seems like it has given me the opportunity to see every corner. Sincerity is visible in his eyes. “A-And is i-it?” I stuttered, taking a step back as he keeps on walking towards me. “You told me earlier, there's something in return. If I agree, what it is in return?” I stopped backing away when I felt my back hit the wall of the tree house. He did not miss the opportunity to corner me with his two arms. Gradually, I felt my heart beat faster. It is rare when our faces get so close that I can almost smell his sweet breath. He smells like strawberries, so hypnotizing to smell. “You're going to let me write you stories,” he said, his eyes landed on my lips. I felt the urge to do the same, so I did. My eyes fixated on his thin, pale pinkish lips. I don't know why, but it's as if inviting me to come closer to him. Damn! What is happening? “I will be your ghostwriter, in one simple condition.” “What i-is i-it?” I mumbled after I rerouted my gaze to him, which caught my guards off. He's already staring at me. That means- Did he see me almost fantasizing about his lips? “Love me.” A deafening silence took over me. Our bodies were close, as if we were bound to be like one. “W-what?” I asked in disbelief. He only answered me with a sweet smile. He knew I was gradually understanding what he said. Then he slightly moved away from me and even winked at me. “You mean, you will write and provide me stories and—I will,” paused the search for his gaze again. There I saw genuine happiness as he slightly nodded his head. “Write to love you.”