Eyes that lied

Fall of the Mask & Screaming Eyes

Why did I feel like I was a choice... and not the priority?

​I could find no satisfying answer to this question that weighed upon me like loads of lead. But my heart—that submissive traitor—knew that what was coming would not be simple, and that the story Noah was weaving with his silence, and Luca was confusing with his actions, still concealed a shock far greater than I expected. The questions entangled in my mind: Why was Noah so insistent on proximity when he was living through a bitter conflict with his past and his desire for my friend? I knew that this clinging to me was not pure, but attachment makes you blind, sometimes.

​I watched the messages flow, Luca’s words growing warmer and deeper. He seemed to be slowly discarding the mask of the one searching for my friend, to appear as someone interested in me. He confessed his weaknesses, his floundering, sharing personal things he was supposed to share only with a lover. In the midst of this confusion, I was deliberately bringing up Noah. Perhaps as a type of self-defense, or perhaps as a silent scream for my heart. I mentioned Noah with a faked casualness, asking Luca to tell him something, or to talk about their plans together. I was doing this for two reasons: to stay close to Noah’s name, and to see Luca’s reaction.

​Luca’s reaction was always the same: he would smile coldly and quickly change the subject. He avoided talking about Noah as if he were an invisible ghost.

​And one night, the call came that changed everything.

​It was a three-way call, as usual. Luca, Noah, and me. We were talking about something trivial, laughter here and there. Noah, as usual, spoke little, but his voice was like music my soul waited for, to dissolve in its depth. Suddenly, Luca threw out a casual question, directed at Noah, but he meant it for me: "Noah, what do you think... if Maya and I were in a relationship, what would your position be?"

​The world froze around me. I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. The question was horrifically pointed and direct, as if he wanted to embarrass Noah in front of me. Noah was silent. A long and terrifying silence. His silence was longer than usual, and heavier. Then I heard his voice, a bit harsh, as if he was forcing the words out: "This question is not my concern... The decision is yours, the two of you." The answer was dry, official, lacking any warmth or even the concern of a friend. It was as if he was placing a wall between me and him. I felt a suffocating lump in my throat. I had expected anything from him... a laugh, a joke, perhaps some hidden jealousy, anything to prove that his looks hadn’t been a lie. But the reply was empty.

​Luca laughed a faint laugh of victory.

​But the shock wasn't in Noah’s cold response. While Luca continued talking, I lifted my phone to see if Noah was still connected. And in that moment, I saw something that made my heart stop completely. Noah had left the call immediately after his last sentence, but his camera had flickered on by mistake for a single second before the line cut entirely. A single second was enough.

​I saw his face. It wasn't the face of a disinterested friend, nor the face of a cold man. His eyes burned with suppressed rage, his brows were fiercely furrowed in a way I had never seen before, and his hand was clenched tightly around something as if he was stopping himself from shattering it. He was angry. His anger was real, like fire. And he wasn't angry at Luca who threw the question.

​He was angry because he had not dared to answer. He was angry at his weakness. He was angry at his position that was not his concern.

​Here I realized the bitter truth: Noah was not disinterested. He was hiding his feelings with a strength greater than his capacity to endure. And his choice to avoid the answer was a silent confession of how important the question was to him. Now, the matter had transformed into three parties in a real conflict: Noah, who loves me and hides his love with anger; Luca, who deliberately provokes his friend, and approaches me as a choice, not a priority; and me, who fell into the trap of ambiguity and attachment.

​That stolen look, in a fraction of a second, was the true beginning of my story with them. It revealed all the cards without a single word.