When I looked to him, he smiled like nothing was wrong.

 

I wished it were true.

 

There was nothing for me to say--nothing I was allowed to say, even if I wanted to. Everyone else was there, unaware of the hidden emotions behind the mask. I glanced around them, but I didn't see anyone. All I saw were obstacles. So many, many obstacles--So many faces that could never see the truth.

 

 Time was not constant. Sometimes it quickly moved forward and sometimes it dragged by in slow blurs. Time was uneven, unstable, uncomprehendable... I had no idea what was happening. I had no idea what wasn't happening. I knew when it was finished, I would lose whatever it was I was losing. I didn't know what I wouldn't be losing and I didn't know if it would matter. Whatever else I was thinking wasn't just a thought--It was several thousands of thoughts all crammed and colliding into each other in a chaotic frenzy I had no control over. The friction inside my head made me unbearably dizzy, but my eyes would not let me lose sight from where it all started - His smile.

 

 Seconds, minutes--Hell, hours, who knows--seemed to go by until my attention dragged back to him and that oddly proportioned mouth of his. It only added to my confusion as I tried to understand why it looked that way. Why the corners of his mouth were pinned upward to his dimples, why his dimples were creased within his cheeks... It seemed like a happy expression, but who was happy? Somewhere deep in my knotted thoughts, I tried to find the answer, that one thing that was supposed to be a 'happy' thing, but I couldn't find it. Then I tried again and got the same results.

 

'Why are you smiling?' I wanted to ask. 'Why is everyone else smiling?'  I wanted to scream at them. I wanted to scream! I think I wanted to do a lot of things, but I wasn't doing anything! I think I thought that I couldn't, or maybe I really couldn't and I wasn't really thinking it. But what was different to what he was thinking versus what I was thinking, what thoughts made his mouth twist up like that when my thoughts left mine in a stiff, flat line? I traced the curve of his lips and it led to his eyes, which looked so different from all the times before when I had looked at them... Maybe the answer was there, I thought. But when I looked in those eyes, it was just reflected back at me. There was no depth, no meaning, nothing. It was like trying to see details through a thick fog, trying to see a picture in a broken mirror...

 

 For the first time since standing here, I think I blinked. But the moment my eyes closed, they didn't re-open quick enough. In the darkness behind my lids, I saw us. My body was reminded of the comfort and security and warmth, the faded feelings that still sent quivers down my spine. I saw the merciless flashbacks of each whisper, each gentle touch, each passionate kiss--They all came one after the other, each one feeding to me a little of something I didn't want to think of . . The desire and need. Feelings so strong they overpowered my resistance and kept pushing the images deeper into my mind; I almost gasped. My lids shut tighter. I told myself I didn't want to see anymore of the flashbacks, and yet my lids remained shut though I don't know why . . My heart reacted impulsively against my chest the moment an image of his face came vividly into view. And then, what I had not expected, is exactly what had happened. He did that little twist with his mouth again.. And this time, I understood it: Happiness. It was happiness. That's what happiness was, all defined in the features of his face, the feelings it thrillfully radiated through me. So, what was so different about the smile performed infront of me?

 

That's when it sunk in.

 

Performed. 'Performed,' I repeated mentally. This was an act, it was all an act. He wasn't happy, he was acting and he professionally controlled the puppet strings at the corners of his mouth. And everyone around us was the audience, and they imagined it as something real. One by one, the thoughts started to unveil. They faded away into the back of my head as each confusion was eliminated. I now knew why these faceless crowds were suffocating me with their stares--I opened my eyes. They were waiting, waiting for me to perform. Somehow, I had been dragged into this and it was my turn to begin the acting, my turn to complete this show. The realization crept around my chest like a tight squeeze; it was cold and numbing. "......" But, what had I rehearsed? When had the skit been planned, why was it taking place without direction?

 

 In a rising panic, I looked straight ahead at him, trying to remember what my body wanted to do. The emotions were flooding from inside me, but I couldn't move a single inch--I was immobilized. My legs wouldn't move me closer, my arms wouldn't reach out, my lips wouldn't part, my eyes couldn't look away... My heart wanted me to react, but my body wouldn't let it, leaving me to only think of all I wanted to do. I wanted to run to him, I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go. I wanted to close my eyes and hear that everything would be okay. I wanted to bury my face in his shirt just to take in his scent... I wanted to break down right infront of him so he could save me from this nightmare. The silent rage that was growing somewhere deep inside the pit of my stomache was directed at those people, those strangers. I wanted to 'boo' them, tell them it was all fake, tell them to go home... But the most agonizing thing about it was that I was forbidden to speak the words that were reflecting in my eyes. 'I love you.'

 

 No matter what I would do, my actions would become part of the skit. No matter how much I wanted to stop the scene, there was already an ending for it... No matter what I didn't want to do, the show would still go on. The dizzyness came back to me in a sudden blow as I could feel the spotlight shift in my direction. Everyone was on the edge of their seats and I thought I could begin to feel some control in my limbs as the numbness was slowly starting to subside.. I could feel the anticipated urge to lunge forward and flip the script, change the plot and reclaim what I eagerly desired. This was it, this was my only chance! I had to act on my own--

 

 And then my muscles began tightening; working against me, the invisible strings took hold of me before I even got a chance to save us. My eyes strained themselves with horror, face stiffened with piercing pain... I closed my eyes one last time and pictured his face. That face with the wonderful smile I'd probably never get to see again. Maybe if I tried hard enough, I could have let that image go. Maybe I already did, but I'd never be able to admit to such a goodbye. My heart raced with each passing second, the end was near. I exhaled and this strange calmness drifted through my face. With one routined tug, the strings were tightened--

 

I smiled.

 

 To everyone witnessing, it was happy--Identical to the smile across from me on our made stage. Behind the mask, it wasn't a smile, though. Behind the mask it was a hysterical shriek of sobs, sorrowfully misinterpreted as happiness. Nobody knew the truth, nobody but us. All those faceless crowds of people had saw what they wanted and the show was over. The strings suddenly loosened and the feelings in my body started taking over again. Even so, I just stood there, too shocked to act. Too paralyzed to respond. I fought the rising lump in my throat and parted my lips to say something--anything--but then he turned and was already moving away from me.

 

Then I remembered--We were saying goodbye.

 

 It wasn't until he had disappeared that I felt the sharp pains, the emptiness in my chest, the weakness in my knees... This was the part where I lost. I understood now. This is where I lost the best thing that ever happened to me, and there was nothing I could do about it. I understood everything, and at the same time, nothing at all. It was over now. I tried not to close my eyes again, I didn't want to. I imagined that they were the curtains to our play. It was over now. The show was over now. It was over, but the acting would never stop. Everywhere we went, we would pretend to show this 'happiness'. We would smile for our audiences... Pretend nothing ever happened. But in reality, we would always think of that one day, the day the curtain dropped. And I would always wonder where he took the stage, always wonder if he would give up the acting career and cut our strings... I thought of just his face, again. But if there was ever anything I could get the chance to tell him...

 

I'd tell him to take a bow.