The sky blue trap

The gentle, continuous vibration of the bus window against my forehead acted like a time machine. As the rainy city streets blurred away, the cold night air melted into the chaotic, electric atmosphere of the winter of 2022. The World Cup season.

The entire neighborhood was painted in green-and-yellow or sky-blue-and-white. Ren, with his quiet stubbornness, was a die-hard Brazil fan. I, on the other hand, lived and breathed Argentina.

That evening, the madness had hit its peak. I had sneaked my brand-new, oversized Argentina jersey into his house. My heart was pounding, not just from excitement, but from pure nerves. Our families were strict—if anyone walked in and caught us doing this, there would be endless questions, whispers, and trouble. The risk was real, but my stubbornness was bigger.

"Put it on, Ren. Just once," I had pleaded, holding up the sky-blue striped jersey.

Ren took a step back, staring at it like it was radioactive. "Are you insane, Daisy? I support Brazil. I am not wearing that. Never."

"You have to!"

"No."

Seeing his flat refusal, my brain went into full chaotic mode. I shoved the jersey into his hands, pushed him backward into the washroom, and slammed the door shut. Before he could turn the knob, I clicked the lock from the outside.

"Daisy! Open the door!" Ren banged on the wood, his voice a panicked whisper. He knew as well as I did how risky this was. "If someone comes upstairs right now, we are both dead. Open it!"

I leaned my back against the locked door, my heart racing against my ribs. I looked left and right down the empty hallway, terrified that a footsteps would echo at any second. Yet, a wicked grin spread across my face.

"I’m not opening it until you put it on!" I whispered back loudly. "Put it on or stay locked in there forever!"

Silence followed. A long, agonizing minute passed. I stood guard outside, holding my breath, jumping at every tiny sound from downstairs. My hands were shaking back then too—but with the thrill of mischief, not the cold dread I felt tonight.

Click.

The lock turned. I stepped back as the door swung open.

Ren walked out, and I swear I had to cover my mouth to stop myself from screaming with laughter. The jersey swallowed him completely, the sleeves dropping past his elbows. He stood there, looking like the most beautifully miserable captive in history. His hair was a bit messy, his cheeks were slightly flushed, and he looked thoroughly defeated by a twelve-year-old’s tantrum.

He crossed his arms, looking down at the sky-blue stripes on his chest, and sighed heavily.

"Ok, fine," he murmured, a reluctant, soft smile breaking through his fake annoyance. His eyes melted as he looked at me beaming with joy. "This time it will be the last. I am never, ever wearing this jersey again. Happy?"

He was terrified of the family finding out, he hated the team, yet he stood there in the middle of the hallway, adjusting the massive sleeves, just because he knew it made me happy. He always let me win.

A sudden bump on the road jerked my head away from the window. The warm hallway from 2022 vanished instantly.

I opened my eyes to the dark, silent night bus. My hands were still shaking on my lap, but this time, it was from the cold weight of reality. I looked down at my phone. No notifications. No texts from him.

A single tear finally slipped down my cheek. Where are you tonight, Ren? I whispered into the empty space. Who is going to lock me away from my storms now?

......................

To be continued.

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