Title: Philosophy 101; 5/6
Category: Other/Multi POV
Summary: One by one, everyone in Roswell answers the question: If a tree falls in a forest, but nobody is around to hear it, does the tree make a sound?
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If a tree falls in a forest, but nobody is around to hear it, does the tree make a sound?
Max and Liz used to have that whole ‘look into your soul’ thing going on. They’d stare at each other for hours and then I’d have to hear all about it from Max. Big price to pay for just a sleeping bag on his floor.
The crazy thing is that I used to believe it. I used to think that what he and Liz had was real. That their emotions had greater weight and depth than mine-even when it was just him staring at her from across the restaurant. Then he saved her-so, of course, that made whatever they felt for each other even deeper, even greater than what anyone else could feel.
If Kyle hadn’t been such a punk and his father the sheriff, I would have felt bad for him.
After all, how can you compete with ‘seeing into someone’s soul?’ You can’t. I couldn’t. Which was why I envied Max Evans for so long. Envied his powers, his house, his family, and most of all these amazing emotions with all this depth. And the fact that he could just as deftly describe them to me or to Liz. The guy was practically shouting sonnets. Which, might I add, is extremely hard for a shy ‘mysterious’ brooding guy to do.
Or maybe that’s just because I was the ‘mysterious’ brooding guy who never showed up to class and when he did just annoyed everyone.
Anyway, they had the whole fire/passion burning brightly for months. Nothing could stop the perfect couple that was Liz and Max. In fact, they became just one word: LizandMax. Or MaxandLiz, depending on the situation. Maria even wished that I was more like Max.
She was just as naive as I was.
If I was Max, I’d be a controlling freak of nature. I’d beat up trashcans and heal small birds. I’d never want to leave home or let anyone else leave home either. Only I, could love another, or understand what true love is. Love would be defined by gazes and looks-prose and whispered sentiments. I’d say the right things and go through the motions of being the perfect boyfriend.
Then I’d dump my ‘soul mate’, use someone, get her pregnant, and then scamper back to my soul mate after it’s determined that she killed my soul mate’s best friend.
I’m not some dumb foster kid. I know what Max is thinking when he looks at me. But he doesn’t know what I’m thinking when I look at him. He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t know me.
He’s my semi-brother. And I’ll always love him and he’ll love me. But he doesn’t know me.
Only she does. I kissed her to shut her up and I stole her car. I made out with her in the eraser room and she lied about seeing flashes. Max and Liz have long ‘profound’ gazes. I have the taste of her lips on my tongue. And I’m not saying this so you understand how physical our relationship is.
I’m telling you so that you’ll understand why her lips, smeared in strawberry flavored lip gloss from the local drug store, say so much more about our relationship than ‘I see into your soul’ gazes.
Because when I taste her lips, I know she’s real. I don’t have to dream about what her lips taste like. I know what they taste like. And I know I’ll never find anyone else in this universe that I’ll love as much as I love her.
So, instead, I can dream about our future. Together. Here on Earth.
Tree? How can you even think about trees when there’s a goddess smeared in lip gloss sitting in a Jetta?