Inside his Subconcious

"What do you want from me?" Andrew asks, masking his emotions with
his crossed eyebrows and tense face. "I told you I don't want to have
anything to do with you."

Mina's face in front of him is real. Pleading sympathy and another
chance, just like his heart. "Can't we go somewhere and talk?" He
pleads. "There is so much I want to tell you."

Andrew forgets their history, their childhood adventures. He forgets
the time he sprained his ankle when they were only eleven years old at
a camping trip. Mina was there to let Andrew lean on him until they got
back to their tent, knowing that even though it hurt Andrew, he
couldn't ask him if he was alright because that would ruin his
bravado.

Mina doesn't forget this. He feels nostalgic and wishes he could be ten
again, when girls didn't pose a threat to your friendship with your
best friend. "Can't we be ten again?" he thinks; wishes to say, but
knows he can't because it would only gain him a scornful laugh as a
retort from Andrew.

Andrew doesn't consciously realize that this
screw-the-rest-of-the-world attitude is his ammunition of self-defense.
He doesn't realize he's doing this because he's afraid to trust Mina
again. All he is thinking is how Mina betrayed him. He lets the flicker
of hate in his heart burn into a big fire. Feeding it with dry branches
of all the reasons he has to hate Mina. This he does purposely. And he
knows that his eyes became more like holes, his face tenser and his
expression darker. He inwardly smiled at how well he could keep this
expression. Feeds more into the fire. Remembering how Mina told Sandy,
Andrew's first crush, how much he liked her; and when Mina ruined
Andrew's collection of finger paint drawings he cherished so much in
the fourth grade. Until the painted hatred on his face was real and he
didn't need to muster any affectation to indifferently mutter "I don't
want to hear it."