Anger: Ahaan

“All I need is a time machine,” he says. “God, why does it exist only in science fiction?”
“Coz it’s fiction?” I say. Ahaan kicks the basketball with all his might, and then screams in pain. “Uh-oh,” I utter. “Bad move bro.”
“I deserve the pain anyway,” he answers. “I screwed up. I wish I could go back in time and change the past. I could’ve stopped her from leaving, man. I could’ve stopped everything from falling apart,” he says. He sits down on the court, and moves his hand through his hair. “I’m so angry at myself.”
“Don’t be,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder. We both had been friends forever, him and I. And we’d faced a lot of problems—both of us—but we’d always been at a distance.
“I just… I just want to chop myself off into pieces. Or fall off a cliff. Or be run over by a train. It’s so difficult to exist when you can clearly see how you have pushed yourself into abyss. I can’t…” he trails off. He can’t find words, and he doesn’t need to. I understand. Even though I have maintained my distance from relationships and stuff, I can understand what my best friend is going through. I had gone through it once, in some other twisted, dissimilar way, myself.
I sit down beside him, and mess up his hair a little. I don’t know what to say. After much contemplation though, I collect some words. “You shouldn’t blame yourself though, you know?” I say. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was though,” he sighs. “It was my fault. I can’t believe I was so stupid. Everything was going so well, and I… I threw it all away.”
“You didn’t. Dude, I may have no experience here, but she spent almost all her time away from you. And it wasn’t like she was going through some personal troubles. Her social life was perfectly alright. Only a schmuck won’t feel left out in such a situation. And all you did was ask her what place your relationship had in her life. That is definitely not a thing that makes you break up.”
“I should’ve trusted her, waited for her. I should’ve been a little more patient. I hate myself,” he concludes after a long pause.
I shake my head. It’s useless—convincing him that it wasn’t his fault, even when that’s what the truth is. I wish she hadn’t entered his life. She has broken him. He’s blaming himself for a thing he did that anyone else would’ve, being in his shoes. He’s angry at himself, when all he did was care and love. Care about their relationship, and love that goddamn girl.
If only, he could see what I could see. If only, he could realize that he had nothing to regret. If only, he could alter his emotion. Not the intensity, but the direction. If only, he could be angry at the right person. If only…