"You can do this," your best friend assures you.
You nod, untying the elastic holding your braid. You loosen your hair so that the waves fall over your shoulders perfectly.
This needs to be perfect.
"Do you know where he is?" you whisper to her as you fix your make-up.
"I saw him heading back over by the library. Around the back. Go! Hurry!"
You nod at her before you walk over, taking long and quick strides. Your flats make little to no sounds as you walk up the steps. You cut across the lawn up here and head towards the back. You need him to be alone so you can confess
and you need to confess soon.
You've been in love with Leon for nearly eleven months now. It started in your English III class. He never spoke much, nor was it ever easy to tell what was on his mind, but his few words and his artwork, you grew to love him.
Especially when after he gave you this amazing drawing of a girl surrounded by a fierce, long dragon, but it looked as if she commanded it.
He opened up to you slowly, like letting you know of how he admires Jackie Chan and how he is afraid of the dark.
Every quirk and oddity, his light brown eyes and his dark hair, his accent and choice of clothing
you love all of it.
And he needs to know before you implode.
Yes, implode. This crush you have on him makes you feel like you'll cave in, get crushed under the weight.
You quickly catch sight of him, at his beautiful, choppy hair. You glimpse at his bangs as they slightly cover his brown eyes, and he has the same apathetic look he usually has.
Your heart starts to beat rapidly.
this time it isn't from seeing him. Rather, it's from who's in front of him. Leaning against the wall, a stupid grin on her face, is a girl with long, brown hair, down to her waist. Her eyes are as green as the freshly-mowed grass. With a tiny waist and perfectly pink lips, she's gorgeous. Her eyes are wide, like a doe's, and she looks incredibly
"sexy" in her outfit.
"I love you, Leon," she murmurs before she stands on her toes, pressing her lips against his.
You heart drops a thousand miles, headed for the center of the earth. It would rather burn within the iron-nickel core than have you watch this longer.
Shit. You'd rather burn there than watch this any longer.
You watch as they break the kiss, and he glances to the side, saying something softly to her. That's when his eyes fall on you, ready to crumble where you stand, and there is the first hint of even the slightest expression on his face.
Something in you begins to turn, like the gears of a clock.
He opens his mouth to shout out your name. "___________!"
But you don't linger to hear anymore. You whip around and break into a run, using all your muscles to make it as far as you can. Your heart pumps quickly, your breathing becomes short and choppy, and you can feel everything burn within you. You run across the street blindly, no stopping to look both ways.
You just want to get away, erase the horrid visual from your brain.
You don't want it to be true.
But it is.
You know you're going crazy. You can still hear his voice, the agony in it as he called your name earlier. It seems to be repeating inside your head, like when a song spazzes out halfway through and a small bit is stuck, forever singing until you fix it.
How do you fix this? Is it even possible?
You stumble into a stop, your throat on fire. It is like the devil himself is inside there, setting the place ablaze. You collapse on one of the benches, and you can feel the lactic acid build up inside your muscles. Everything hurts, and you know it'll only feel worse tomorrow when you wake.
Leon stops in front of you, panting heavily. "__-__________," he says.
"W-what are you doing here?" you blurt angrily. You can't help but feel annoyed and frustrated and livid. You feel like you could punch the wall and make it cave in.
kiss," he says as he crumples down next to you. His hand is over his chest, as if he is trying to capture the racing heart within his chest and force it to calm down.
You don't say anything, simply wait until your throat stops throbbing so much. You need to be able to properly breathe air so you can run away again.
"__________, say something," he whispers.
His face is blank, turned away from you. Once again, he seems to guard his expressions. He doesn't want you to know what he's feeling.
But his voice shows the desperation.
"I did," you answer, swallowing hard. Your chest still hurts.
"It didn't mean anything
not to me," he says before he reaches over, cradling the side of my face. "There is only one girl I want, and she is you."
He can't hide the evidence of a crimson blush on his cheeks, but the rest of his face is keep emotionless. "You're the only girl I want. That other girl
she was confessing. She kissed me."
I was coming to confess to you," you admit as you touch his hand, the one he is using to bring your face closer to his.
"That's what I thought," he murmurs.
"That's what you thought?" you blurt.
"You're like an open book, _________. Your emotions and thoughts are etched into your expressions and voice and gestures. I've known that you liked me for nearly two months now."
You push him in the chest, and he flies backwards, stunned at your sudden attack. "For two months?" you scream. "And you let me wonder in agony of you liked me back, let me do all the stupid things I did to try and impress you? If you want me so bad, why didn't you say anything?"
He stays quiet, looking at my shoes.
"Why aren't you answering me?" you demand.
"They weren't stupid," he whispers, and you find yourself going pink. "They
were cute. And I tried to
show you. I guess I'm not very good
at being obvious."
Your blood pressure returns to normal, and you say "what the hell" to any concerns. You rush forward, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and you pull him in for a kiss.
He's eager to kiss back, being entirely gentle and sweet with you.
When he pulls back, there is a soft smile on his face.
Oh, my. A rare smile.
The only time you've seen a smile on his face was
when you were trying to impress him. He'd give you small smiles as subtle hints that he liked you back.
You forgot how bad he is at expressing his emotions.
"_________?" he asks as he holds your hand. "Will you be my girlfriend?"
You simply throw your arms around him as your answer.