I never even thought about falling in love with someone who wasn't worth loving.
He was harsh with his words and didn't understand much in this world. He didn't know how to express love with words and the emotions he expressed seemed bland and meaningless.
However, he was full of life. I certainly wasn't the first to find out about this. Watching him move and smile every day was enough to tell me he was very much alive. His soul, his mind, every muscle in his body.
I had watched him that day, his back to me. The way he ran through the field participating in whatever game we were required to play in gym.
He stood beside me at one point. We talked while everyone else played. That's when it began.
I fell for his voice, the way he spoke.
I fell for his eyes, how they were so bright.
I fell for him, and every part of him.
His hands, arms, wrists, cheeks, every place I had been able to get my hands on in the time we had been friends and even more.
He had loved me.
I loved him.
The time he was there as my lover was the time I felt the most alive.
Nothing ever lasted long.
We had promised to forget. And he had seemed very happy with that.
I kept what we had in my head, nonetheless. It had made me happy. Pulled me out of a hell hole.
Even after these months, nothing has really changed. He still shares his favourite songs with me, tells me to think of him when I listen to them, even. I'm still able to admire him from across the classroom.
We still laugh as he holds me close to him. He can push me against the lockers in the hallway, torturing me with a funny video or sad music, as I jokingly say "I hate you".
"Shh, just watch" he would say, and I'd grab his wrists in attempt to push him away.
Oh. I hated him. For various reasons. His stupidity for not being able to understand. His inability to see that I love him.
His stupid eyes and smile, the way he walks.
But I loved him.
Every part of him.
That I could hear, see, and feel.
Only as a friend.
