I love him.

His feelings.

The facade he had on whenever you brought up your crush in front of him which was almost every time would fade away into the night when he lay on his bed in the comfort of his dark room with his head not on the pillow but at the foot of the bed that he'd let all of his frustration out. Pull at his hair and make the bed into a pulp by hitting it so hard with his large fists, yelling into the sheets remembering your face when talking and thinking about that stupid jerk.

Thinking about when he meets that stupid jerk after he becomes your boyfriend, how he'd kick the shiteu and lifeu out of him... oh how he'd break all the bones in that stupid jerk's body and make him suffer just like the way he did but with more physical damage.
He had to hide these feelings, he shouldn't let you know and make you avoid him. He knew you'd only say okay and keep being friends with him but you'd never look at him the same way, you'd never be comfortable in his presence and he'd hate life and all the universe after that.

He preferred kicking the shiteu out of his bed imagining it was that stupid jerk than you distancing yourself away from him and giving him pitiful looks way more. Yes he'd still be best friends and that was more than he could ask for after you reject him but he'd hate it, the looks you'd give him, he'd hate it and he'd hate his life he'd become an emo punk. It was all for you though so it's okay if he was suffering for you. He loved you but he chose not to show, it was all for you though.

It was all for you.