A short story (good end)

It was the beginning of the end of my middle school years. However, I wasn't in a class with any of my usual friends, so I watched as my introverted self slowly became alienated from my class. But he walked up to my obscure desk and asked if we could be friends. My dull world suddenly became bright again.

We always sat together in our warm, isolated corner during our limited time for lunch. We'd talk about the mundane occurrences of our lives sprinkled with his vivacious laughs, and that was the world to me. In our breaks, we'd sit shoulder to shoulder to observe our world in quiet musical sessions between shared earbuds and the occasional brush of warm hands.

He was a baseball player, the ace of his team, and he invited me to his championship game. I arrived early and awkwardly walked to the faded bleachers to slowly watch as they were filled with avid fans, most of which were girls. Despite my feelings of alienation, I was able to enjoy the game in a way I've never experienced.

In the end we lost and he went about spilling words of consolation with the most mournful expression upon his face. After the crowds faded, I slowly approached to comfort him. He started to cry, with tears like diamonds, and this oxymoronic view surprised me. I held him in my arms in an attempt to shield him from the cruel morality of the world. As he cried on my shoulder, I could feel my own heart grow wet and warm from his tears.

Next I saw him, his eyes were red and puffy, testimony to the moment we shared together. I observed his interactions with his friends: graceful movements, a strong voice, and an emotional core. I suddenly felt grateful for the miracle that led us to be in the same class as mutual... friends. My daydreams were interrupted by the heavy steps of students and the sound of the monotone school bell.

I observed his exquisite features from the corner of my eye. I daydreamed about what kind of person he'd date. I theorized to myself, "Probably a cute, enthusiastic, extrovert. The opposite of me..." I suddenly felt a sharp twinge of pain in my chest. I ignored it and looked back at him, only to meet his deep eyes.

I could feel my cheeks bloom crimson flowers and my heart quickly becoming more erratic. I felt the eternity that was growing between us and turned away, putting my headphones on to drown out the noise of my heart.

That night I dreamed of the ethereal life I could have with him, if he loved me. I woke up to the cold sky crying on my window, and I proceeded to as well. With the presence of my sticky semen, I realized I'd fallen in love with another man.

I denied these feelings with my entire being, "It's only admiration," I ineffectively chanted to myself. It was the middle of the school year. The overnight school trip was coming up, and I was excited to uncover some new sides to him as his "buddy."

During our guided tour, I laughed with him enough to last a lifetime. In our free time, his urging hand on my wrist made my heart beat quickly enough to make my head turn fuzzy with happiness. When I slept next to him in our room, I felt his tingling breath on my neck so that I couldn't sleep from nervousness. I left the tourist resort feeling the most alive I was in a long time. I happily admitted to myself: I was in love with him, and it made my world sparkle with happiness.

It was the last month of the school year and the frantic bustling of students resolving their qualms was apparent. He and I were quietly watching this and talking about our own futures. He suddenly reminded me about how we'll be going to different high-schools. A jolt of despair ran through my body. "Different high-schools means we won't see each other anymore," I franticly concluded.

With adrenaline and fear coursing through my veins, I said the words that would make or break our relationship, "I love you." His eyes slowly drifted up to my watering ones. We stared at each other as I quickly began to panic. He then looked away with a distraught expression on his face and quietly whispered, "I'm sorry." And I ran away.

I desperately avoided him to respect his wishes and to escape further dejection. Everyday I grew more tired and unhappy without him by my side. I kept up the farce of being okay all the way until the last day: graduation.

I had let my guard down and he caught up while I was running away. He tackled me down and pinned me to the floor of an obscure corner. With a flushed face he told me the words I'd feared the most, "I'm sorry." But he then followed it up with, "I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier, that I didn't say it earlier... I-I like you too." My stunned face lifted to a teary smile. And I happily whispered, "Thank you,” before our lips joined in a kiss.