When We Were…

Disclaimer: Only my thoughts, dear, only my thoughts. Everything else belongs to she-who-is-rich-and-famous.

A/N: This doesn't happen to be about any pairing in particular (though I like to think of it as D/P), but it's just a hopeless love story. Anyway, hope you enjoy and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review!

Thanks a bunch!

When we were five I asked him to be my best friend. He said, "No, you're an icky girl!" and stuck his tongue out at me. He then pushed me into the sand box! I scraped my knee and held back my tears until he ran away laughing about some silly game. I didn't want the stupid little boy to see me crying, I was a big girl and mummy said that big girls don't cry...unless they want ice cream and hugs.

When we were five she asked me to be her best friend. I thought she looked stupid with her pig tails and pink ribbons. I pushed her into the sand box, laughing as I saw that she scraped her knee. I didn't see her cry at all. That was pretty brave of a girl in my book, but I didn't say anything to her then, I had the serious business of playing Super-Warlocks.

When we were eleven, I asked him again to be my friend. This time he didn't push me away but said, "Okay. I'll be your friend." We played games and pranks on each other, studied together, told our secrets and fears to each other and really became friends. I had never smiled so brightly.

When we were eleven she asked me to be her friend, and this time I said I would. She was a great friend, making me feel safe. I needed her to comfort me.

When we were thirteen I asked him to be my best friend. He said, "Twit, I'm already your best friend." I was so excited, my face was about to break in half.

When we were thirteen she asked me to be her best friend. I told her that I already was. She never has to worry about that. I would always be her best friend no matter what. When we began to be friends I soon realized that she was my greatest weakness, but I didn't care.

When we were 15 he told me he loved everything about me. I cried that night because I thought I didn't deserve him.

When we were fifteen I told her that I loved her. She was the only reason that I was breathing. I loved her with every part of me, not just my heart. I didn't deserve her.

When we were 18 he told me he hated me, that he never loved me, that I was annoying and should just die. I cried until I could no longer breathe.

When we were eighteen, I hurt her, I hurt myself. I told her I hated her. I was terrified that she was something without me when I was nothing without her. I was stupid and didn't know what I had done. I didn't know that I destroyed the only good thing in my life. I made her leave and I didn't chase after her.

When we were 20 he asked for forgiveness and my hand in marriage. I told him to go to hell. I was tired of his games, tired of every petty fight and loss, tired of being miserable. This time I didn't cry because of him, but because I broke my own heart.

When we were twenty I finally was able to swallow my pride. I went and begged her, asked her to be my wife, and I promised to make her happier than in her wildest dreams. I was too late. She didn't love me anymore. Now all I can say is that it just wasn't meant to be.

When we are old, he'll look back and never realize all the tears that he made me cry. When he has a family all of his own he will talk about the part of his life with me in it like it was nothing, but to me it was everything. He'll never know that I always loved him and that, try as I might, I never stopped.

When we are old, she'll look back at her past and never realize how much of my life she touched. When she has a family all of her own she'll never know that I couldn't ever sleep because I lost her. She'll never understand that I needed her, that I understood her, that my happiness and sanity hung in the balance of three simple words.

I forgive you.