The day Helga laid her entire heart on the line was the day that she finally realized that everything she felt for him was a simple waste. Something from her childhood she clung to in the hopes of escape. Her love for him would never be returned, and the years she spent dreaming of this moment were meaningless in all but one aspect: it finally gave her the ability to move on.
He was never cruel about it, of course. Their friendship, which deepened over the course of middle and high school, was enough to ensure that. It was the friendship, after all, that gave her the courage to finally admit everything to him. Without that, her suspicions told her that she would be mocked, emotionally battered and left alone without the raft of hope to keep her afloat.
She planned this moment since kindergarten. Over the years, the exact words she wanted to use changed, creating a more eloquent speech than the simple, "I don't like-like you, I love you," one she developed in her young age. The few times she had outbursts of emotion, she was always able to cover it up with little white lies. If he ever suspected anything, he kept quiet, possibly to avoid a more awkward situation.
When the moment finally came, she knew that the words flowing out of her mouth weren't quite the ones she planned. For a few weeks afterwards, she'd focus on every syllable that left her mouth, overanalyzing whatever detail she could to see if she could have changed his mind by using synonyms instead. It wasn't the words, however, that she did or didn't use. She knew this. The soft look in his eyes as he attempted to easily let her down told her as much. The friendship she created to keep her safe was also her downfall. He couldn't view her as anything else.
Despite the initial pain and instinct to revert to her inner child in an attempt to save herself (the phrase "Football Head" almost slipped out several times), she was able to remain calm. He didn't leave her to be alone, something she secretly appreciated. Sitting on the park bench, a familiar place for both of them, he was able to keep her from raging.
The months after weren't as awkward as expected. She still loved him, but it was easier to forget that fact with each passing day. To have her best friend near, always wanting to make sure she was happy, was enough. She was no longer holding onto the hope that he'd feel the same about her as she did for him, but she was also no longer keeping herself isolated to only him. The rare times someone would actually give her the look, Helga was able to actually give them, and her, an actual chance.
It was a waste to love him for so long, but it didn't mean she regretted the good that came from those years of pure hope.
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A/N: Not my best work, but it's the first time that I've been inspired to write since . . . well, since my last fic. Short, simple and extremely important for me at this point in my life. Hope you enjoyed it.