The Fine Line Between Love and Hate
You're standing tall, high above a shorter blonde with furious blue eyes staring back at your own. There are no words left to be said between the both of you. You move back after a few seconds, looking away, eyebrows furrowed. As those blue eyes continue to hold his glare, you feel a slight heaviness in your chest. The silence seems to pound through your ears.
Finally, when you can't take it anymore, you walk away. Running your hand through your flaming red hair, you wonder what went wrong.
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You're standing beside a slightly open door, listening in to a conversation between two blondes. You wanted to apologize but felt it rude to interrupt.
"Do you love him or do you hate him, huh, Rox?"
Your ears pick up to the words "love" and "hate" and you move in a little nearer in hopes to hear a clear answer.
"I love him and I hate him."
His answer makes you cock your head. You unconsciously clutch your chest and lean your head on the wall, flattening your spiky hair in the process. His companion then asks the question silently dancing through your mind.
"Why do you hate him?"
And somehow, if it were still possible, you clench your fists even tighter in anticipation.
"I don't know." He replies.
"Okay… then why do you love him?"
His hesitation makes you worry a little. Your palms are beginning to hurt yet you still remain tense.
"I don't know either."
The quiet pause that fell upon the three individuals was the most deafening they had ever experienced. It was almost too awkward, too painful to continue waiting for someone to say something. A response. A grunt. A sigh. A nervous laugh. Anything. When you finally decide to stop listening and leave, someone speaks up.
"Maybe…"
And you stop in your tracks.
"Maybe if you hate someone and you don't have a reason… maybe you don't hate him after all."
You are a quite stunned by this bit of wisdom you've just overheard and it seems the shorter blonde is, too. Because of his speechless state, the other blonde continues. You could almost picture him in your head as he tried to make out what he was trying to say next with his hands.
"And maybe… since love and hate are opposites, maybe, if you love someone and you don't have a reason for that either, then just maybe, you really, really do love that person."
And with that, you temporarily lose your ability to speak. You think that that other blonde did have something to say that's worth listening to. You concentrate on hearing a reply. You don't even mind that this conversation inserts the word "maybe" more than it should.
"Maybe… you're right, Demyx."
To this, you beam and the hand grasping onto your coat slowly loosens its grip and falls to your side. And when you feel the time is right, you step into the room, hurriedly, almost colliding with the other blonde. You look straight at him, blankly at first, and then you smile again. You see him bow his head and secretly smile back. You try to say a silent "thank you" with your eyes and hope he understands.
When you take your eyes off him, you encounter the furious blue eyes of the shorter blonde again. You start chuckling and when his glare hardens, you realize you've been crossing, back and forth, the fine line between love and hate.