disclaimer: disclaimed.
notes: this is weird, ambiguous. and not linear. sorry. i seem to be incapable of writing something happy. and yes, the title is a line in the story.
summary: she was in love, once. / lily&teddy, slowly colliding.
the impossibility of them
ϟ
you're such a pretty girl, people say to her all the time, and then they give her this sort of sad look, as if saying i don't understand why you aren't in love right now.
truth is, she doesn't want to be.
/
she was in love, once. with a boy whose hair changed from color to color and who visited three times a week, sometimes more.
but that was then.
/
why don't you ask him, lil? lucy asks her one day. lucy never knew who she was in love with. just that she was. the worst he can say is no, right?
exactly, she replies.
/
a couple years ago, when he would be over with victoire, lily would imagine switching places with her. being the one to hold his hand, to kiss, to go home with. she'd daydream about what could be and spent hours in her room writing about him, about the impossibility of them.
now, all she does is push him out of her mind.
/
when she was in love with him, lily didn't feel like herself. she felt vulnerable. she cared what he thought of her and she hated it. she hated caring about someone's opinion about her. she hated going over every little thing that they said to each other, over-analyzing it and thinking about what she could've said that would've made the conversation better.
but most of all, she hated feel weak.
/
what happened with you and that one boy - elliot, was it? he asks her one night after she was in love with him. you two seemed good together.
she shrugs. he didn't want it anymore.
did you?
a pause.
i don't think i ever did.
/
her experiences with love aren't many. really, she's only had one with completely real, true love.
but she hid it in a box and put it under her bed.
/
she can't help but think of him as an incurable disease. a virus that's attacking every cell in her body, infecting her blood with something that makes her fragile, powerless.
actually, she refuses to realize that the disease isn't a disease. it's her salvation.
/
she was in love, once.
but now, looking at that same boy whose hair changes from color to color and who still visits three times a week, sometimes more, except this time without a girl on his arms, she realizes that she may never have been out of it.
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