She had been wearing a light pink dress. He remembered it vividly, the cotton candy color and the small designs on it. He remembered her shoes, tiny Mary Janes with the socks rolled up. Her light brown hair, shimmering in the sunlight, flopping around in small curls. And her eyes, light brown and gold. The one thing that hadn't changed since then. Even if everything else from that day were forgotten, he knew he'd remember her eyes.
He had scampered over to the play structure, tripping only once on his stubbornly untied shoelaces. After hopping across the wood chip floor, he stood in front of the girl, out of breath. "Hi. I don't think I've met you before. You must be new. Well, you don't have to be, but Lima's a pretty small place, and I think I've met everyone. But I guess I could've missed you. Either way, I haven't talked to you before," he stopped, extending his hand and offering the girl a shy smile, "I'm Arthur. Everyone calls me Artie, though."
It was only three days later that he found himself laying, barely alive, in the hospital. Three months later that he found himself nervously rolling up to school for the first time. No one would meet his eyes. He didn't understand; his mommy has told him everything would be the same. He had even taught himself how to do a wheelie so he could impress his friends. But formerly playful gazes had turned sympathetic. Teachers and students alike averted their eyes, silently wondering if he was really better off still alive. Artie rolled on, confused but unaware.
She was the only person to meet his eyes that day. It was an inquisitive look, making him stop short. Surely she had heard about the accident; news traveled fast in Lima. So that couldn't be it. He was broken from his thoughts by her words, however. "W-What? Sorry, I didn't hear you." It was his turn to look confused as she repeated her words. "You think I should.. hang my backpack on the handlebars?" He glanced back, realizing it was, in fact, an intelligent observation. "That's.. a really good idea. Would you mind hanging it for me?"
From then on out, they were inseparable. Where one was found, the other would surely be near by. Artie became the exception to her parents' "no boys allowed" rule. And every night, he found himself wondering if this is what love was. His eyes took on an almost glazed quality around her, as if the world were blurry except for the girl in front of him who was, as she had always been, in complete focus.
She was his first kiss. It was in seventh grade, one evening laying on a picnic blanket gazing at the stars. He wasn't sure who exactly did the kissing itself. All he knew was that one second she was turning to talk to him, and he turned to face her with a small grin on his face. And then their lips met, shyly, for a second. They broke apart stammering apologies and excuses. His eyes met hers, and, before they knew what was happening, they were laughing. Quietly, hesitantly at first. But soon it was like every other evening they had spent outside. Until he leaned forward to kiss her again.
And then, a week later, she announced she was leaving. Or, well, her dad was. It was his job, she said. But he didn't hear her as he blinked back the tears from his eyes. Within days the house had been condensed into a few dozen boxes, lives really to be torn away and restarted somewhere else. He sat in the driveway, watching as she loaded the last of the boxes into the car before running to him. She felt so right in his arms, he realized. And he'd never feel this again. She gave him one last look, full of pain, as she slowly got up. Before he could stop to think, the words were out of his mouth. "I love you, y'know."
The next year and a half passed by in a blur. He was lost without her. Without her presence, her touch, her laugh, her smile.. Without the ease with which she could solve all of his problems. But soon enough he was entering high school. It was good, according to his mom, a new beginning. A place to meet new friends. But he didn't want new friends. He wanted her. And, as he nervously rolled up to the doors on the first day of school, he got his wish.
He wouldn't have been able to tell it was her. This blonde cheerleader was not the girl he had known. It couldn't be. But his fears were confirmed as some football player- he noted in the back of his mind to stay away from him- called out her last name across the hall. And she turned, fixing those amazing eyes upon his with a grin. "Hey there Puck," she replied, voice achingly familiar. She saw him then, confident stride broken as their eyes met for the first time since she had walked away to leave. He was breathless. She was still beautiful. Awe-inspiringly so, really. And while she looked so different, he knew just by gazing into those golden eyes that she hadn't changed at all.
Artie wasn't stupid, though. He was a loser, a cripple, a geek. She was a cheerleader. Things like that just didn't happen. And so he contented himself from observing her from afar. Or, well, sometimes up close. But it was hard to observe someone if they were throwing a slushie at your face. Until one day when he entered the choir room to find her sitting there. She could sing, he remembered. She had loved to sing about everything, anything. But he knew by the way she refused to meet his eyes that this wasn't because she remembered. Even though she did. Which only seemed to make it worse.
And soon she was pregnant. He was surprised to notice he didn't even care. Because love can only stand the weight of so many blows. But his gaze still followed her as she ran out of the choir room, fingers still itched to follow quickly behind. He locked his wheels to prevent another thought.
They fell into an uneasy friendship. Or deal, really. He left her alone, let her block out the past. Block out him. She was free, finally, from his hold on her heart. But her claims of love to each boy around her never felt right. Love wasn't supposed to be something you had to write on your to-do list each morning.
This lasted until their senior year, when, one dark evening, her car was hit. She awoke days later in the hospital, Artie sitting sadly by her side. And he didn't even have to speak for her to know. Know that out of every boy who had claimed to love her, only one was here before her. It had been over five years ago that he had told her. And she had never replied, never truly spoken to him since that day. Every word she had said had been empty, cruel. So she turned to him, smiling the same grin she had been on the evening of their first kiss. "I love you, y'know."