Disenchantment
.
.
when you find out
he's in love with someone else
.
.
"Hey!" You greet him with your usual smile. He turns towards you with a slapstick grin on his face. Despite the formal occasion, his shirt's already wrinkled and his tie is haphazardly done.
Your hands automatically reach to straighten the crooked tie. "What would you do without me?" you mumble, half to yourself and half to him.
"Probably die of public humiliation," he says, and with a smile, he has swept you off your feet again.
You take a step back to take him, everything of him, in. The soft wispy brown hair. The shining blue eyes. The tanned cheeks. The smooth curve of his neck. Everything is so…so…
"Beautiful."
"Yeah, I know right?" you say unconsciously. Then you realize he isn't talking about whatever crap you're thinking about and instead staring at her.
There's always a her.
"The dress matches her eyes," he whispers, and you can see it in his big blue eyes. You can see the affection plain as day under the LED lights attached to the ceiling.
She doesn't look familiar. "What's her name?" you ask.
"Naminé." The word is whispered so lightly you have to strain your neck forward to hear. He's enraptured, long gone. You can only see how hard he's fallen: as hard as you've fallen for him.
And you don't have it in your heart to either squelch or foster that blooming affection. You really don't know what to do. You're at a loss, and because you're best friends (or something along those lines…because really, when were a guy and a girl justfriends?), he immediately senses something's amiss.
"What's wrong?" he asks, concern evident in his eyes.
"Nothing," you quickly say, but your heart whispers everything.
"Okay." He's quick to dismiss the matter since his attention is drawn to that shining beacon in the middle of the room, glowing in her midnight blue dress with rhinestones that catch the lights and make it seem like she's enveloped in some sort of otherworldly glow. You self-consciously tug at the plain green dress you're wearing that really makes you look like Christmas, what with your red hair and all. It's really ridiculous but your aunt had insisted you'd look gorgeous. You remember a second (or an hour) too late that your aunt is colorblind.
There isn't much you can do as you watch him falling for her, too busy to catch your falling heart. Your heart that has fallen for three years and has been waiting for him to catch it at the end of this tumultuous ride. Then you realize that when it hits the concrete ground, it probably really really really really hurts.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again.
There's a chance. There's a chance to come clean. You can confess and tell him everything about your feelings, about how you'd always wished you two could be something more, how you don't want him falling for stupid Naminé and her stupid dress that matches her eyes. Your dress matches your hair! In the eyes of your colorblind aunt, at least. The words are threatening to slip from her tongue – you were always a fiery, straightforward person – but at the last minute, you stop them.
"I'm fine," you finally say.
It hurts, it really does, but you ignore the searing pain that's cutting through your heart. You say the right words to divert his attention. "Why don't you go say hi to her? She looks like she could use some company."
His eyes brighten up, and they're so bright you're momentarily blinded. "Really? You don't think it'll be awkward, right?"
"Why would it?" You're still blind. You can only hear his overly optimistic voice.
"Okay. Okay." The second 'okay' is said for self-assurance – you can tell. "Okay. You'll be fine, right?"
"Yeah." You can only manage monosyllabic sounds now. Slowly, the colors of the room return and his smile floods your vision. "Yeah." The word is as hollow as your heart.
"Okay then. Thanks!" He scampers off towards her direction. You think you see him hesitate for a moment and almost turn back but you suppose it's only a trick of the mind.
.
.
That night, you try telling yourself you're not in love with him, and he's not in love with you, and all the small gestures and hidden glances and conversations riddled with subtext were just - nothing.
Because believing that would be so much easier than dealing with heartbreak.
A/N: Disenchantment - a feeling of disappointment about someone or something you previously respected or admired; disillusionment
This is a writing exercise since I read a piece that utilized the second-person very well and I wanted to take a stab at it. Also, this discusses one of the aspects of love that is less commonly explored but I believe is just as significant: unrequited love.
Any comments or questions, please don't hesitate to leave a review or PM me!