I had been unaware of it for some time, as it lay hidden in my subconscious. But the fact stood; it existed and it unnerved me, subtly at first, the anxiety growing with the shift of the feeling to my conscious mind. For all the shrewd observation skills that were supposed to come with my leadership role, I was mildly certain Jean had seen it before I had. There were a few times she had caught me staring and smiled at me in a way that caused me to wonder at her sanity. Only later did I realize she knew.

She knew there was a reason I paid him more attention, worried about him more. Fussing was what she called it when we finally had an actual conversation about the 'situation'. I denied it wholeheartedly, arguing that it was concern and nothing more. But why then, did I find myself losing faith in my own case?

There was a mixture of shock and disgust when I first caught myself gawking at him, which only grew at startling revelation that I had been doing so all along. I attempted to rationalize my feelings by sorting out the reasons why a relationship could never work. Unfortunately the cons were being twisted into pros by my traitorous mind. 'It would only ostracize use further' became 'We would only need each other anyway'. It was then I knew that had dug my grave.

I stopped resisting and instead concentrated on not allowing my mind to recklessly control my actions, or worse, my tongue. I indulged myself, entranced by his laughter and beautiful eyes. Soon, Jean's aggravating, knowing looks were accompanied by Kitty's. I was unsure how many people were aware of my feelings, but I assumed that the one whom they concerned was blissfully oblivious. He was too consumed by his own troubles, which, in part, had become mine.

Consoling him after the breakup had been a surreal experience. A part of me rejoiced, declaring triumphantly that it knew parental pressures would eventually bear down too heavily upon her. The other part was screaming, sobbing, and agonizing over the fact that offering a friendly hug in sympathy was the furthest I would ever get.

Still, something felt different the day following the ugly episode, and I found myself staring aimlessly out the library window when he strode in, appearing indifferent and unchanged by what transpired the night before. I heard him sit down in the chair beside mine, though I only felt the need to look over when he quietly said my name. There was a small, nearly imperceptible smile on his face that I had the distinct impression of having seen before. By the time I recognized its meaning, his face was already close to mine, pushing past any natural personal boundaries I may have had. He had known.

I was the ignorant one, and strangely enough, I only found myself absurdly pleased by the fact.

AN: I really don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this but oh well, I suppose there are worse fics lurking about on this site.