Title: Nothing At All
Summary: "I thought about how much I hate you." Where everything happens, yet nothing happens at all.

Note:
I checked over this, I did, but there may still be mistakes... I appologize if there are.
I have no idea why I wrote this. ouo;; The idea just come one night and... Well, this happened. I hope you enjoy, though.


I turn my head to the side and…

Oh, look.

It's you.

You're walking down the street, but you stop suddenly. I suppose you noticed a shiver coming from the person beside you. You stand there like your "gentlemanly" and "noble" self, lending your scarf to the brunette girl who was walking with you. She blushes deeply as she manages a "Thank you" while you smile at her. That smile that I hate so much.

I thought about how much I hate you.

Now, I know that you know I hate you. I mean, it's pretty obvious. We fight to no end, both physically and verbally. We glare at each other with so much hatred it could burn a hole in a wall. Anyone would realize that.

But I know that you don't realize just how much I hate you. Or maybe you do.

Do you know that I hate every word you utter? Every move you make? Every face you show?

Especially to her. I hate them so much more when they're directed at her. Those kind words you say to her. Those hands that you use to hold hers when you feel brave enough. Those polite yet barely affectionate smiles you give her.

You're so sweet and kind to her. It disgusts me, angers me, fills me with utter hatred.

Do you realize this? I'm sure you have probably noticed over the years that I harbor a hatred for you concerning her.

I love her. I love her and you stole her from me. You get to receive from her what I'll never get in hundreds or thousands of years. Or ever, rather (our life-spans are confusing and complicated). And I'm jealous of you.

I know that's what you're thinking. You're probably absolutely certain that that is the reason, no way around it.

HA.

As if I could ever fall in love with that crazy, abusive, frying pan wielding witch. You must be psychotic to think I would ever fall for her (you're pretty psychotic for loving her, yourself). She's violent, scary, and I swear, she's the devil in disguise. I would rather die than love her (I might just get killed by her if I ever fell for her).

If only you knew my real reasons. Heh. You'd freak. You'd be shocked, disgusted, maybe even scared.

I hate those kind words you say to her because I don't want you to be so nice to her, or anyone else, really.

I hate those hands that you use to hold hers when you feel brave enough because I want to feel brave enough take yours into my own.

I hate those polite yet barely affectionate smiles you give her because that affection should be mine and only mine.

But no, I'll never tell you that. What good would it do if I did?

I mean, it's not like there's any possibly chance of you feeling even remotely close to the same as I do. It's better if you just don't know. Then it won't be awkward. Then you won't avoid me for fear of hurting my feelings or any of that crap. Then you won't stop talking to me.

Then I won't have to stop seeing you all together.

Look what you've done. You've made me sound like some kind of sap or hopeless romantic, and that's so not awesome.

But there's nothing I, nor you, can do anything about it. If I could change the way I feel, I would. Trust me, I would. It's not like I like feeling this way. I hate it.

And I still hate you. I hate you so much.

I hate you for doing this to me.

I look back up to see that you and Elizaveta had walked away long ago. I tug my coat closer around myself, shove my hands into my pockets, and continue on my way home.

Fuck you, Roddy.

… I love you.