April 16, 2012
I wrote this a while back, earlier this year. I didn't really know if I should upload it or not, as I wrote this as a quick oneshot, without much planning/thought/idea of where I wanted to go with it. Anyways, I hope you do enjoy this!
The Fleeting Moment
I remember stealing glances at him all the time in that one class we happened to have together. I couldn't help it.
I don't know what it was that made me so attracted to him, that even when I tried to keep my eyes on the board and at the teacher, they would drift back to that messy shock of hair and those emerald eyes. Just like how a compass point always returns to one direction.
He was as different from me as black was to white. I never knew how to approach him, how to talk to him. No, but I had fallen head over heels for him.
He caught me looking one day, and gave me a polite smile. Trying to hide my embarrassment, I returned a bright, cheerful grin, as I had always had on my face those days. Yeah, I laughed a lot, joked around a lot, had so much fun.
I was on the school football and soccer team. Athletic, outgoing, extremely social.
He was on the school academic team and part of the honors program. Intelligent, sophisticated, entirely different.
The first few times I ever saw him, I didn't even take a second glance. Those times, he was just another person at the school.
I don't know just when I started staring at him, was unable to look away.
After the numerous times he caught me watching, I resolved not to pay him any more attention.
Hah, that ended well. My line of vision drifted right back in his direction even if for a split second. This continued for the rest of the majority of our school year, and I still didn't do anything about it. Didn't go up to him, didn't try to get to know him; I just didn't.
Before I knew it, only one month was left of school.
All I ever attempted occassionally was try to start up conversations with him once in a blue moon. I never knew what to say, and I didn't want to be the chatterbox and ramble on as I always do, for fear I'd scare him away. So after a few sentences, we'd grow silent, and I'd desperately looked for an excuse to leave as if it was no big deal.
I wished he'd ask something about me in return, show some interest in me. I really wanted to say more, ask more, but I was so afraid he'd find me weird and pushy.
So it only went back to me looking at him from time to time—or rather, all the time—and him giving me a small smile when he caught me, making me turn red and hot. Really, the first few times, maybe, but by now I really didn't have any excuse.
Summer came, and he graduated.
I went to the graduation ceremony, on the pretense that I'd be going for my few other friends who were a grade older than me. I was overly excited, and the night before, so many different scenarios popped up in my mind.
Maybe that day he would see me and come up to me.
Maybe I'd be gutsy enough to ask to hang out with him more.
Maybe he'd pull me to the side and tell me he's interested in me.
Maybe that day I'd confess to him.
Maybe then he'd let me hug him.
Maybe I'd be able to talk more with him.
Maybe he'd ask me somewhere after the ceremony.
Maybe he'd like me, too.
Maybe I'd tell him.
Maybe, he'd be mine.
Maybe…oh, maybe, please…
When I woke up the next morning, I was giddy with anticipation, hoping something would happen. Hoping I'd have the guts to tell him. If I didn't, I knew it would have been my last chance.
The ceremony came and went, but I was only able to see him three times.
The first, when he was walking inside the theatre. I was on the balls of my feet, shifting my weight back and forth, about to run over to him and just confess everything. He went inside.
The second, when he was up on stage, being handed his diploma. He looked so beautiful, with his prominent eyebrows and evidently green eyes. They were gleaming, so delighted to be graduating.
The third, and last, time I saw him, he was outside laughing and taking pictures with his family. A small boy jumped here and there, reaching for his cap, tugging at his gown, so happy for him. Was that his little brother?
So many people. How could I approach him? Me, a nobody?
I saw another blond guy, with shoulder-length hair and dressed in the cap and gown too, go up to him and start chatting so naturally. They seemed close. The guy clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. He looked irritated, but smiled nonetheless. It was their big day, finally graduated.
I should really have gone over to him.
I wasted too much time being scared. Afraid that he'd say, "Sorry, but I can't." Afraid that I wouldn't have another chance.
I didn't have another one, either way.
My friends patted me on the shoulder and said, "Ready, Alfred?" I looked at them, smiled, and said, "Yeah, of course! Whenever you are!"
No. I wasn't. Not ready. Not at all.
As they turned to walk back to our cars, I glanced back one last time. This time, he saw me. I grinned as brightly as I could, took a hand out of my pants pockets and waved.
He lifted his arm and waved back, smiling that beautiful smile of his.
I should have ran over to him and told him. I should have told him everything; how much I loved him, admired him, wished he'd give me a chance, don't turn me down just yet.
But instead, we stared at each other and time seemed to have stopped as I stuffed my hand back inside my pocket. I breathed in and smiled another time. The last time for him.
I mouthed, "Congratulations." Smile. Come on, smile. "Bye."
He waved another time, short and slow.
I should have just ran over to him.
I turned and jogged up to my friends, caught up with their conversation and joined in with fake laughs.
I'd hear news of him a few months later, a couple of years later.
Then I heard no more. All of us, my old friends, old teammates, we'd gone our separate ways, started a new chapter in our lives.
I was never able to forget him. I saw him in everything, was reminded of him by the slightest and smallest things.
I really should have asked him, with his stunning and mesmerizing green eyes.
I really should have told him, so handsome with his messy, blond hair.
That one, the one named Arthur Kirkland.
.
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Thank you for reading!