I can do this. I can go up to him and just . . .
What? Tell him the truth? Tell him that I love him? Tell him I've been in love for the past 3 years?
Or I could say nothing and be his friend. . . . Like I've been for the last three years . . .
Looking out to the water, one would never really look twice at the boy standing at the water's edge. One would fail to notice the sadness that tinges his eyes and makes his body seem older than its 17 years are capable of.
He probably wouldn't even listen to me. It's not like he does now. All he does is talk about her over and over again. Damn it, why can't he . . . why can't he . . . let her go. Stop talking about her like if she was his.
The boy drags his hand through his hair and down his face in aggravation or worry, no one can tell from a distance but it's a telling sign that something is amiss.
Maybe, just maybe, he might get over her. Maybe he'll realize that she's not paying attention to him, he'll have to give up and maybe pigs will fly . . . . Ugh this is disgusting. Being in love with someone who doesn't love you sucks but being a guy who's in love with another guy, well that sucks even more.
He stands there letting the surf roll over his feet as the wind ruffles his hair, thinking on the boy that he fell in love with so long ago and the men that they are becoming. It's hard for him to think that he may lose his love but more than anything the friendship that they've built since they were both kids. He turns his head to look back at the sand and rocks that they've been in and around, the secrets that they've told each other, the countless hours spent together even with her tagging along, it was always the two of them for him.
It's not going to go away. I can't keep tormenting myself with the 'what if's and the 'maybe's . It's either now or never . . .
With that last thought, the young man turns away from the water and walks back to the fallen palm tree to wait as he usually does knowing that Sora's always late.