A/N: This was sitting in my head and it wouldn't go away, so here ya go… enjoy the fluffiness:)
We sit on your bedroom floor, surrounded by books, and paper, and all the other crap you've produced to try and make me pass math, and I wonder if you know I love you. You explain some problem or other, and I get distracted by the way your eyes move over the paper, and lose concentration, and your careful workings turn into incomprehensible mush.
I sit back, frustrated, and run a hand through my hair.
"Ugh, I'm never gonna get this," I say. "Come on, let's do something fun."
You just laugh at me.
"Come on, Maureen," you say, and you grin and put your hand over mine, guiding my pen over the paper, solving the problem.
"See, told you you could do it," you tell me, still laughing, and I wonder if you know I've still got tingles shooting up my arm from your hand on mine.
We stay in your room for hours, until finally I get it. I finish a problem myself, and practically throw the book at you in triumph. You grin at me, and I melt inside, and wonder if I'm concealing it well enough. You don't seem to notice, and I wonder if you're really clueless, or just trying to spare my feelings.
I wonder if I have any sort of chance with you… but Collins, you're my best friend. I would never want to lose that, so I can't tell you how I feel.
I hate this.
We're lying on the school field, playing with random blades of grass. You've got a study period, and I've got math class, and I wonder what you're thinking about – it must be important, because you know my timetable better than I do, and you haven't once told me to go to class.
I even let myself think that this is it – that you're going to tell me you love me, and kiss me right here on the field, and we'll live happily ever after. And then you jerk me out of my daydream.
"Maureen?"
"Yeah?"
"Uh… can I tell you something?"
This is it, I think. You're going to tell me…
"Promise you won't… freak out or anything?"
Oh my God. You actually do like me. I think I'm about to explode in anticipation, and I wonder why you would ever think I'd be freaked out by anything you could ever do…
"I'm gay," you say.
Shit.
We both end up dateless on prom night, you because you're still mostly in the closet and me because I just broke up with Jesse Curtis. Awful timing, but really, he was moving way too fast. And when you're dating me, that's saying something.
You agree to come with me, as friends, and I wonder how you can still be so damn clueless. It would almost be better if you just told me you know, and it freaks you out, and you never want to see me again. But no, you want to go to prom with me.
It's almost a dream come true, except for the fact that we're going as friends. Stupid damn concept.
We get ready at your house, and you wear something tidy for once in your life, and you look stunning.
For once I'm not trying to impress anyone. You're the only one I want to impress, and you're not interested and never will be. So for once I'm wearing a dress with a full-length skirt – and actually, I like it.
I come out of the bathroom, and you just stare at me for a second or two, then you bow, and kiss my hand. God, you're adorable.
"You look beautiful," you tell me, and I wonder if you know that you saying that means more to me than all the attention any boyfriend has ever given me.
We dance together, but not as close as I want to. I wonder if you're actually enjoying yourself, holding a girl you're not even remotely attracted to, and then you grin at me, and I forget everything except the look in your eyes.
The prom's almost over, and you lead me outside, onto the balcony of the posh building the school somehow managed to afford.
I wonder if you're suddenly miraculously straight, or if you've decided you're bisexual, and I desperately hope that you've brought me here to tell me you love me… and then I remember how clueless you are.
"Maureen…" you start off, then you stop, searching for the right words. And I know from the way you're looking at me, that you know I love you. I move away from you, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable.
"Sorry," I mutter.
And you take a step closer to me, and your lips touch mine in the sweetest, softest kiss I've ever known.
And I don't wonder if you're suddenly attracted to me, or if you're straight, or any of that. I just know that this is your way of telling me that it's okay.
"I thought you were gay," I say, and you laugh softly.
"I am," you murmur, and you take my hand, and we leave together.
And I know now that you love me. Not romantically, not in any of the ways I've been dreaming about for the past year – but you love me, and I know that that's the one thing I will never have to wonder about.
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