When you look at him, it scares you. Scares you because the feelings that you carry round with you, that you could not imagine being stronger, heighten; more rapidly than your heart rate. It scares you; you are not to feel something so strong being so young. You look forward to Head's meetings not to make changes in the school, but to be in his company; you seek reasons for the meeting to last longer so that you can converse, look, be with him a little longer. You feel like you are floating on air, high in the sky on a beautiful summer's day. The conversation is effortless, and you love learning more about him; not just the things he tells you, but learning his habits, what his mannerisms mean. And when your heart erases the logic from your brain, you remember the night when you two got drunk on fire whisky. How it started with play fighting, the feeling of him being pressed up against you, trying to pretend that you wanted him off you. Then ended with meaningful conversation about death, where you opened up about losing your parents in the summer, with you in his arms whilst he comforted you.
And as this all crosses your mind when you look pass his glasses to his eyes and you smile whilst greeting him, your brain reminds you that you are not the only two there; despite how everything in your peripheral vision has become dull and unimportant. Your friend Mary is standing next to you and his girlfriend is standing, too closely, next to him. And as your eyes quickly glance over the intertwined hands, you feel like the sunny summer's day has turned into a storm; and you are plummeting to the ground, with the thunder masking your screams.
So you get the next meeting time out of your throat before it closes, say your goodbye and walk off with Mary. And when you feel that you are not in the same corridor as him anymore, you finally look into the eyes of your friend, who stares back with painful understanding. That look breaks down the barrier you have around your heart when you see him with her, and you let it out. You freak out a little with blasphemy that would make a nun pale. You hid your face in your hands as she holds you. You swear profanities about his girlfriend, how much you hate the charismatic girl. When really it is yourself you hate. For falling for someone who you could not have, for putting him through years of this; and for karma biting you severely in your arse.