How It Ends
By. Tate Icasa
I.
She knew, always, that he loved her.
That he probably still did, but he never once brought it up.
He knew that it could never work, coming frome where they did. He knew also that had he asked, their freindship would alve held, albeit shakily.
But he never asked, and she loved him for it.
II.
She could have had him anytime after the eighth grade and she knew it.
Crook your finder at me, dear, and I'll follow you. (1)
Where had she heard that before?
In a book, a long time ago. A book she'd forgotten.
Funny that she remembered it now, while thinking of him.
III.
She knew it hurt him to stay platonic. In the begining anyway.
As it seemed to everyone who saw them, he had gotten ove rit long ago and forgotten. But she knew better.
Though he'd never tell anyone, he loved her still.
And she would carry the burden of his unspoken love forever.
IV.
He kept a hard exterior, a hard resolve.
He hid behind a smakescreen of stupid jokes and childish amusement so he'd never get hurt.
But she knew him too well.
His firm resolve was beginning to crumble, and she could see it.
V.
She fell ill that winder. She became chilled, her face pale, eyes dim.
He came to visit her often, and when he was her there was pain in his eyes.
She'd smile weakly, and get up and walk with him, because she hated that look.
It tolder her that he was breaking.
And she didn't want to witness that.
He was too strong to break for someone like her.
He was too smart, too good to break for her.
He could have lead her in circles anyday.
She didn't need him to break and yet he was.
Crook your finger at me, dear, and I'll follow you.
There was that line again.
The things she remembered when she was with him.
VI.
Spring came and they went walking again.
It began to rain, and they crawled under a bread tree to avoid getting wet.
"This seems so familiar." She said, leaning back against the tree.
"I remember." He said. "We wehre here before."
She knew then that he was finished. He was going to break, and she didn't want to watch.
"Come here." She requested, motioning.
He moved closer and she pulled him to her.
"I remember." She whispered. She kissed his forehead. "I remember sleeping here. The school gates had closed. I was cold, so I slept in your arms. And we weren't even friends yet."
He looked up at her.
"Odd," She said quietly, needing to hear him say it. Forcing him to break even though it broke her heart. "Do you love me?"
He refused to answer her, and walked out into the rain. She watched him walk away, unable to distinguish rain and tears on his face.
VII.
She kept a tenative distance from him, and they didn't speak for the next few days.
She sat on a bench in the park, staring at the sky.
He sat down next to her. "Yes." He said.
"What?" She asked.
"You asked if I loved you. The answer is yes."
She smiled. "I know." She said casually. "So, your place or mine?" (2)
He stared at her for a second. Then he laughed. "I have a better idea."
He pointed to a low, broad tree, not ten feet away, and she smiled.
AN:
1. That line is not from an actual book, it is a product of my imagination.
2. Should I write a fourth story, a lemon, to continue from this thought?