The Beautiful Letdown

I can't help but look as they hold hands. I try to keep the wince from my face but I'm sure it shows a little. I'm glad for the dark that hides the longing I know is in my eyes.

He makes a joke and I know I laugh harder than necessary, but everyone is used to me laughing like that at his jokes and no one takes any notice. I can't help it if he's funny. I turn my head away again. I make more excuses than is reasonable to turn my head in their direction. Every time I do they sit closer, hold hands tighter, look sweeter. I restrain the frown that wants to form on my face.

He asks me a question and I try to resist the dopey grin spreading over my face when he speaks to me. They release each other's hands for a moment as he reaches for something. I can't help but track his hand until it is held once more. I flick my eyes away again.

I look steadily away for all of two minutes before my eyes wander back to see them leaning together, heads close eyes bright even facing away from one another. I resist the urge to call his attention to me through the telling of an unnecessary story. I feel my friend shift beside me and yank my gaze away from the contemplation of his face, lest she discover what I'm doing.

I smile as all of us stand up and they separate for a moment. He comes back and they stand close together I keep my gaze on his face as he speaks. The moment he turns away it flickers down to see their fingers twined together. I stop the grimace a moment too late. He doesn't see it but I'm sure they both know it's there, no matter how much he denies any such knowledge to himself.

He turns his head to talk to another friend and I see the necklace tucked under his shirt. I saw it once and wondered at its significance. I'm not privy to that knowledge. Though I'm sure his beloved knows at least part of the story.

I laugh at the retelling of one of their stories. I've not heard this one but my heart aches at the thought of their private moments and the jokes they share. They both sing a few lines from a song they know. I remain silent as I watch him sing. He smiles slightly as I laugh but looks to his other side. Their hands are clasped again.

I remember last year before they began dating. We used to talk for hours on end about anything and everything. I remember the one time I held his hand. I remember when I liked him but didn't realise how much. I remember how for a while we spoke less but remained good friends.

I remember when I found out they'd started dating. I didn't think much of it just then. I remember when I noticed how it bothered me. How my eyes would wander to their hands. How I always looked at them from the corner of my eye when they sit together.

We eat lunch together and I can't help the pathetic flutter of happiness when they sit slightly apart. They are terribly cute together. I exchange an eye role with a friend as he laughs but I know I cast another longing glance his way when they stop.

I regret telling him I liked him last year. Before I knew how much I liked him. I know it scared him slightly. I'm certain he liked me at least a little bit then.

I can't help but think that he could be the one for me, a foolish thought at my age. For all I know they won't make it to next year.

He's all the things I could want in another. He's a ridiculously nice person. Not that I've never seen him be mean. We all have our petty moments, but he makes even those seem alright. Maybe it's how he couldn't bear to insult someone properly no matter how little he likes them.

They say your partner should make you laugh. I've never spent any amount of time with him and not laughed at least once. So many people find his humour annoying or bizarre but I love it.

He's beautiful, so few people see it though. I know I'm one of very few to have noticed. I've seen him without his glasses upon occasion it makes his face look smaller somehow, but no less beautiful.

I love the things he's interested in though many of them are new to me. Never once has he said he loves something that I didn't either love already or love immediately afterwards. Friends have told me that maybe I'm just making myself love them to have more things in common with him. I'm sure they're wrong. I know myself and I know the things I like and dislike. I like the things he does.

There are times when they are together that the weight in my chest is heavy enough to bring to make me close my eyes as it passes. I sit beside them often and wonder if I do it to torture myself. It's often that they end up shoving each other playfully. Soon he'd be leaning in my space and I'd move side for fear of getting hit by a flailing limb of sorts. Part of me wants to tell him every time I see him but the rest of me knows that I would rather have his friendship then be nothing to him.

I can't help it if he's perfect. It's not my fault that he's everything I've ever wanted. The person I've dreamed I could spend the rest of my life with. It's hardly my fault that he's the best person I know.

But it's not her fault either. It's not her fault he chose her over me. It's not her fault and I don't wish to blame her. She's too nice to blame, and from what I can see she makes him too happy for me to hate her.

But that doesn't stop me from wanting to glare before I smile at her in greeting. That doesn't stop me from wanting to shun her and speak looking only into his eyes. It doesn't stop me from frowning as I see him leaning against her from the corner of my eye. It doesn't stop the small part of me that would give anything for him to break it off between them.

There are moments when everything seems bright. When I think that even if I never get him doesn't mean that I can't have someone I'll love. Someone that I could love as much as I know I could love him had I the chance to love him.

There are more moments though that I look at them together and I'm so jealous of what she has. When I look at her and am unable to believe she appreciates him as much as I do from the outside.

He deserves to be appreciated. He is the best man I know. I hope she knows that as well. If she doesn't then I hope she learns soon. He deserves the best and a part of me knows that that isn't me. A part of me knows that there are pieces of me that he would find difficult to accept.

I don't think I'll ever be able to look at him without stuttering at his beauty. Or grinning before he delivers the punch line of the joke. Or frowning when he holds a hand that isn't mine. But I'll try if it makes him happy.

If she makes him happy then I'll do my best to frown only when they can't see it. I'll do my best to be out of their sight before I clench my fists in frustration. I'll remember to smile at her more and at him less. If she makes him happy I'll sit beside them and dodge the flailing elbows. I'll sit beside them and maybe my eyes will wander less over their clasped hands maybe I'll be able to think of them without frowning first.

As it is, for now, I'll keep it to myself as much as I can. I'll laugh a bit too hard at his jokes, take a moment too long to smile at her in greeting and let my smile linger too long on his in farewell. My eyes will linger over their entwined fingers a moment and I'll glance their way too many times when they sit together.

She will see me looking as she quietly reaches for his hand and for a moment she'll stutter and he'll have to reach the last half an inch.

It's not my fault he's perfect. But it's not his fault I'm not perfect enough for him.

If only I could convince myself of that.

A/N: I got the title from the Switchfoot song. I tried to make this as open as I could. You can make them any two people and the she any person, you could even ignore the genders I placed and mix the whole thing up. Anyways I hope you liked it.

DerangedxandxSarcastic