This is my first story ever, and I'd love it if you guys could review and tell me how it is. I'm not much of a romance writer, but this idea was lingering around in my head for some reason. Thanks for reading!
It had seemed so easy in the beginning. They spent all of their free time together. Everything that they did was happy. The sun was brighter, the grass greener, and the skies bluer. They had been worried that their friendship was at risk, but one they started it seemed like they would never end. All of those repressed feelings, unrequited longings, fervent desires; all of them were out in the open. Those around them couldn't help but bask in the glow of bliss. The songs of summer were replaced on the radio by the songs of winter, but the warmth of earlier times never left. Their bond was infinite; their love intense. Halloween saw a zombie and his new victim; Christmas brought snuggling by the fire. New Year's Eve and the turning of Father Time brought giggles and resolutions to rededicate themselves to their love, but how could they rededicate their efforts when it was so complete to start? Valentine's Day was a magical day of hugs and kisses, and as Spring bounded into view and brought agonizing vacations apart from each other. While everyone else relaxed and slept in, they stayed up all night, their faces illuminated by laptop screens. At the end of the week, they returned to home, to friends, but more importantly to each other. They embraced, and told each other how much they missed each other. He held her and looked into her eyes and told her that he loved her, and she said the same to him.
It was the first lie she told him.
There had been a boy. Two years older than her; dashing and mysterious. They had nothing more than a little fling, but that wasn't what changed things. She suddenly felt differently about love. She felt as if her eyes had been opened. For weeks, she was unsure of her status. Whereas she used to hate leaving him, now she dreaded long moments with him. His dear doting was now uncomfortable and awkward. She had a new lease on life, and he was holding her down.
He didn't know what was wrong. She had been avoiding him for a few days. He left her voicemail after voicemail. Asked her friends. Came around to her house. He couldn't find her. Finally, after what seemed like a thousand years, he found her.
It's not working, she told him. We were always better friends she says as his face falls. He asks her if she is sure about this. She says that she is. Sadly, he says that if she wants this he only wants her to be happy. A quick embrace, an awkward smile, and she is gone.
It is raining. No matter how hard Mother Nature tries the rain won't end. The clouds are puffy and swollen, and it is hours before they calm down and the torrent stops. He sits on the balcony, alone, in what was their spot. He can remember the first time they came up here. He vaguely remembers a meteor shower, but all he can think about are how blue her eyes were, azure orbs of mystery. How her hair glowed in the moonlight. How well her small hands fit in his bigger hands. The electricity of her touch, of her kisses. But most of all he remembers the infinite love they shared. How preposterous it was that they could even consider leaving. That night, under the stars, wrapped around his one true love, he felt peace. Now the sky was gray; no stars shone brightly. He still loved her.
She was home alone. Cleaning her closet she came across a photo album. She saw the zombie's bite, the reindeer headband, and the half-eaten box of chocolates. She pushed it to the side, but putting too much force behind it sends it under the dresser. She doesn't notice.
He thinks about her all the time. When he passes her he hopes to see that smile he had cherished. He longs for the opportunity to talk to her, to try and rekindle what they once had. But most of all he wants to be with the one he loves. But she has moved on, unaware that she has broken him in a way that can't be fixed. Yet he waits. He waits for her to return.
She never does.
And the rain continues.