It was a love hate relationship they had, and not in the on/off sense. He loved her; always had, and she hated him, and swore to for the rest of eternity. Nobody could exactly pinpoint when it started, not exactly, but that's because nobody ever asked me. Not only could I have given you a year, possibly even a season, I could have given you a date, month, day, day of the week even, almost down to the second. It wasn't that hard actually. They were 15, it was the first day of semester, and they'd been away from each other for months.
It's not like they'd never seen each other before, no, they'd spent almost all year, for four years, together. They hung out with mainly the same people, interacted on a daily basis, but held no special sentimental value to each other. Nobody assumed the affect she would have on him that day in September, or the opposite affect he would have on her. If Isaac Newton had seen them, he would have jumped up and shouted EUREKA! Because they proved his 3rd law even better than the cradle named for him. She was the equal, yet opposite reaction to his action.
I guess I witnessed it more intensely than anybody could have guessed, nobody knew the way I felt about him, nobody could guess the almost familial way I related to him, I mean, what was I to him but a commonly acknowledged mortal enemy? It's not like we're best friends or anything, and not that I like him, but I'm just open-minded enough to look at him in the unbiased way nobody daubed me capable of. I know that we're both talented people, that we both care deeply about what's happening around us, that we can't just stand there and watch the world go by, and that we both put on the face of not being affected by the things that hit closest to home.
That's why nobody could have suspected that the day he decided to love her was the day that I decided to give up on her. I knew that we had no future together, even though she knew me hundreds of times better than she knew him, liked me exponentially more, and could have an actual conversation with me, without shouting at the top her lungs, and leaving the building. Maybe it's all those reasons that she could never think of me in any other way than a brother she never had, maybe it's not, but that's what I decided to convince myself.
I knew that I couldn't take the truth, that he was twice the man I'd ever be, that he could make her happy, even when she wanted with ever part of her being, to hate him, and that, with just one word against her passing through my lips, she would, almost willingly, give up on me. I knew from that first day he singled her out from every other girl at our school, that I no longer stood any chance, and doubted that I had in the first place.
I was fairly sure that the romantic aspect of our relationship was mostly (if not completely) all in my head, and once he stepped into the picture, I knew any chance I may have held was immediately eliminated. What did I have, up against him? He was the boy that everyone wanted to be like, the popular one, the funny one, the smart one, the handsome one, the cool one. Then there was me, the one people ignored, and if I made it into their train of thought, it was in the context "oh, I should wash my hair tonight, don't want to end up like him!" or "you see, I knew there was a reason I don't do my homework, look how far it gets him!". I could do no right, where he could do no wrong.
But back to them. Everyone watched their nightly rampages as some sort of spectacle, a show they put on for our benefits, rather than admit that they actually felt that way towards each other. Because everybody but them knew that the feelings they portrayed in their daily characters could not be true, somebody simply would not invest so much time and energy in somebody that they didn't care about, I mean, there was I reason I didn't talk to him, not just that it was some unspoken rule, I just didn't waste my time on people like him, people I had decided that summer, to be so far beneath myself in class and mentality.
Everyone assumed that, but they did not necessarily register these feelings. Sure, they laughed it off at the time, but that night when they were falling asleep they would smile to themselves and think, "once they get past this, they'll be amazing together". Not that anyone dared to say this to either of them, well, not her at least. She'd de-capatate you, if she was feeling gracious. Everybody assumed that she was so touchy about her affiliations with him because she was trying to keep up a charade, but after years of knowing her, I knew that wasn't the case.
At the time, she could honestly say that she hated him, hated him with every particle of her essence, and loathed him with an undying, burning passion. However, I knew that this would only last a matter of months, months possibly extending into years, but I knew a time would come where she returned his affections. I mentioned this to her, once upon a time, years before he started irking her beyond belief, when he simply annoyed her, and she gave me that death glare she's so infamous for. "I do not have feelings for him! He's just a guy, and a frustrating guy at that. Don't meddle in things you don't understand. Just don't." It's always been a touchy subject, but I'd rather it be touchy to the stony silence I get from her now.
It's the worst punishment I could imagine, to be hated by your best friend, especially when your best friend is your only friend. The people I'm with now aren't friends. They're hardly people anymore. They're just there, pay me no attention. She knows that I'm not like them, knows that even if I wanted to, I couldn't be like them; I have a heart where there have a cold, black stone. It's not like I disserve any better, though. No, I've pretty much planted myself here, painted myself into a corner, burnt all my bridges, and dug myself a nice little hole.
And now, two years after she stopped hating him, two years after he grew up, I get to watch them, watch them love each other. I knew I would see it, and I knew it would hurt me, but I guess I thought it would hurt less if I still held some control over her, if she cared enough to even pretend to listen to me while I told her that he hadn't actually changed, that he wasn't who she thought he was, knowing full well in my heart that it was a lie, to see if there was anything I could say to make her listen.
