It was today I realized I was invisible. Who was I to think a girl like that would ever be interested in me? We'd been friends for six years now, and, ironically, I fell for her sister. It wasn't until recently I realized I fell in love with her the day I met her. But it was too late. Today I decided the feeling would never be mutual.
I saw her… kissing Maurice… of all people.
Surprisingly enough, I didn't splurge much at dinner. My favorite, Mom's pot roast, but still, the sight of me lifting my fork was scarce. Yeah, I had lost a considerably large amount of weight over the past four years, but my eating habits never changed. When I was upset, I'd usually eat a lot more than usual, but tonight was different; I hardly ate anything. That meant something seriously had to be wrong with me. Was I getting sick? Yes. Goodness, yes. Hopelessly, madly lovesick.
I jumped onto my bed, belly-side, and buried my face in my pillow. This was my bed, but it still didn't feel like home. My real bed was wherever the KND (now TND) headquarters was. The TND was my home, it was where my heart lied. Along with something else, which I didn't want to think about.
I exhaled a long, irritated groan and threw my brown cap on the floor, running my hands through my unruly auburn hair. Being a teenager was frustrating. Being a teenaged nerd was more than difficult. And being a teenaged, nerdy Hoagie Gilligan was just impossible.
I flipped over on my back and pushed my yellow-tinted goggles up to my forehead, so I could view my surroundings in true color. Model airplanes hung from the ceiling, surrounded by photo luminescent stars. The walls were lacquered a dark blue, painted long before I knew her, before I knew it was her favorite color. At that I closed my eyes, trying not to think about her, and how she was the light of my entire world, the color of my soul, the blood that ran through my veins. But I really didn't want to stop. It was these joyous thoughts that overwhelmed me all the time, in hopes she would one day see she gave my metaphorical flower sunlight. Until today, at least.
I glanced at the clock in hopes it would be late enough to have at a failed attempt at sleep. 10: 52. Close enough for me.
I took off my goggles completely (which very few people knew were my prescription glasses) and layed them on my nightstand. I let my sky blue button up (which I never buttoned) fall to the floor and I kicked off my brownish pants. After pu;;ing off my white socks and t-shirt, I stood in front of my mirror in only my boxers, which were imprinted with the British aviation symbol (once, I dropped my books in the hallway and my bending over must have revealed them since Wally immediately asked if I was a The Who fan).
I had been going to the gym some with Wally the past few weeks (He'd been spending a lot of time there, something about overhearing Kuki talking about liking guys with big arms to protect her. The poor kids, still oblivious to their feelings… Will they ever learn?) and I was actually surprised to see results. I wasn't deathly thin and I definitely was not fat. I stared agape when I flexed my arm to find rock hard muscle (and not a bag of pudding!). My middle was also looking healthy, what looked like the beginning of a six-pack. I released a bewildered chuckle and gave a lop-sided grin to my reflection. When it came down to it, I guess I never realized how… not repulsing I was. I mean, I suppose I was okay-looking. Semi-athletic body, bright blue eyes, 5'11", nice smile (hey, where'd I get those dimples?). Too bad my personality was so unlikeable, or I'm sure at least one girl would want to date me. I was a geek, simple as that. Smart, socially awkward, I told awful jokes (I still thought they were funny….). I was undateable. And I could never get that girl, that girl of my dreams, that damned beautiful girl.
I flopped onto my bed unenthusiastically, got under the covers, and turned my light out. I closed my eyes, wishing everytime I did, I didn't have to see her face. It hurt, yet healed. It scorned, yet soothed. Man, women were just trouble. They ruined my life, but made it livable. Damn her beauty and grace. Damn Maurice… Damn my cowardice!
Maybe tomorrow I'd tell her. Did she really need to know? Would it even matter to her? She was my best friend, after all… she wouldn't purposely hurt me. At least, I didn't think so. Let's see, what would I have to lose? My dignity (comes with rejection), my best friend (would she get THAT mad?), my pants and my teeth if Maurice found out (would he really do that or was I overreacting?), my lunch if I got nervous (vomit really screams "I love you, let me be your boyfriend", right?), and, most of all, my chances at having kids one day (after being nut-checked by Wally for letting her get away, because he'd been persistent lately on urging me to ask her out. "Ya just go togetha perfectlay," he'd say).
That would be a lot to lose in one day… And God knows I value my pants staying in my body in a public place. (A/N: Pantsing is hazing, kids! Don't do it! Everytime you do it, Nigel will kill a puppy! Nigel: "WHAT? Why would I waste my time killing a puppy? That's absurd!" Me: "Shut your face, this is Hoagie's story time! SHHHHHH!") Maybe I wouldn't tell her just yet.
My last thought before losing consciousness was: My life would be so much easier if I were a black guy…
A/N: Okay, my first fic! The first chap is kinda short, sorry. But there will be more to come. Sorry if I disappointed. :'( r&r please. -Zimmy Oh and Codename: Kids Next Door is NOT mine. It's Mr. Warburton's. If it were mine, I'd totally jizz my pants though. :D
