Truth.

"I hate movement for it displaces lines,

And never do I weep and never do I laugh."

~"Beauty", by: Charles Baudelaire.

x-x-x-x

You're one to talk, out of breath. She doesn't love you, and I may never come back.

Would you miss me if I were to walk out of your life forever? Or would I become a memory of a time long ago, when you used to be close to someone? Someone who wanted to be close to you, unlike her? She runs away from you, fast. As she should.

And yet, I'm still standing here foolishly, hoping you'll notice what's in front of you. Dying for the moment the truth sets in. Can I even remember when I first began to love you? Not so sure, friend, maybe from the word go. We met and it was two kindred souls finding one another.

The one negative thing I'll ever admit to thinking about you is this: you're woefully dense when it comes to understanding people. You thought when you met me that our similarities, our way of getting along, our enthusiasm for being together, that it was best suited for friendship, not a partnership of a different sort.

Oh love, won't you ever learn?

Author's Note: This is a scrap I'm considering writing a longer one-shot for. I know who the pairing is, and you are free to guess. I love reviews, subtle hint.