When I wrote this, I wrote it fast. It was by far one of the easiest things that I have ever written. I had to get it out. Hope you enjoy.
Of course I don't own them, the show, or anything that looks like them or the show. I do own a lot of student loans in case anyone wants them...no? That's what I thought.
You watch, constantly.
You watch her even when you know you shouldn't. A causal glance through the peephole when you hear noises outside. You watch her being physical with the neanderthals that she brings home and toys with, wishing it was you who had her pressed up against the wall. You who was tasting her skin, you whose hands were discovering the secrets of her body.
You watch her every Tuesday. You changed your schedule to make sure you had her undivided attention at least one day a week. The fact that she always gets your order wrong is irrelevant. You know that she leaves that tomato on your plate simply to bother you, unless she is mad. When she is mad at you she makes sure that there are tomatoes all over the plate, even on your fries. You never once complained.
You watch her face, her oh so expressive face. Concentration, happiness, sadness, it doesn't matter. You watch it all out of the corner of your eyes.
You listen, constantly.
You listen to her complain about work. Long hours on her feet in a menial job do make for some interesting stories, even if you will never admit it. You believe half of her joy is forcing you to listen to her.
You listen to her joy. How she is so exuberant about the smallest things. Her excitement when she goes on auditions, determined that this is the break she is looking for.
You listen to her problems be they big or small. Her problems about how to make rent, how she can't find that special someone. How she doesn't know why her life isn't the way she thought it would be. How she can't decide if she wants to relax or go out for the night. You revel these circumstances, because she asks for your opinion then. She wants to know what you have to say, and at these times you try your hardest to treat her just like you would anyone else.
You touch, when you can.
She sits beside you on the couch, occasionally you let your leg touch hers. It means nothing to her but everything to you. You live for the times when she accidentally brushes her hand against your thigh when she gets up, even if you make her apologize for it.
When you hand her things you allow your hands to touch. She thinks nothing of it, just par for the course when something is given to someone. You savor it. It is the only time that you can touch her without anyone being the wiser. She has no clue that you don't allow anyone, even your mother, this treatment.
You hug her rarely, and it's not nearly as much as you want to. You hug her when she gives you that napkin, that wonderful napkin. It was beyond thoughtful, beyond friendship for her to do that for you. A hug was certainly necessary. You were amazed at how soft her skin was, how her body curved into yours just right. How perfect it felt. You didn't want to let go. You didn't let go until her posture indicated that she wanted you to pull back. You hug her so rarely because you are certain that the next time will be the time that you don't let go.
You don't tell her.
You don't tell her because it wouldn't make any difference. All it would do is make her feel bad that she doesn't feel the same way. You don't want that. You don't want her to be uncomfortable around you anymore than she is.
You would rather have her friendship than nothing at all.
You don't tell her because of Leonard, your first friend. He is so enamored of her, and it would break his heart if there was a slim chance of her returning your feelings. He is the one person on this planet that isn't related to you that puts up with you on a daily basis. No matter what they say you know how to be a friend, and you are a good friend too.
You don't tell her because you know that you can't be what she wants. You have never been good at expressing your feelings, they make you uncomfortable. When your genius was being nurtured somehow the person got lost. You never learned how to deal with the human side of life, it's why you cling to what is known instead of unknown. Your mysophobia is such that even though you want to touch her, want to hold her, just the thought of being intimate with her sends you straight into the shower for a twenty minute scrub down. She is a physical person who has physical needs. Just hugging her is as far as you can go without a panic attack.
You will never be what she wants, what she needs. So all you do is watch, listen, and barely touch her when you think no one is looking. You do all this because that's all you can give. It's all that she will accept from you.
You will keep doing it for as long as she lets you.