Chapter 10: The Other Side of Unrequited

"So, no love for Henry!" Henry yelled at Rose. "No matter what he does, no matter how he treats her or her mother, no matter what he gives her! Nothing!"

The words echoed in my mind. Was I being forced to relive this moment, trapped in some purgatory dreamland? But wait, this wasn't my mind. No, I knew exactly who this was. Everything about her was familiar and I couldn't be sure if the tears in my eyes were mine or hers.

Rose knew what an unrequited crush felt like. Having a crush on your straight best friend was practically an unavoidable right of passage for queer kids. So she knew it sucked. It made you feel unwanted, unloved.

Exactly!

But Henry didn't realize that was exactly how she felt too.

Rose had always wanted a best friend. The whole friendship bracelets, tell each other everything, sleepover at each other's house, kinda situation. To be the most important person to someone else. To have someone choose you to be their companion for life's adventures.

But, you are my best friend, Rose.

Sure, she had friends. A few she may have told secrets to. But none of them really stood out as a best friend. In friend groups, Rose often felt like the outsider, like she could disappear and her friends would get along just fine without her. Like she didn't matter.

How anyone could ignore Rose was a mystery to me.

Of course, she was the world to her little brother. Growing up, he was the closest thing she had to a best friend, and she adored him.

I didn't have to be in her mind to know how much she missed Sage.

The hardest part about going to college was leaving Sage behind. Then she met Henry, and suddenly she felt important again. He wanted to know everything about her, and even in a large group, his attention was always focused on her. Of course, they rarely hung out with many people, preferring each other's company.

Thinking back on it now, how could she have not known he was in love with her?

Maybe she wanted to believe that she finally had a best friend. Maybe she was using Henry to replace her brother and the thought of a romantic relationship was the furthest thing from her mind, not because of her sexuality, but because she thought of Henry as her brother.

And now she was alone again. The boy she thought was her best friend had only been spending so much time with her because he was sexually attracted to her.

But, no. That's not fair. No, that was Stella, not me. I know you, Rose. And I love you. Yes, you're beautiful, but that's not all you are to me. You're also my best friend.

When boys (or girls) complain about being 'friendzoned,' they complain of being led on, acting as if they had been deceived into thinking their platonic relationship could turn romantic.

But Rose felt like she had been the one who had been deceived. She thought she was getting into a friendship, but now the free trial had expired and Henry was gone because she didn't want to pay.

And the saddest part was that Rose had finally felt like she belonged, like she was important and wanted. But all he wanted was her body.

But that's not true! I wanted to shout, but Rose couldn't hear me. I was just a visitor to her consciousness, a narrator to her story.

But what kind of story is it when the narrator is the conflict, and when the author knows the main character?

My eyes flashed open. This was my room. I was Henry Mills once more. Everything was a dream. But was it? Had I just returned from a supernatural experience, much like the ghosts that visited Scrooge?

I had momentarily ascended to the role of an omniscient narrator, only to be returned to my limited consciousness. I had a taste of my author power, but now I was back to being plain old Henry, a character in the story. The villain in the story.

But now I could speak. I could tell Rose what she meant to me. But would she even want to talk to me? Would she even believe me? Would I believe me, if I were in her shoes? I was in her shoes briefly, and I hated me.

I got out my phone and composed a text to Rose.

Hey I know you probably hate me right now, but I feel really bad and wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything.

Solid start.

Yeah, I like you, and I've liked you for a long time, but I also really enjoy having you as a friend, and I wish I could just go back to the way things were before,

I paused and then erased that second part. Because even though I loved hanging out with Rose much more than moping in my room alone, I didn't really want to the unrequited pining now that I knew I had absolutely no chance of being loved back. Before, there was always a little hope.

But what did I want exactly? What would be more painful: staying away from Rose, or being close, but never close enough? I wasn't sure. No, I was. I desperately wanted to be friends, but I needed to take a break from Rose for a bit to sort out my own emotions before I was ready for that.

I also really do like having you as a friend, but I think I need some space at the moment.

Then I erased that too, because that was just what she was afraid of, that once I knew she didn't want to date me, I would ditch her. Was I obligated to remain her friend? I didn't think so. If she wasn't obligated to do anything for me, then why would I be obligated to do anything for her? But now this sounds like I'm treating this friendship/relationship thing like a transaction, and that's not right either. I wanted to do the right thing, but I wasn't sure what that was.

I hit send, sending the message that just said I'm sorry. She read it. The dots appeared. And disappeared. Then they appeared again. And disappeared again.

I laughed to myself. Just like me, Rose didn't know what to write. I wished that the girl I was hopelessly in love with was someone other than her, and that the whiney boy she friendzoned was someone other than me. That way, we could talk and laugh about the situation, and get through it together.

But that wasn't the case. We weren't just telling each other stories. We were living the stories.