I remember the first time I saw her. Gray eyes. Brown hair. A smile that lit up her face. Her hands were in her pockets, as I remember, and she was laughing at something he was saying to her. Some joke, some funny story. Something that was just between the two of them. I knew, right then and there. I'd never find another girl like this one. No one else would ever give me broken hearts and butterflies. Not like she did. Head over heels, in an instant. Don't believe in love at first sight? I'm proof that it's real. I know that it happens. But love at first sight doesn't always mean that there will be a happy ending.
I was in love. She wasn't. And that made all the difference.
She let me talk to her, sometimes. She let me make her laugh. She let me take her hand, let me tell her she was beautiful. She even let me kiss her. I don't think she knew what she was doing to me - that every word, every syllable that left her lips made me fall deeper in love with her. Every sideways glance took another piece of my heart into her keeping.
Even now, I can remember her. I can see her face in my mind when I close my eyes to sleep. I can remember what she was wearing that night, the night she let me touch her. Hold her. I tried to tell her with actions how much I loved her. My words just weren't sufficient. They were clumsy and ugly, tumbling out one after the other without pause for sense in between. She laughed at my words. So I tried to show her how I loved her, how she had held my heart in her small hands since that very first day outside Tibby's.
I don't know if she understood.
Everyone had us pegged for marriage. "They's gonna be da foist. They's a suah t'ing." So, one day, I asked her. I saw the hesitation in her eyes, hesitation that I don't think even she noticed. I had seen it weeks before, months before. I saw it in her eyes when I whispered "I love you", and I saw it when I slipped the ring on her finger. But I was selfish, and I let myself be blinded by my love for her. They say that if you love someone, you have to let them go, and if they don't come back, they were never yours to begin with.
She wouldn't have come back.
So I never let her go.
We survived together, somehow. I was almost happy. I thought that I could love enough for the both of us. I used to tell her stories, tell her jokes to make her laugh. Even after all those years, the thing that still took my breath away was the light in her eyes when she laughed. She still gave me broken hearts and butterflies. Even after the light went out.
We gave her a nice funeral, I like to think. It was raining. The city looked grayer than ever under the downpour. As I walked home, I realized that I hadn't cried. Funny thing for a man so in love to do. Funny thing. I remember standing in the doorway to our bedroom, staring at the quilt she had sewn as a bedcover, and I realized something else.
True love isn't always reciprocal.
And that's when the tears finally came.
AN: I wrote this to save myself from the terrible cuteness that is "sealed with a kiss" sob oh how it huts me!!! Anyway - its vaguely adapted from another story I wrote...lemme know what you think, okay? :)
I was in love. She wasn't. And that made all the difference.
She let me talk to her, sometimes. She let me make her laugh. She let me take her hand, let me tell her she was beautiful. She even let me kiss her. I don't think she knew what she was doing to me - that every word, every syllable that left her lips made me fall deeper in love with her. Every sideways glance took another piece of my heart into her keeping.
Even now, I can remember her. I can see her face in my mind when I close my eyes to sleep. I can remember what she was wearing that night, the night she let me touch her. Hold her. I tried to tell her with actions how much I loved her. My words just weren't sufficient. They were clumsy and ugly, tumbling out one after the other without pause for sense in between. She laughed at my words. So I tried to show her how I loved her, how she had held my heart in her small hands since that very first day outside Tibby's.
I don't know if she understood.
Everyone had us pegged for marriage. "They's gonna be da foist. They's a suah t'ing." So, one day, I asked her. I saw the hesitation in her eyes, hesitation that I don't think even she noticed. I had seen it weeks before, months before. I saw it in her eyes when I whispered "I love you", and I saw it when I slipped the ring on her finger. But I was selfish, and I let myself be blinded by my love for her. They say that if you love someone, you have to let them go, and if they don't come back, they were never yours to begin with.
She wouldn't have come back.
So I never let her go.
We survived together, somehow. I was almost happy. I thought that I could love enough for the both of us. I used to tell her stories, tell her jokes to make her laugh. Even after all those years, the thing that still took my breath away was the light in her eyes when she laughed. She still gave me broken hearts and butterflies. Even after the light went out.
We gave her a nice funeral, I like to think. It was raining. The city looked grayer than ever under the downpour. As I walked home, I realized that I hadn't cried. Funny thing for a man so in love to do. Funny thing. I remember standing in the doorway to our bedroom, staring at the quilt she had sewn as a bedcover, and I realized something else.
True love isn't always reciprocal.
And that's when the tears finally came.
AN: I wrote this to save myself from the terrible cuteness that is "sealed with a kiss" sob oh how it huts me!!! Anyway - its vaguely adapted from another story I wrote...lemme know what you think, okay? :)