You walked through the door and I saw you. You looked perfect, even to a thirteen year old. I saw you and you perfect black hair, it fell down your back teasing the sun with its shine. I thought it would out shine the sun, making the radiant sun jealous of its dark sheen. Your skin was so pale and flawless; it looked smooth like, porcelain. Not the damaged stuff we had, but the stuff that the rich people have. Things that you put away and use once in a while, taking them out to show guests who are impressed, especially with the patterns of blue houses on them. I wanted to touch your lips, a pale rose pink. So much like the roses my friend sold, half dead but radiant. Only you looked like life embodied.

Of course when I was thirteen I wasn't very eloquent, I just thought you looked pretty. These thoughts have been compiled after three years of standing in awe of you and watching you.

I remember the first time you talked to me I was so embarrassed because I had spilled soup all over my self. You had handed me a napkin and said something like "It happens ta us all." I can't remember because I was so nervous and ended up spilling water on my self.

I stopped being so nervous around you when I caught you as you tripped. You laughed and gave me a hug.

Then we became friends. I never let you know that I was attracted in the least to you. Never told you as I would walk with you as you were drunk that I wanted to take you into the alley and kiss you. Never told you when I would see you playing blackjack and the lamp light would reflect off your hair that I wanted to come up behind you and kiss you.

I hated seeing you with any one else. I hated knowing that they would break up with you. I hated knowing you could do better. I hated knowing you weren't with me.

Then you started dating Spot. You seemed even more beautiful as he would grab you around the waist and pull you down on his lap, laughing as you stole something of his. Then he would come more and more often, and you would stop doing things when he was there.

I remember once as I was falling asleep next to you and you brushed a curl off of my fore head. Your fingers were cool on my forehead and I wanted more. I wanted you to lean down and kiss me, whispering that you loved me all a long and that Spot was nothing, I was everything that mattered. It didn't.

Two days later you came in with a black eye. You sat with me on my bunk and told me it was nothing. You flinched when I tried to touch it. I knew something was wrong. You haven't ever tripped since we were thirteen. You said you fell.

I asked you what happened, you laughed and pushed me lightly "Mush you idiot I fell." You smiled even though I could see you about to cry.

The next day you decided not to play blackjack. You could beat us all at the game. You'd made even Racetrack need to go begging for money after losing it all.

A week later you moved to Brooklyn.

Then you came back three months later for a visit, you looked hassled and down trod. Spot no longer laughed around you and you didn't laugh either. You looked horrible, you had a few bruises and a few cuts on your cheeks surrounding the ugly purple splotches.

I tried to touch you but you moved away from me.

I tried to reach out.

Then you left with him again.

I almost fell in love…

…But I caught myself.

Disclaimer: I own Blackjack Disney owns Spot and Mush (Who narrates ye old story)

Author's Notes: Okay inspired by a line I read about Catching your self some where and the line "I almost fell in love, but I caught my self" formed its self in my head. And then I thought of Brooklyn (My story about Domestic Abuse, not to be confused with Keza's Brilliant work Brooklyn: One Rainy Day and its sequel Brooklyn: Mortals) and how I had a romance with Mush and Blackjack. (This is in the third chapter, written but not posted) And decided it would work with those two.

Cards on:

Alphabetizing- GO MILLER GO! Um yeah that's it…