This can be A/U. This can be between anyone that you can possibly think to fit. It has multiple possibilities.
Disclaimer: I really don't claim to own anything. As what I can I claim to own in this? This is not done for profit. Etc., etc., etc.
Day of Remorse
It was a beautiful day. The sun was beaming down upon all with its warm rays. Flowers were blooming, and bees were buzzing about with their business pollinating. There was a faint breeze and the sky was a nice, robin egg blue with white, puffy clouds scattered about.
Today was the last day of school for the summer. Everyone in sight on the school grounds was smiling and cheerily chatting with their friends. Excitement and anticipation were rolling off the students in almost palpable waves.
A male surveyed that scene from the front doors of the school, the corner of his lips lifting ever so slightly. Now was a time for rest and relaxation. It was time to worry less and partake in activities you weren't able to do while school was in progress.
He was about to set for home when a voice stopped him.
Someone had called his name.
He searched for the one who called his name to see one of his classmate striding towards him.
Coming to a stop in front of him, the girl smiled faintly. "Hey."
He nodded in reply.
"Glad it's summer break?"
"As much as I can be," he responded offhandedly.
Shaking her head at his supposed nonchalance, she revealed why she called out to him. "Anyway, I have something to give to you."
She held out something white, and he reflexively took it from her hold. Nodding slightly, the girl took a few steps backwards and opened her mouth to speak then closed it.
He watched as the girl seemed to be deliberating something, seemed to be having a mental battle with herself. There were times where it was rather apparent what that girl was thinking... and then there were times where she was inscrutable.
Her voice interrupted his musings. "I have to be going now."
Meeting her eyes, he nodded.
Before he could say anything, she chirped, "Well, bye!"
She turned around and trotted across the school grounds, through the school gates, and turned after the gate but not before looking back and waving at him.
Shaking his head slightly at the girl's mannerism, he looked to see what was clutched in his hands.
It was a piece of folded paper.
He was curious. Why would she give him a piece of paper? It wasn't like they exchanged letters on a common basis — they had no need to. Could it be that someone had asked her to give it to him? It had happened before, but she would have told him if someone (usually a girl) had given a note to her to give to him. Cocking his head to the side ever so slightly, he decided that must be it.
Warily, he unfolded the paper in case it was a love letter from a girl at school. Girls seemed to flock to him, and he really didn't see why. It was rather disconcerting (and maybe a little bizarre and nonsensical) in a way. Unfolding the paper to its full length, his eyes widened marginally. He recognized the penmanship. It was hers. So... it wasn't from a random girl trying to proclaim her undying love to him.
To One of the (If Not THE) Most Popular Males of the School -
That was always a standing joke of hers with him. He excelled in academics, athletics, and he was told that he was quite good-looking by many. Thus, it was certain with those attributes along with how shallow the world was today, he was given status as 'popular.'
We have known each other for a while.
Which was true. They had known each other for quite some time now. She had talked occasionally to him when they were younger, and that talking had led to a friendship forming. It also helped, if you wished to put it that way, that they were next door neighbors.
And so with the time we've spent together, I've realized something. Something that I wanted to say to you know. Before it's too late. Before I might regret, though I might regret what I'm about to do.
Confusion disrupted his train of thought. What was she talking about?
I didn't really know how to phrase this, so I put it into a poem of sorts.
A poem?
Glad, was I, to be your friend,
To be able to talk to you,
When to others,
You were a bit aloof.
Happy,
Was I,
To know you for so long,
To see you for so long.
Never,
Have I truly seen you,
For you never truly
Revealed yourself.
Though still was I delighted,
To see glimpses,
For then
You slowly trusted me.
But now,
I have to leave,
And so I have to say
What I kept hidden.
Deeply,
Do I care for you,
Cherish you,
Value our time together.
I love you.
Fare
Well
He was wrong. It was from a girl proclaiming her love to him. Only it was from someone he knew. Someone he knew quite well.
Or so he thought.
He was completely dumbfounded. Completely. Entirely. Absolutely. Needless to say, he never knew. Never even guessed. Nothing had ever hinted that she had loved him in any way other than platonically. Nothing at all.
Whenever a girl came up to him with hope in her eyes and she was there, she had just stood to the side, smiling ever so slightly, kindly with a hint of amusement. All the times he had received love letters, she had just teased him gently. Every time he sighed and made quiet comments on the almost rabid behavior of some girls, she just shook her head with a small smile.
But then again...
The more girls that approached him, the more he could notice an underlying sadness in her eyes underneath the gentleness and amusement. Her teasing became erratic with the increasing number of love letters he obtained, either being halfhearted or almost mocking. With every dissent of girls seemingly in love with him, an indescribable emotion flickered in her eyes for such a quick moment that he almost believed he never had seen it.
Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind. He — well, he, to put it simply, didn't know what to think. These new revelations threw his world around. Now, things were different — they weren't ever going to be the same. Because —
He realized that he really cared for her, too. In more than a platonic way. So that was why aggravation lanced through him when he noticed males speak to her in suggestive tones — or in a slightly more than friendly way. That was why he could never seem to be furious with her for a long time — or why he always felt better whenever she beamed at him in happiness or pride. His world almost seemed to revolve around her in a way.
And it seemed that he was a bit of a romantic.
And — what?
Leaving?
She was... leaving?
What?
Again, what?
Then slowly it came to him. She was, in fact, leaving. She was moving. Out of the country. And she was never coming back if the last two words of the poem signified anything. Those two words had a double meaning, and he knew it. It was meant as a goodbye with a hint of finality and that she hoped that he would be well... for the rest of his life. Without her.
But how could he be fine now that he knew? Now that he knew how she felt? Now that he know how he felt?
Everything he knew was merely a fabrication.
His world fell apart.
The single piece of white paper slipped from his grasp and drifted to the ground.