Boundless
People are always asking her why she remains friends with him. It's an answer not easily explained, as he is one of the most complex characters she's ever known. To the outside world he's an unapproachable introvert, a public jerk, an all around unappealing package. And in many aspects, he has been that even to her. However, there is much more to him than what the spectators see, and those are the things she struggles to voice.
On the first day of grade school he offers her his friendship and she accepts with a slight question in her eyes. Her hands, almost as small now as they were then, wrap around his in a sort of cautious embrace. She decides then that he is safe; despite the stern look he gives everyone aside from her. They sit together at lunchtime and there is never a lack of conversation, save for the moments when she talks to someone else. It is not out of jealousy that he doesn't speak, but out of fear. In his household he does not speak unless he is spoken to, and that is a rare occurrence in itself. At five years old he stands on his own with only one dependent factor, and that is her.
The friends of childhood have disappeared. Gone are the days where everyone associated with one another without any kind of clique standing in the way. They are in middle school at this point, and she stands beside him proudly. There are still others she talks to on a regular basis, but no one she can relate to on the same level as she can with him. They shoot curious glances in her direction as she walks down the hallway with him, ushering him to his locker and then to class without a hint of shame. He is more aware of himself than he's ever been, shuffling around in a body that is far too awkward to be his, his nose always buried in some book. She knows this and does what she can to rid him of his sudden consciousness, but it is of little use. He shuts her off if she dares to tread the subject, muttering some new expletive he has learned in defense. With a sigh and a nod she relents, leaving him to his moods. He always apologizes and she always forgives him, because it is his custom to sort things out for himself before he can ask her for any kind of input. She is much of the opposite, opting instead to run to him as soon as any problem arises. Somehow, he has always had a solution.
High school comes and goes in a blur and yet the consistency of their friendship remains, much to the surprise of many of their peers. They don't see him the way she does. They don't see him as vulnerable; they see him as a threat. He is the outsider, the kid that stands apart from the crowd and is okay with that. And by now, he is. He has grown into his own skin, into his looks. With dark hair and dark eyes, the hooded sweatshirts he wears as a seeming rite of passage, the impartial glance he gives anyone that isn't her, he is the epitome of brooding. To her, he stands apart for different reasons. He listens to her confessions of liking the boy she knows has a bad reputation, of her own insecurities, of the things she wants to do but feels she can never accomplish. He listens with attentive ears and an eager gaze. He never chides her for it, but at the same time he gives her an honest opinion, something she cannot find from any of her other friends. He is her confidant and she is his-his sole confidant, she knows.
And while the rest of them look on with confusion and disgust, she can only smile. They have their perceptions of him, and they want some sort of explanation from her as to why she is so close to him despite the fact that he is obviously an outsider. What they don't know, what they don't understand is that he is the one person who knows her wholly. He knows her without boundaries, he knows her through her faults, he knows her despite their arguments, despite his defense mechanisms. He knows her without question and loves her as she is-without any kind of compromise or pretense.
This, above all else is why she remains friends with him.
People are always asking her why she remains friends with him. It's an answer not easily explained, as he is one of the most complex characters she's ever known. To the outside world he's an unapproachable introvert, a public jerk, an all around unappealing package. And in many aspects, he has been that even to her. However, there is much more to him than what the spectators see, and those are the things she struggles to voice.
On the first day of grade school he offers her his friendship and she accepts with a slight question in her eyes. Her hands, almost as small now as they were then, wrap around his in a sort of cautious embrace. She decides then that he is safe; despite the stern look he gives everyone aside from her. They sit together at lunchtime and there is never a lack of conversation, save for the moments when she talks to someone else. It is not out of jealousy that he doesn't speak, but out of fear. In his household he does not speak unless he is spoken to, and that is a rare occurrence in itself. At five years old he stands on his own with only one dependent factor, and that is her.
The friends of childhood have disappeared. Gone are the days where everyone associated with one another without any kind of clique standing in the way. They are in middle school at this point, and she stands beside him proudly. There are still others she talks to on a regular basis, but no one she can relate to on the same level as she can with him. They shoot curious glances in her direction as she walks down the hallway with him, ushering him to his locker and then to class without a hint of shame. He is more aware of himself than he's ever been, shuffling around in a body that is far too awkward to be his, his nose always buried in some book. She knows this and does what she can to rid him of his sudden consciousness, but it is of little use. He shuts her off if she dares to tread the subject, muttering some new expletive he has learned in defense. With a sigh and a nod she relents, leaving him to his moods. He always apologizes and she always forgives him, because it is his custom to sort things out for himself before he can ask her for any kind of input. She is much of the opposite, opting instead to run to him as soon as any problem arises. Somehow, he has always had a solution.
High school comes and goes in a blur and yet the consistency of their friendship remains, much to the surprise of many of their peers. They don't see him the way she does. They don't see him as vulnerable; they see him as a threat. He is the outsider, the kid that stands apart from the crowd and is okay with that. And by now, he is. He has grown into his own skin, into his looks. With dark hair and dark eyes, the hooded sweatshirts he wears as a seeming rite of passage, the impartial glance he gives anyone that isn't her, he is the epitome of brooding. To her, he stands apart for different reasons. He listens to her confessions of liking the boy she knows has a bad reputation, of her own insecurities, of the things she wants to do but feels she can never accomplish. He listens with attentive ears and an eager gaze. He never chides her for it, but at the same time he gives her an honest opinion, something she cannot find from any of her other friends. He is her confidant and she is his-his sole confidant, she knows.
And while the rest of them look on with confusion and disgust, she can only smile. They have their perceptions of him, and they want some sort of explanation from her as to why she is so close to him despite the fact that he is obviously an outsider. What they don't know, what they don't understand is that he is the one person who knows her wholly. He knows her without boundaries, he knows her through her faults, he knows her despite their arguments, despite his defense mechanisms. He knows her without question and loves her as she is-without any kind of compromise or pretense.
This, above all else is why she remains friends with him.