One last thing before I see You. The very last thing, the only piece of doubt. I have to clear it up before I do anything else.
What do I feel for my very best friend?
The school bell rings. It's time for lunch. As we're filing out of the classroom door, toward the cafeteria, I tug on his sleeve and we head the other way, toward the library. This is our secret place. It's not as though anyone else goes there, anyway.
In the very back, we crouch down and he whispers, "What's wrong?"
"I have to ask you something, and you have to answer honestly."
"Anything for you," he promises, and he looks so serious that I smile.
"Do you," my voice breaks, and I recover, "do you love me differently than other friends?"
There is a long, drawn out moment of utter panic. "Why would you ask that?"
I sigh, and sit back all the way, leaning against the shelves. "Because that's how I am. You're different."
I watch with interest as he blushes. "I-I love you, for real. Like boyfriend and girlfriend."
I think for a while, and then shake my head. "That's not it, then. I already love someone like that."
The happy glow disappears faster than it came as he turns white as snow. There is a palpable feeling of despair as he opens his mouth, swallows painfully, and then says, "Who?" almost cheerfully - if it wasn't for the threatening tears.
"Him." And all he does is nod, refusing to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"
He laughs, but it's more of a sob. "I'll be okay. But," now he stared at me earnestly, "can't you at least try to see me in that kind of way?"
I shake my head, feeling horrible but determined. "I'm sorry."
He nods to himself. "Have you told him yet?"
"I'll tell Him today, once I get home."
"And he'll accept it?"
Don't show my misgivings. "Yes. He has to, doesn't He?"
There is an expression of terror on his face, but it leaves before he says, "Of course he does." His hand comes up to his hair, a sign of discomfort. "But if he doesn't," he says slowly, carefully, "if he doesn't, will you try to think of me like that?"
I shake my head again, and whisper, "I couldn't do that to you. You deserve better than to be a silver medal."
He lowers his head, and I can hear the sniffles. After a few minutes, I draw him closer, and hold him as the shoulder of my uniform is soaked.
The bell rings. We both stand up, as he rubs his eyes, turning them bright red. Everyone will know.
"We can still be friends, can't we?" I ask, dreading the answer.
He blinks, and I'm afraid that he'll start to cry again. "Always. I'm not going to lose both my special someone and my best friend in one day." At the entrance of the library, he puts his hand on my shoulders and turns me to face him. I am reminded instantly of the romantic stick figures, and my face gets hot.
His lips press into my forehead. I can't breathe. "I hope you find happiness."
We go back to class, hand in hand.
I made him cry. But then, so have You. Just look at how similar we are.
But why can't I breathe yet? Why does my chest hurt so much?
It doesn't matter. You'll make it better after school today.
Oh god, oh god, oh god. I'm so mean. I'm going to update in a week. Because I'm evil, and I want to draw it out at least a little bit. Not like Akito's Love, when I posted the last three chapters on the same day. In a week, it's His turn. Yes. ...I feel so dirty...
