A/N: Hello! The chapter is so short, and it really shouldn't have taken almost two weeks (maybe more?) to write. My bad. Not much to say today…next chapter, I think, will make me more talkative. I wonder what could be happening? Hmm…Anyways, keep reading, enjoying, and reviewing!
Some things stay the same. Like the way she talks. That's the same. It doesn't change, but the way I hear her does. When she talks, the wind carries her words, sending them crashing somewhere beyond my ears where they break apart into a million pieces; pieces which land in my head, trickle down my throat, and spread like a delayed explosion, wreaking havoc at each spot they touch.
The way she smiles is the same. It doesn't change, but the way I feel it does. Her smile is no longer just a visual experience. It takes on a different dimension, another facet. Each time her lips quirk up, I'm engulfed in this metaphysical wave of goodness. I'd drown in it if it weren't for the fact that each time she smiles, I feel like it's easier to breathe.
The way she is remains the same. She doesn't change, but I do. I'm altered so completely that the mirror reflects someone I don't know. Someone that I shouldn't get to know. Someone that I am, and someone I am not. Someone who she brought out, who she created. Someone who is a familiar stranger.
Each day, though, I look at this stranger in passing. Sometimes he's brighter. Like he's taken some of her light for his own. And sometimes he's tired. Like the weight of his feelings is too heavy for him to carry. But he's happy. He's brighter, he's tired, and he's happy.
I wait for her to notice this impostor, but she doesn't. She doesn't notice, and by Saturday, I'm convinced I can do this. I can like her in secret. I can like her freely without her finding out. I can be by her side and pine for her in private. And I can be happy doing so.
But just because she doesn't notice, it doesn't mean that no one else does. I find that out when Chad comes over unexpectedly in the evening. I can tell somethings up with him. His quietness seems hesitant. It's like he wants to say something, but he doesn't think he should.
I invite him up to my room. I take the bed while he takes my chair. It's silent, and I think he wants me to speak first.
I sigh as I run my fingers through my hair.
"What gave me away?"
See, that's the thing about Chad. People assume that Chad is just naturally reserved, maybe even shy, but really, he's observant. Which is why I asked the question that I did. Because I know that he knows. He spotted the impostor.
He smiles a bit like he's trying to figure out how to answer me.
"It was the way you looked at her," he explains.
I nod. "I've been staring at her more, right?" That makes sense. Despite my efforts to keep them away, my eyes kept going back to her.
He shakes his head. "The opposite. You've been looking at her less."
I frown.
"It was like you were consciously making the effort to not look in her direction. That's how I knew."
I give a curt laugh. "Damned if I look at her too much, and damned if I don't." I rub my forehead with the heel of my hand. "I couldn't even last a week," I say to myself.
"If it makes you feel any better, I think you've hid your feelings from yourself for a while now."
I stare hard at him. "What are you talking about?"
"…"
"Chad," I stress.
He shrugs his shoulders. "Are you going to tell her?"
I know he ignored my question, but his question has my full attention. For now, at least.
"I'm not."
It's his turn to frown.
"Why?"
"Because being friends with her…it's the only guarantee that I'll always be able to be by her side."
Although my response is honest, he appears to not like it.
"Will you really be satisfied with just being her friend?"
"Yeah."
"You're lying," he quietly accuses.
I feel myself glaring. "I'm not. As long as she's in my life, I can be happy."
"You can be happy," he agrees. I relax a bit. "But you won't be." I tense up.
"I appreciate your concern, Chad, but you can't tell me how I feel," I snap.
It's back to being quiet.
"You're right. It's not my place." He stands up, and I instantly feel like an ass. "I just want you to be happy." That feeling grows.
I rub my neck. "You worry too much. I'll be fine."
His frown deepens. "Fine is not the same as happy."
"I'm pretty sure they are synmonous," I joke. He doesn't crack a smile. "Look, I'll be happy as long as she's happy."
He flinches. What I just said, it's not what he wants to hear. "You know, she's happy when you're happy," he says.
"I know," I say quietly. "And I'm happy. Really." I try to persuade him that I am, but each time I say it, it's like he believes me less and less.
He leaves soon after that, but his doubt remains in the room. Doubt if I can truly be happy with the arrangement I've made for myself. Doubt that completely makes my conviction wither piece-by-piece.
And I hate how easily influenced I am by his skepticism. Because now I'm wondering if he's right. I mean, for the last few days, I've been happy, but could I maintain this level of content? It'll all depend on how long I like her for, and if the duration is short, I could do it. I could be happy.
But I have this feeling that I'll like her for a long time because this is not a crush. What I'm feeling for her doesn't feel temporary or brief. It's not infatuation. It's more than that. And that's the problem. Can I really, truly be happy as I harbor these feelings for her indefinitely?
I want to believe that I can. I really do, but the next morning when I get ready for the festival, I pass the mirror, and the familiar stranger is tired. He's tired, and maybe tomorrow he'll be bright again, but today, he's tired. So tired.
.
.
.
And I can't tell if he's happy.