It’s funny how you can be so close to someone, share everything with them, and then suddenly it feels like they’re a million miles away. I never thought he. Eliot, of all people, could make me feel so small. But here I am, sitting in class, staring at the back of his head, and all I want is for him to turn around and say something, anything. I want him to notice me again like he used to.
But he doesn’t.
Sometimes, I’ll sit in the library, pretending to do homework, just hoping maybe he’ll show up. Maybe he’ll come back. But I know he won’t. I can see him from across the room, laughing with Oliver, their heads bent close together over some stupid project, and I wonder why I even bother. I’ll catch myself staring at them, my hands clenched into fists so tight my nails dig into my palms, and I think, Why can’t you just leave him alone?
But I don’t mean it. I don’t want them to stop talking. I don’t want them to stop hanging out. I just want to be there too. I want to be the one who gets that smile, the one who gets to see the way his eyes light up when he’s excited about something. I want to be the person he leans on, the one who knows him better than anyone else.
I used to be that person.
The worst part is, I’m the one who’s still waiting. Like some stupid fool.
I keep thinking if I just say something, just tell him what I’m feeling, maybe he’ll understand. Maybe it’ll all make sense, and he’ll remember how things used to be. But then I freeze up.
I don’t know what I’m scared of more: him not feeling the same way, or him feeling the same way and ruining everything. I don’t even know what I want. Do I want things to go back to the way they were? Or do I want something else? Something… more?
I’m not ready to admit it to myself, but maybe I’ve known for a long time what I want. Maybe I’ve known that the reason I’ve been pushing him away is because I’m scared. Scared that if I tell him, if I really tell him, it’ll change everything and it already feels like everything is slipping away.
Sometimes I wonder if he can tell. If Eliot knows. But then I see the way he talks to Oliver, the way he smiles at him, and I know. I know he doesn’t.
And I’m just stuck here, in this place where the air is thick and heavy and every step I take feels like I’m walking through mud.
I want to scream at him, tell him everything. But I can’t. I don’t even know how to start. So I sit here, trying not to drown in my own feelings, pretending like I’m fine, pretending like I’m not torn apart by the simplest things. Like seeing him happy. Like seeing him smile at someone else.
Because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this.
And maybe I never will.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyUhsAc03rP
