I wonder if anyone remembers this story I started writing on FFQ. It got some good reviews, so I figured I would finish it, not just for you, but for myself as well.
Ten Steps to Freedom, Renamed.
A Resurrected Tale from the Days of Old.
Just Like How We Used To Be.
Prologue:
I first saw him when I lived up north, five hours away from civilization.
I was new to the town, and the first thing I saw was the sparkling lake.
The second was him.
He was walking to the store to buy a newspaper, and he happened to walk by my new house... It was over 20 degrees outside, and his clothing baffled me. Heavy pants and a heavy sweater.
I was honestly baffled. How could anyone stand to wear that out here? I thought to myself.
My gaze followed his amazing face, and when he passed me, the hint of his figure beneath his clothes. He turned his head slightly, and noticed my eyes on his backside.
I blushed furiously, looked away, and picked my fifth box off the truck, running into my house.
I finished lugging my boxes inside within 3 minutes, and I sprawled out onto the lawn.
I let the tickle of the soft grass poke the back of my neck, and I switched on my Game Boy.
5 minutes later, a shadow was cast over my Game boy, blocking the sunlight.
About to make a sarcastic remark, I jumped to my feet and whirled around.
Ending up face to face with him.
I sputtered out a small "Hey" and he gave me a blank stare from behind his glasses. I was mesmerized by his eyes instantaneously.
"Its nice to see someone around here is smart."
With that, he walked off my lawn, and into the house next to mine.
I was 12 years old, and I had fallen in love.
Something or other, this is our story.
Days went by, and the summer days grew shorter by the second.
He would be going off to high school in September, and I, to grade eight.
We hung around each other often, playing video games, reading comics, being geeky at times.
The usual kid stuff.
Every day, I grew fonder of him.
I would go home, thinking about what we would do tomorrow, and I always hoped we would go swimming.
To this day, he has yet to go in the water with me.
I always had hoped he liked me. I tried dropping hints, but it failed.
Sometimes, I thought I could tell him, but the words got lost somewhere between my heart and my throat.
They might've taken a wrong turn and ended up in my nose.
He already new, though. Our greeting and goodbye's were a cuddly hug. I would wrap my arms around his neck, and rest my head somewhere between his chest and shoulder, while he rested his hands on my waist. Sometimes, these ended with me smiling, sometimes with a wave goodbye, and once with a "you guys look like you're about to kiss!"
School came around, at last, but we still saw each other. Our time may have been limited, due to school hours and homework, but I didn't care.
Our families were friends for awhile, so we had dinner at each others houses occasionally. I always would sit next to him, or as close as I could get without my mother glaring at me.
One specific night, it was me and him, alone in front of a computer. His friend had tried to persuade him into kissing me. Of course, he said no. Very bluntly.
I left that night with a pride boosted, and he went to bed with a kiss on his cheek. I had succeeded slightly in my quest, and startled him slightly.
We kept seeing each other, on and off, never dating of course, but having this small, special bond, that was shared with laughter, and horrid beatings in Super Smash Brothers.
My biggest regret with him is not inviting him to my 13th birthday party.
It was about two friends, and some family.
My mother, being the goob that she is, asked if he would like to come. When he showed up, I was ecstatic, upset, and surprised.
Ecstatic, because he was there on my birthday.
Upset, because I felt rotten that I had forgotten to ask him earlier that day if he wanted to drop by for cake and stuff of that sort.
Surprised, because he actually came. For about an hour, he, two friends and I sat around my kitchen table, scarfing cake and throwing jokes around, and one tremendously funny word came up.
Splooge.
Forever, I became lost in my thoughts of him.
When doing normal things, like getting dressed, doing homework, reading books, I thought of him.
I remember walking into my door once, forgetting to turn the knob, because I was distracted by my thoughts of him, yet again.
People called me infatuated, blinded by a silly crush.
I laughed all of their comments away, but really, I cried inside. No matter what I did, I couldn't brush away my feelings.
The odd flutter in my stomach when I thought of him. The smile I had when I was with him, and the feeling I got when I heard his voice. These things, I couldn't shake off.
And I knew there was no denying the facts.
I...loved him.
Everything got so hard.
Nothing made sense to me after awhile.
I tried to find out if he liked me, if there was anything in his mind for me.
Years went by, and countless times I told him that I loved him.
Every time, I was brushed off. All he would say was "Yeah, I know." Or "You tell me that every time"
He started hating me. I wanted him to hold me, and he wanted to push me out of his life. So I told myself, "Do not give up! Whatever you...do not lose hold of the one pure thing there is in this world."
So I tried.
Years later, he confessed to me. Words I thought I would never hear.
He told me; "stop going away"
"I do love you..."
"I'll probably hate myself if I ever hate you again."
"I... do love you. Sleep well."
"I really want to care for you."
Those words made me lighter than air! I could have died then and I would be happy, but I'm sure he wouldn't.
Every day when I returned to my computer and logged into chat, the first person to message me was him. And with every message he sent, I got a little more happy.
Then...
Something happened.
My happiness was dissolved, and he revealed he didn't love me anymore.
My world broke up around me, and I crashed, so hard. I couldn't even think, except for the thought, "I screwed up..."
After that conversation, I curled up into a small ball, and I cried. I cried so hard, but I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter, he didn't matter, and I could survive.
Can I?
Can I possibly survive with you still there, still kicking me out, still tormenting me?
Can I survive without your warm embrace?
So this is the ending to this short story, and he is still around, still glaring at me through his chat name.
Hating me and wanting me gone, just like how we used to be.
