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I’m falling for you.
I didn’t realize it at first, but I truly am, right now, as I watch you do homework. You’re struggling with math, as usual, nervously asking me if you’re supposed to multiply there and chewing the end of your pencil.
A curtain of black hair obscures your deep brown eyes and I can’t help but lean closer, my hand pushing away the strands instead of pointing at the paper. I look at your face with wonder, struck by your soft features and gentle beauty every time.
Then you look at me, eyes wide.
I freeze, my hand hovering awkwardly by your ear as if it were red, caught in a crime.
“What is it, Hanazawa?” You ask me with trademark bluntness.
I mutter a small, bashful sound, clear my throat and retract my hand.
“Nothing,” my heavy tongue and numb lips mumble. “Just fixing your hair.”
You nod once, before looking back down at your paper and your resting lips form a smile.
That smile is small for some, but for me, it’s shining. Anything you do shines.
I lean back on the soft carpet, feeling the tension in my back, wishing for unattainables.
What are you thinking? What’s with the knowing smile upon your lips you wear when I’m around?
I wish I could tell. That little wish, if granted, could solve all my dilemmas. Then maybe, just maybe, I could tell you how I feel.
Every time I see your handsome, tanned face, my heart beats amok in my chest. Simple cliches I grew tired of seeing are suddenly happening to me because of you.
Every precious smile, joyful laugh, and warm touch, sends shivers up my spine, tears come to my eyes, and my throat threatens to choke itself.
I don’t understand the blooming, cold-hot rush of blood in my face when our eyes meet. I don’t understand the wave of rising hairs on my arms when you lean over to whisper a tiny, personal message. I don’t understand why the brush of your hand on mine makes me seize all movements in a second.
How do you view me, let alone feel? You are so forgiving to the point it’s incomprehensible, infuriating, incredible that you hold such a kindness in your heart and mind.
I believe you consider me friend rather than foe, but sadly just friend rather than lover.
Your hand moves to rest on my arm and I jump as if burned. I suppose I have been burned by this petal drowned emotion called love.
And you’re close, so close, emotionally, mentally and physically.
I’m so lost in my own thoughts, it takes me a moment to notice you leaning over, resting your arm on the seat of the couch comfortably.
I could reach up right now and pull down to kiss you, right on those pale pink lips. But I don’t have that confidence, and instead, I reach for your hand to loop our fingers together, hoping to help get this overboiling emotion across.
I whisper the words I wished I could say for the longest, looking away like a dog. I’d like to say I’m elegant with words, but the only thing graceful was the drop to failure and my sentence lost its structure.
I dare to look into your eyes and a clumsy ‘Please go out with me’ rushes past my lips with a wheeze.
The rest is up to you.
Silence hangs heavy, and in that I feel a wave of cold. Not frozen, not chilly, not icy, just cold settling into my gut.
A hundred worries and regrets flood my brain, looking up at you with your lips parted in an expression unknown. I turn my head away, the expanse of blue carpet stretching out in my vision, like the fool I am.
Shame, guilt, embarrassment, poorly described emotions spiked and dissipated, roaring and whispering like an unpolished orchestra.
Tears would come later, no matter the outcome, but it feels like they won’t be rolling down my smiling face with your response.
Silence hangs heavy, yet your breathy laugh lifts it away, if only for a moment.
The implication of misinterpretation as a joke made the psychogenic sickness repeat it’s symptoms. I steal a glance back at you, holding back my cries to get a clear look at a face I call friend for the last time.
Then you gaze into my eyes, lips softening. You lean closer, I lay there and my sickness fades. Very close, a whisper between. And whisper you do, a simple ‘Yes’ sparks the air.
You kiss me with loving endearment.
I’ve fallen for you.