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There is a suspicious gravity in the space between us. Whenever I turn my head, there's always you in my vision, like a landmark my gaze comes home to.
Outside the classroom, the familiar rasp of your barely-used voice tickles my ears. Sometimes the sound ushers me to troubled, yet good dreams.
The shampoo you use, the detergent you wash your clothes in. Without me noticing, I could tell if that was you in the assembly hall three rows behind me.
It is as if space bent on purpose to bring you to me, to remind me of an ache I ignore. But I'm an inarticulate guy. I could never tell you about the little pictures of you I've sketched in my textbook, the accents I've picked up in your laugh, nor the familiar tangents of your bed hair.
Not to be creepy, but I tried that banana milk drink you always sip at lunch. It's not my type, but I guess it's alright. I figured your mouth must taste like that overly sweet thing.
Last month, you and I got grouped up with a girl whose name I spotted in your notebook. The whole class thinks of you as shy sunshine boy, but I'm the only one who knows why you stutter when she looks at you, and why you agree to everything she says.
"So dumb," I carelessly spoke then. Her gaze darted to me, sharp and disapproving. She was blushing too, huddled next to you. The ache in me became a heavy thing. You froze, caught because of me.
I left the group meeting, but maybe I should've stayed. The others clamored in excitement the following days, eager to witness the couple forming. With you in it. You who is too timid to even raise your hand in class. Scatterbrained you who can't even remember to bring your homework sometimes. You who always looked away and smiled gently when thanking me.
You, getting a girlfriend.
What a fucking joke.
A month after that, you and her became official. For once you manned up, asked her to be yours on the prom dance floor. The heavy thing grew cold, numbing me from inside.
But the gravity remained, cruelly keeping me in place, always orbiting around you. Always fixated on you and the fact that your pretty smiles were for someone who was just as cute as you. You two don't suit each other, always blushing and tiptoeing around each other, always laughing and sitting so close, always looking so blissful in your own world. The cold thing in me sunk deeper, and I've felt nauseous since.
Then one day she had to call in sick. Lots of kids were because of the constant rain. You took shelter by the entrance, worry etched on your soft features as you watched the grey skies pour. I played with the idea of standing next to you without mentioning my umbrella. I could keep you to myself for a few minutes, just until the rain stopped.
You checked your phone, your other hand anxiously clutching the strap of your bag. Without thinking, I stepped up and shoved the folded umbrella to you. You jump, startled as you looked up to me. I might be a little sick myself, because I saw you move in slow motion.
The gravity pulled harder, drawing me. I felt bolted, made to fall for you. Time slowed, each second twice longer than my heartbeat. Holding you in place by your shoulders, I swooped down and caught your lips with my own. The sick thing in me seemed to whistle hot then burst, covering me in electric goo, unravelling like red ribbons clawing on my arms, my back, my neck. My cheeks burned and I groaned in my throat, feeling good for the first time in my life.
"Get away from me!"
There was the faint feeling of you squirming to get me off, then one stinging slap on the cheek that finally woke me up. Your gentle expression dissolved, replaced with shock and loathing for me. In my dreams, your reddened lips were always framed by a brilliant smile, not betrayed eyes like this.
The ribbons turned to thorns digging into my skin, and I felt choked as I forced out a dry chuckle. "Was just showing you how to make out, little guy. Never know when you might get lucky."
Oh what am I doing?
"I never asked for your help," he grit out, wiping his mouth with the cuff of his sweater. His little chest heaved. He looked like he was going to cry.
"Yeah, but you got with your girlfriend because of me." I said back, clenching my jaws. The thorns dug deeper. I felt suffocated. "You should thank me." I added.
He pushed the umbrella to my chest. Hard and painful, refusing to look at me. Without another word, he ran out into the rain, past the school gates and out to the street. The umbrella fell on the damp tiles with a loud thwack, rolling a little to nudge my shoe. I stared at it, long until I felt all feeling seep out of my body.
I could still remember his softness, the little trembles of his shoulder while I kissed him. His face, his scent when I'm so close. I willed all those images away, wrenching myself out of that treacherous gravity field, the attraction that only I was vulnerable to.
The umbrella left untouched, I stepped into the rain myself. Tiny droplets, one by one, details only I knew about, soaking me until I drowned on my own.