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I sit on the couch crying. I know I shouldn’t, not in the living room at least, but I can’t hold it.
It’s not Good’s fault, or even totally my stupid feeling’s fault. Really, it’s just the breaking point. I’ve had a lot of issues recently, like the whole thing with my parents.
The problem with Good is that I’m uncertain about... well everything. Our whole relationship. Friendship. Whatever.
I don’t think he could like me. I don’t really think that he can like anyone, at least not romantically. He just doesn’t seem to have a heart. And if he does, why would he waste it on me? I’m just some random mortal that he’s best friends with (sometimes I wonder how that'd even happened). He’s a literal angel that fell from the heavens, even if he acts more like a demon that crawled out of hell. Sometimes it seems like he just keeps me around because I amuse him or something like that.
I hear the door open and panic. Good isn’t supposed to see me crying. He can’t. I turn my body away from him.
Good quickly spots me and calls out, “Hello Jef.” He notices that I’m crying because of course he does. “Why are you crying?” And he asks too because Good’s a nosy angel. Or maybe he cares. Well if he does care maybe he should care less. Or maybe care more.
I ignore him and just turn farther away.
“Did something happen? Don’t be so dramatic. I’m sure you’re fine,”
I continue to cry. Now he’s getting angry. Maybe he doesn’t care. Maybe he just doesn’t like crying mortals in his living room.
“Stop crying and tell me what happened! I don’t like it when you cry!” In what way does he mean that? “Just tell me what happened!”
I wipe my tears on my sleeve. “It’s nothing really,” I say.
“Don’t lie to me. If it were nothing, then you wouldn’t be crying. Did somebody hurt you? I’ll kill them,” Good says threateningly. I let out a wet chuckle. The only people that have hurt me right now are my parents and Good himself, and I don’t want any of them dead.
“No it’s not anything like that,” I say, sniffing. “Its- I-” I can’t get the words out. That’s probably for the best. Professing my love small infatuation to Good in our living room couch while crying would be pretty lame.
I’m so glad Good doesn’t have mind reading powers like some angels. If he knew what was going on in my head, I might be dead by now.
Good’s eyes narrow. “Is it something to do with me?”
I stiffen. How does he know? Maybe he does have mind reading powers.
I know that if I stay, Good will get the answer out of me, so I get up, walk briskly to my room, and lock the door before Good can ask anything else.
I’m not an idiot. Jef stiffened when I asked if it had to do with me. And then he walked away. Clearly it is about me.
So is it my fault he’s crying? What did I do? I mean, I’ve done many things that might make him cry, but he’s never cried before and what specifically made him cry this time?
I know I shouldn’t really care that it’s my fault he’s crying. After all, he’s just a mere mortal. A cute one, but still just a mortal. I’ve probably made many people cry before, but I’ve never cared. Even if it were one of my other friends, I wouldn’t care that much. I might feel a little guilty, of course, because who would want to make their friend cry, but my reaction wouldn't be this. It wouldn't be anything like what I was feeling right now.
Do I like him? Like in a more than a friend way? No. I can’t. I can’t have fallen for a mortal. But what else could it be? Why do I care about him so much? Perhaps I have fallen for him... harder than when I fell from the heavens.
But right now, it doesn’t seem like he likes me very much. Because apparently I made him cry somehow. I realize that I should probably talk to him and find out what’s happened. I walk towards his door and gently knock on it.
Why did I react like that? And then just walk away? That was so stupid of me. I should have said it was something to do with my parents. He already knows a little bit about the situation and probably wouldn’t have asked any other questions. And even if he did, at least it wouldn’t have ruined our friendship. I strongly implied that it’s his fault that I’m crying, and he’s not an idiot. He’s going to think that he did something wrong. And he didn’t. It’s not his fault I’m in love with I like him. He’s going to question me and I’m going to have to tell him the truth, which will definitely ruin our friendship and also there’s no way he likes me like that.
But if I don’t tell him the truth, I have to come up with a convincing lie. I could say that everything he’s done has upset me and with his most recent prank I’ve gotten so upset I don’t want to be friends with him, but I don’t want to make him sad. I don’t want to upset him. I never want to upset him. But maybe he wouldn't even care.
If I don’t do anything and just pretend this never happened, Good will still question me and I’ll just be back at square one. He won’t stop until he gets an answer, I know that for sure. He’s really nosy and persistent.
I hear a knock on the door. I’m so shocked that I freeze and stop crying. I didn’t think he would come to check on me so quickly.
“I’ll break down the door if you don’t let me in,” I hear Good threaten and I know he can and will if I don’t open the door.
I stand up on shaking legs, take a deep breath to steady myself, and walk towards the door.
The door opens and I walk in.
“Jef, what happened?” I ask. “What did I do?”
He avoids my gaze. “Sit on the bed and I’ll explain,”
We both sit on the bed and I look at Jef expectedly.
“It’s really nothing. I don’t know why I said it was your fault. We really have to go now. We need to make dinner,” he says, getting up from the bed.
I grab his arm in a death grip. No way he’s getting out of this that easily. He said he’d explain, so he better.
“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happened. Dinner can wait,”
He takes a deep breath. “Good, I’d just like to say that it’s not really your fault, okay. It’s mostly because of my parents’ situation. It’s just- I guess I kind of reached a breaking point because of you? But like it’s not really your fault at all if that makes sense?” Jef says, staring at the bedsheet.
“That doesn’t make sense at all,” I say. What is he on about?
“Good, I have something to tell you.” Now he faces me directly. ”I know I probably shouldn’t feel this way and it’s pretty stupid, but I kinda like you. As more than a friend. I know, I’m an idiot and you don’t feel the same way. That’s what made me reach my breaking point. I just couldn’t handle this along with everything else I guess. Good, don’t feel bad about rejecting me. I’m already expecting it anyway,” Jef says, sighing as he lets everything out.
I’m stunned by everything he says. He likes me? Like he like likes me? How? I’m mean to him and everyone else. How can he like me? He’s too good for me. Why does he like me?
I stay there in shocked silence. Jef tries to get up but I pull him back.
Good pulls me back and I brace myself for the worst, looking away from him, my eyes closed. So I’m shocked, to say the least, when he pulls me onto his lap.
I’m facing him with his wings wrapped around both of us.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop crying? It looks bad on you,” he says softly, softer than I'd ever heard him, softer than I thought he could be. Then he pulls me closer until our faces are mere inches apart.
His face is so close to mine. Does he like me? He didn’t answer the question.
Then he kisses me. All my thoughts are pushed to the back of my brain. His lips are soft on mine. I try to melt into the kiss but Good pulls away.
“Does this mean we’re a thing?” I ask.
“I guess so,” he says and pink tints his face. I realize after a second that he’s blushing because of me. I made him blush!
“Then can I kiss you again?” I ask.
“No, get away from me!” he says, but I can tell he doesn’t mean it from how tightly he’s still holding me.
“Admit it, you like me,” I say, smirking.
“No way! I’m never saying that,” he exclaims. “That’s so… sappy.”
“Then I’ll sit on you,” I threaten.
I push him on the bed and lie on top of him. Then I kiss him. He kisses me back and then pulls away. I’m still on top of him.
“Get off of me!” he says in outrage.
“Not until you say you like me,” I say teasingly.
“Okay, maybe I like you a little bit.” I give him a look. “Maybe more than a little bit. Fine.” He sighs. “I like you a lot. Happy?”
I giggle. “Yeah,” I say fondly. Then I plop down next to him and rest my head on his chest. His wings wrap around us both. Maybe my feelings aren’t as unrequited as I thought.