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Rated: E · Prose · Romance/Love · #1425885
misunderstandings, a love that can never be recognized...
          It didn't matter to him anymore. Knowing that she liked him was enough -- enough to make him determined to gently and effectively cut off any feelings she had for him. Usually, when he found out that a good friend of his liked him, he kind of withdrew, so as not to communicate the wrong message and possibly jeopardize their friendship. This case with her was the same, especially since he had never felt or thought the same way about her...at all. She was a nice friend and a great person, but as for having the qualities he wanted in a girl, she was too quiet, too dependent, and too needy. And so he decided it would be best to stop while ahead. He resolved to politely declining any efforts and attempts she made to be closer to him. Notes, calls, texts, plans to hang out together -- he shunned them as courteously and nicely as possible, making everything seem like "bad timing" and unfortunate misses. He was determined to be quieter and more detached than usual when around her because he didn't want to say the wrong thing, and it became somewhat of a priority to ignore her shy, flirty comments and glances. He decided to be as gentlemanly as possible in his efforts to make her slowly stop her feelings. He was warm and suave; playing it cool to make sure their friendship was still okay and that nothing was awkward. Up until now, he thought he had done a pretty good job. He was careful and polite and safe, and everything seemed fine. Except...he missed one very important thing. He couldn't see through his politeness and nice-guy attitude just how much it was hurting her to know that he was trying to keep her from loving him.
          It didn't matter to her anymore. She didn't have time, so all her efforts were set on letting him know. It didn't matter how many calls or texts it took to hear his voice, or how needy she had to seem to have one more chance to have his help and be a part of his life. Time was slipping away from her and she wanted to spend every disappearing second being in love with him. She knew it was selfish, perhaps the most selfish thing she could do in her situation, but she didn't care. She didn't have time. She had so much yet to say to him, and no matter how much she wanted to savor the simple sweetness of being in love with him, she couldn't. She was forced to rush something beautiful into two unfair months, because that was all she had left. But then, she found out what he was doing. She realized that he was being "polite" with her. Even though his words were warm and his smiles were sweet, they only further confirmed the gaping chasm between them. And she couldn't help herself -- it hurt. The nice, gentlemanly front hurt more than if he had completely ignored her or gotten annoyed with her. He was being fake; the one person she was actually willing to be true to was putting up walls to shun her. The stinging in her eyes was nothing compared to the wrenching hopelessness she felt in her heart.
          'You don't get it, do you?' she thought, watching him with sad, sad eyes. 'I'm dying. I'm dying, and I'm in love with you.'
          She watched as he politely denied every attempt she made to be closer to him. She stood and watched because she could do nothing else, except maybe hold back silent, stinging tears, pretending to be okay. She wanted so much to just burst out and yell that she didn't have time and that she loved him. But how could she? She didn't want pity love. She didn't want it to be forced. And most of all, she didn't want to have no time.
          But then, after many empty attempts and agonizing days had passed, it finally hit her. The realization hurt even more than the hopelessness. She began to understand that she couldn't wish for something so selfish as wanting him to love her back; she had to force herself to believe that she didn't want him to love her back. Because she knew the truth, and only she knew: even if he did fall in love with her, after two unfair months, she would not even be around to make him happy. She was dying. She was dying and she was in love with him. There was nothing she could do.
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