Drawing out the heartache

And you hate everything about him. You hate him for being so freaking perfect. Everything about him screams at you and you can’t help yourself. The way his eyes dance when he’s smiling, the way he sings stupid songs to you in class and the way he’ll make you look forward to the most boring lesson in the world.

You hate the way he made you fall so hard for him.

And you hate the way he is with her. The way he’ll look at her from across a crowed room, like she’s the only one in the world. The way she’s written all over everything he does.

You hate the way he doesn’t even see you.

Sure, he’ll talk to you and sure he’ll joke around with you and even laugh at the things you say sometimes. But he doesn’t really see you. Not the way that you want him too.

To him, you’re just another girl. You’re just another face. And it hurts to know that you’ll never be anything more to him. It hurts to know that you haven’t even got the slightest chance and it hurts to know that you might as well let go now.

But the thing that hurts the most is when he smiles at her. The corners of his perfect mouth tug upwards to make the tiniest dimples in his cheeks show and his eyes almost burn. That secret smile that you ache so badly to be on the receiving end of. That oh so perfect smile that only she has rights to.

And you hate it. You really do.

And now he’s looking at you, with the most adorable confused look covering his all-too-cute face.

“You in there?” His voice breaks through your thoughts and hurts you even more. It just reminds you further of what you can’t have. And it takes you a while to make sure you’ll be able to form a full sentence.

“Yeah, sorry.” You turn you head while you answer him, daring yourself to look at his face again. And you smile at him quickly, just to see him give you one back.

And then the ache in chest grows thicker, making it almost impossible for you to breathe anymore. You turn around to glance at the clock on the wall behind you.

There was still another half hour left. How was this lesson going so slowly?

Try concentrating on the teacher’s voice. The total monotone sound to it, explain something about… rock types? That would make sense. And you try to concentrate to what he’s talking about.

But pretty soon your mind trails back to him. He’s right next you. His chin resting on a balled fist. His boredom completely evident as he stares blankly at the wall ahead. And you know you should look away now. Just turn your head and face the front, so easy. But he looks too good and just can’t.

And now he’s looking right back at you. Smiling, just the way he always does. You feel your heart break, just a little father. Another tiny splinter breaking away. And if you could just look away, look anywhere, but him it’d hurt less. But you really can’t make yourself do it.

“Jay…” He says your name and your stomach flutters slightly. Sending shivers right down your spine. And you hate how he can do that to you in a single syllable.

“What’s up?” He’s asking you now, and he actually means it. But that doesn’t stop the hurt. Nothing he can say to you is going to make it any better.

You shake your head, not quite trusting your voice and cast your eyes down to the floor under your feet. Fixing them to a small black smudge next to your right foot.

And after a few moments, the burn you feel from his gaze fades and he’s looking back to the front. But you don’t look up again, eyes still downwards. It’s safer that way.

Seconds crawl by you, drawing out the heartache as much as it could. Until the bell rings wildly around the room and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a more beautiful sound.

And your walking out the classroom as fast as you can without running.