"It's just really... I dunno. It's aggravating, I guess."

"Aggravating?" The way he repeated this back to me had an undertone of crude laughter. From the corner of my eye, I glared at him.

"Yes," I repeated slowly. "Aggravating." I could tell from the none-too-subtle way he rolled his eyes that he didn't believe me. My eyes narrowing further into little more than slits, I growled softly in my throat; a dangerous warning to him that he was starting to tick me off. Picking up on that, he stopped his obnoxious show and let out a heavy sigh. Turning his head to face me, we stared at each other for several seconds.

"Why is it so aggravating?" He spoke with the sincerest interest in understanding my feelings, but the question itself irked me. Growing impatient, I snapped at him.

"How is it not aggravating?" I demanded. "No one likes me beyond a friend. I am always the best friend or the 'little kid' kinda person. No one looks beyond that; I just wish they would. I wish someone would ACTUALLY be interested in me." Discontinuing my rant, I sat against the white plastered wall in a wage of frustration.

"Well..." he started after giving me my time to cool off. "Maybe I have a crush on you."

I stared at him. He looked back at me all the confidence in the world-- the same boy who was shy even being around someone he thinks is cute-- was unaffected by saying he had any sort of feelings for me.

I could tell by his expression he was lying.

I could tell without a shadow of a doubt.

"You don't have a crush on me." I told him, tossing that thought aside. He twitched, reacting to the cold way I said it. Sighing heavily in defeat, he placed his hands against the carpeted flooring to lift himself up from his seat. He stopped and looked down at me as my chocolate eyes rested on him, waiting. He looked as if he was about to say something before he stopped himself. Shaking his head, he exhaled deeply. What is it?" I asked, starting to feel more of the guilt sinking in as I watched him. Shaking his head noncommittally, he drummed his fingers against his legs as he passed his weight from foot to foot.

"Nothing." He responded. I knew he wasn't being honest with me. Nothing is never nothing; it's always something.

"What is it?" I pressed further. I was well aware that my tone was amplified impatience-- even though it was not impatience I felt. I struggled to gain time before he disappeared into his room and shut me out completely.

"Nothing." I halted. Looking up at him pleadingly, I tried to ask him what was troubling him without speaking. I had never been good with words. Standing up, I stood in front of him and tried to get him to open up to me. He attempted to shield me from noticing the resentment in his body language. Though try as he may, I knew those feelings were there. Guilt completely sunk in as my heart fell into my stomach. He turned away from me and walked back to the overwhelming darkness of his own room. He paused after placing his palm on the old metal doorknob. He glanced back over his shoulder as if taking one last look at the light before fading into darkness.

"Just for your information," he stated coolly. "I really do like you." And without another word, he slipped away from me.