|The Last Friend
Author: Shadow x Wolf PM
To the world you are one person, but to one person, you may be the world. What if this was a matter of life or death, but you never knew it?Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Words: 1,243 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 1 - Published: 05-13-12 - id: 3022241
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
You only met him
When you ventured into the library that morning.
You needed a book for a project
But you caught him looking at you over the top of his book.
You had to walk by him to get where you needed to be
But when you glanced over your shoulder, he was looking again.
You caught him blushing before he tore his eyes away again
This happened twice more in the next few minutes.
What harm would come from you meeting him
You tell yourself, and then go sit in the chair next to him.
You offer a simple hello, and your name
He blushes and returns the favor.
Christian and you leave the library together that day
Though not much of a conversation was exchanged.
You don't see him again after you part ways for you different classes
But you do meet once more in the library, when you return the book.
This time, you don't question it as you go down to sit next to him
Start up small talk about reading, though you don't do it much.
You see him smile a genuine smile, and it makes you light up inside
You don't make many people this happy.
The next morning, you find your feet forcing you to the library
Even though you know you have no purpose there.
You knew that he would be there
Because yesterday, he told you he was always there.
More small talk ensues as you two sit together
The librarian casts a knowing eye in your direction.
You make no motion to tell her otherwise
Because there is no harm in adults having an imagination.
As you leave that day, you trip into him
And as he helps you up, your hands linger together.
Both he and you blush, then stumble away to your classes
But inside, you feel a little different.
The library soon becomes a warm, familiar place to you
Sometimes, you actually bring a book.
It is nice to be able to enjoy silence
Even if you have another person to you right.
You read somewhere that good friends can be silent together
Without a single moment feeling awkward.
This is true with him, but no one knows
None of your friends know about him.
He is your secret, before school, before you see anyone else
Before there is a chance that you could be caught together.
You know that he is an outcast, with social unrespect
But this shouldn't bother you, you know.
Yet somehow it does, but it seems not to bother either of you
That your daily meetings are in secret.
That was in the winter that you met, early winter
In February a certain day rolls around.
As you enter the library that morning, you are met by Christian.
He holds in his hand a single, red rose.
You take it in awe, cheeks growing hot
But feel better as you notice him blushing as well.
You both read, the flower laying by your side
And when you part for the day, a short embrace is created.
You stumble away from him as fast as you can
But you are sure he is doing the same.
The embraces are soon a regular occurrence
But it long since stopped being awkward.
The rose died a few days later
But the petals still lay, curled on your dresser.
A month or so later your birthday rolls around
And you find him waiting, with flowers again.
But not just one rose is in his hand
A whole bouquet, just for you.
You take it, asking how in the world he knew
Only to find he remembered from your third conversation.
Today is the first in a while that you do not embrace,
But it perfectly fine, because neither of you wants to crush the roses.
The question that you dreaded to arrive was asked
By your best friend at the time.
She wanted to know where you were every day before school
Because she knew that you were one of the earliest arrivers.
You shrug, and say things have changed with you schedule,
But you should have known that she would find out.
Your 'friends' somehow find out
Possibly by following you, or having someone else.
But they scorned your for it.
They told you that he was different
And somehow, different was not okay.
You tried to weakly defend him
To no avail, of course.
They made you swear that you would leave him
Or they would leave you.
To you those friends were your air and water
And you thought you could not survive without them.
You agreed not to meet him any longer
And they cheered.
You didn't visit him any longer.
You helped your friends in the spreading of rumors
About him, the boy who changed your life.
One day, in the halls, your eyes meet his
And he drops his glance in an instant.
As you eventually pass, you think you see
A silver tear falling down his face.
You realize that you feel hollow inside
As you lay on your bed that night.
You realize that no real friends
Would turn you against someone like Christian.
You vow to return to the library that next morning
And you do, only to be shocked.
There, where he used to sit lay a rose
And a note scrawled on beautiful paper.
It was his handwriting, you knew it
From the notes he wrote you occasionally.
Those notes were a long time ago
But you remember them.
You read it, and tears fill your eyes.
You know that he is gone forever,
Leaving this note to tell you why he left.
You know as tears stain your cheeks that you will never
Ever be able to see his smile again.
You will not laugh over books
Or share thoughts about happenings.
You would not see his gray, sparkling eyes
Or his deep brown hair that was always well groomed.
You would no longer get flowers
Or share in sweet, warm embraces.
His note told you so
And told you he chose a rope.
He told you of his hurt, how you were his last hope
How he had nearly pushed over this brink before
Until you came along.
It hurt you inside to read it, until tears
We're falling in torrents upon your face.
You set down the note and held the rose in your hand
Traced over the stem, absent of thorns.
You sat where you always had, and looked to where he did
Remembering the days where you were truly happy.
You see him sitting there, blushing
And hearing yourself laugh.
Those days are gone forever, you know
And you know it is your fault.
He was only another person in your life
Maybe a bit more.
But you realize that you were in the only one in his
And you left him alone.
When you visit the dark gray stone marker
With the dirt still fresh
You leave a bundle of roses at the foot of it
With tears falling like rain.
You know that he won't be here anymore
But you know now to treasure anything that you know is real.
You could have shared that thought with him
And he would have agreed with it.
But, it is too late for that.
It is too late for him.
Too late for you.