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.