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I Know

I can see your eyes darken every time you look at her, you always try to shrug it off, I know. But you can’t. I know how you linger outside my bedroom door, longing to be person in my arms. I know how your mood just lifts when I’m near you, and I know you don’t want to show it. I know how, at the same time, I depress you to no end, and all you can do is hold back the tears.

Right now, you’re talking to her, the one who made you realise what you wanted. Me. You’re talking to her and all you can do is tune out. Every time your attention wavers, every time, your gaze lands on me. And such a wistful gaze it is, it’s full of hope that, you know, will never be fulfilled and the sad longing. Only a sliver of it, can I see in your eyes. It captivates me, it truly does. You know her eyes never did catch me, but you don’t know to what extent yours have pulled me in. Pulled me into your web of desires, the ones you don’t dare to speak of.

I know how you try to avoid the subject of feelings, and I know why you shy away from the thought of a partner. I know how you reject the girls so kindly, and how you try to be their friend despite the rejection. You usually succeed. I know that every time you reject a girl, your eyes stray to catch mine. And I can see you’re desperate for me to notice it all, desperate for me to say something to sooth your woes. But I can’t. I can’t and we both know the reason why.

She stands there with a hand on her hip, her eyes full of fire. And, though I don’t love her, I need her. So, when you’re standing there with eyes so sad, I have to go to her. Because the image of you so lost – it haunts. I can see you breaking as the days go by. You break every time I kiss her, every time I hold her close. But, when you catch my gaze I don’t look away. I can’t. You’re starting to realise, I notice. You’re starting to understand that I know. I’ve known all along.

You run. It’s what you always do when you can’t control something. You run, because I can’t catch you. I can’t catch you like you’ve caught me. I can admit it. You’ve caught me, but I can’t leave her. I can’t catch you now. Not with her. So when you’re running laps, think of how I know, think of what you’ve done to me. Realise I don’t want this to end the way it is. I want to see you stop. I want to see you face what you’re running from. I want you to face me.

You stop running as the bell rings. You’re sweating and panting for breath after so long a run. You step into the classroom water dripping from your hair to the ugly, green carpet. No one says a word. You walk straight past me, even as I reach out a hand to stop you. As I look back I can see your attempt at a neutral expression and the teacher walks in. I know you’re watching me as I turn to the front of the room. And I want to turn back. The minutes drag by and finally, the bell rings for sixth period. I cut you off in the corridor. You don’t move though there is enough room to dodge past me without a glance.

“You knew,” you speak with great difficulty. “You knew and you didn’t say a damn thing!”
I know, and I’m sorry. I can see the crowd gathering around us now. The great fight between friends. Is it a fight if one of the two feels guilty as hell? I know you’re trying to calm down, but the hurt driving you won’t stop. You turn to take a different route to class, and, as the crowd parts to let you pass, you storm back.

Oh God, you... your mouth. You... You pull back before I have a chance to push you away. You look lost again and I’m sure I share the same expression. You kissed me. The crowd stares in silence, and then the jeers start. f**, poof, queer! All the things I knew would happen. You look down at me, and the longing is clear in your eyes, and the sadness. That is what causes me to run. I can hear the crowd hiss at you still and I attempt to tune it out, because I can’t go back now.

I can hear the soles of your shoes hit the ground as you run after me and I will myself to go faster. As you catch me and hold me in place I don’t hear the words you’re saying, nor do I feel your arms wrap around me. Finally, I listen.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You’re shaking. “I didn’t mean... I—I love you.”
You let go of me after those words and you start your lone walk to the oval. I stand there even after you finish your first lap. I’m still standing there as the bell rings for the end of the day. I move only when she arrives to make me forget. Because, even if I love you... I need her. And that is how it ends, and I can only hope that you find someone you’ll love more than me, because I can’t possibly leave her now.