They two sit there in a bench, side by side, facing the fountain. There are children playing around. Their giggles echo, being the soundtrack of that boy and girl meeting. Other people chatter and laugh for things that they don’t bother to know. The girl is wearing her loose grey cardigan—the one she loves too much, and the boy is on his blue stripes shirt, the one he loves to wear too.
She loves him, the girl thinks. She is a good friend, the boy thinks.
“Why did you write poems about me?” The boy asks her. His face expression is undescribed. His hands are on his laps. She can’t tell what’s on his mind right now.
The girl responds with light chuckles. Her laughter is undescribed. He can’t tell what’s on her mind right now.
“I don’t know. I just wrote what came up on my mind. And it was always about you.” The girl says, looking into his dark brown eyes. The eyes she wants to see every time she wakes up in the morning.
“Are you that desperately in love with me?” His face now gets concerned. His hands move, intertwining.
The girl chuckles. Her eyes wanders searching for answer. She sees the cute children blowing bubbles. Oh, she wishes to be a little girl again.
“Maybe I’m not that desperate. Maybe I’m more than desperate in love with you. I don’t know actually.” The girl says. She gives a smile which the boy thinks is cute. Her eyes look into the boy’s. His eyes wanders, looking down somewhere. He is nervous. He looks nervous in front of her now, but the other times too. Sometimes he looks funny. Sometimes he looks pretty. The girl thinks.
“Why did you ask that?” The girl asks. She hopes that the answer will fulfill her question. But she knows…
“Nothing. I’m just wondering.” The boy answers. She knows that the answer will be that shallow. And she laughs. He’s too nervous. He doesn’t know how to answer that question properly.
“You’re always like that, you know. Mysterious.” The girl says with mimics. Their eyes meet each other. The boy thinks she has pretty eyes. The girl thinks she sees constellation in his eyes.
“But that’s fine. I know you can never open up to me.” She lifts up her hands like giving up on something. She’s giving up on him. Giving up on her feelings for him.
“I have to go.” The girl says softly, more like whisper. She puts on her bag. She looks into his eyes again. She really wants to cry but she can’t, not in front of him.
“See you, when I see you.” The girl says with thin smile. The boy nods with thin smile too. She looks into his eyes for the last time. Their eyes dive into each other for a while.
It is enough, enough for her to fight for his love, enough for her to be hurt, the girl thinks. She leaves. And he watches her walk away. Feeling sorry for hurting her, for not be able to reciprocate her love, for having to let her go. And that’s the end of their story. (e.c)