"Stuck In The Friend-Zone Again and Again"

"I'm Really Not Fine At All"

{3rd Person}

Paris received a text in response to her confession.

"Really?"

She replied quickly. "Yes, he loves me too, he told me so".

Luke sent an answer back quickly:
"I'm so happy for you!"

Paris smiled at that, glad to have a friend like Luke.

What she didn't know was that tears were blurring Luke's vision and leaving droplets on the screen of his phone.

What she didn't see was Michael sigh, wrapping his arm around Luke and pulling him into a much needed hug.

What she didn't hear were the quiet cries escaping Luke's mouth at the thought of her being with someone else, someone he couldn't take away from her even if he tried, because it would hurt her and he could never do that.

But how could she understand all that, with so many miles between them?

All she saw was the fake exterior so much like her own much of the time.

Perhaps if they had been together in the same place, she could have seen through the cracks.

But all she could see was the chosen words on the screen that Luke had sent.

So she thought he was genuinely happy for her.

And he was, but he also felt like his world was crumbling.

////////////////////////////////////////////

Over the course of the next two weeks, Paris had a wonderful time, her superficially happy shell was not needed.

Luke on the other hand was using his shell daily, and only Michael knew how much he was hurting.

////////////////////////////////////////////
(Paris's P.O.V.)

Cuddled up with Jake on the couch 6 days before I was to leave for Australia, I thought that life could not possibly be better.
I had a loving boyfriend, caring friends, and was about to embark on an exciting journey.
The only problem was going to be missing Jake while I was away.

I leaned my head on Jake's shoulder and sighed.
"I'm going to miss you."
"I'll miss you too," he sighed back.
"Maybe you can come visit me when we're around here?" I tested.
"I would love to," Jake smiled.
"And we can still Skype and FaceTime and text and call each other," I reminded him.
"And we can do all of those things," he agreed.
"We will be okay, won't we?" I asked nervously. "With the long distance thing?"
"You know what they say-" Jake said "-absence makes the heart grow fonder."
I smiled. "I suppose you're right."

////////////////////////////////////////////
(Luke's P.O.V.)

6 days.
6 days until Paris would be here and I would get to see her again.
6 days until I would face the girl who I had come to realize I was desperately in love with.
6 days until I would see the girl who was mutually in love with her amazing boyfriend.

How I was going to survive all the time with her, I didn't know.

Calum and Ashton didn't know I loved Paris yet, as I had made Michael swear not to tell, making me feel like I was in 5th grade again.

One of the worst parts of the situation with Paris was that I couldn't hate Jake.

He was a nice guy.
He treated her wonderfully.
He made her happy.
He was polite.
He was funny.
He was smart.
He wasn't bad looking.
He had good taste in music.

I couldn't even hate him for loving Paris, because if you didn't at least like Paris you were stupid, and if you loved her you were smart and knew what was good in the world.

So there was nothing left for me to hate.

But to say I wasn't excited to see Paris was a lie.

I still loved her, after all.

I craved her presence, her touch, the way her smile lit up a room.

Her goodness and her jokes and her laugh when something truly funny happened.

Her excitement over the smallest of things.

Her careless singing in the shower and everywhere else.
The way she would stop if she thought one of us was listening.
I was always listening.

Her wide eyes behind her big glasses when she was happy, glittering like those special stones you can only find in special shops that people like to collect.

Her scent: always a mix of laundry detergent and flowers.

I couldn't imagine leaving her for tour.

If you have never had to leave someone behind that you love, I could not explain to you what it would feel like, because each person feels it differently.

But for me, leaving Paris behind would be like leaving behind the sun that gave me warmth and the colour in my skin and kept me from growing cold until I faded to nothing.

But she was tagging along, creating another set of problems altogether mind you, but I wouldn't be without her.

Sitting on my couch alone, thinking about all of this, made me wonder how I hadn't realized I had loved her before.