Untouchable

Run

"She is the kind of girl who makes the smallest moments seem like your greatest adventure." — Courtney Peppernell, I hope you stay

It wasn't that big of a deal. He just had a little cold. I'm happy that he told me he couldn't hug me because of it. Of course, I wasn't happy he didn't hug me, but I was happy that he was communicating instead of making me observe him coughing. Unlike my past relationships, even though this "thing" I had with Oli wasn't even a relationship to begin with, there was always the disadvantage of me not being able to communicate well. I would always just assume they would understand or put the pieces together, but of course, I tend to like incredibly dense boys. I distinctly remember the week he was sick. He had been absent from school for the past 2 days and on Wednesday I saw him. Just like clockwork, he spotted me. And then again, just like clockwork, he came running.

 
"CHARlieeeeeee! Sorry I can't hug you today, I'm sick." He put it out so simply.

"Awww. It's okay." I said back.

Honestly, I think it might've been awkward for him to talk to me. Or maybe it was only me who thought it was awkward when he would try to talk to me. I never am the one to start a conversation, unless it was someone I was incredibly familiar with. When I'm with someone I'm familiar with, I can usually guess what their reaction will be. I'm good at reading people and predicting their every move. But when it comes to meeting new people, I don't have the upper hand. Although Oliver wasn't new to me, we never had much time to talk, seeing as we only saw each other at lunch and recess. Even in drama, was our conversations limited. We mostly talked about the musical, people, candy, and his interests. Whilst I grew to know him more, I noticed he doesn't necessarily ask anything about me. Sure I'd get a little "What's your ethnicity?" or "Do you like ____", but never anything personal. I wanted to know more about him, but it seemed that he couldn't care less about what there was to know about me. In January, I texted him to ask who his favorite music artist was. It was sort of an odd question because I usually just asked him random things, but music is different. In my eyes, music is an opening to your thoughts. It reflects what you're thinking and feeling. It shows your personality, and when someone wants to know what you listen to, it's because they want to see what you're like. He asked why I wanted to know and of course, like always, I said "idk it was random". That's my go-to message by the way. He told me it was SZA. Unfortunately, the way he responded disrupted my feelings. When I texted him, he didn't know who I was, so when I told him, he said back "oh hi charlie". That emotionless "oh". What struck me the most was that when I told him I got his number from the theater group chat, to make it sound less weird of course, he said "oh". Just "oh". That was what scared me. "oh". It made me want to dread the next day, made me want to pluck my eyes out because of how dry it was, and made me want to rethink why I even like him to begin with. I left him on read for a few minutes, just to think of what could've made him respond that way. Was I moving too quickly? Was it odd for me to be texting him? If it was odd, would he stop hugging me and go back to strangers? I couldn't let that happen. I had already let 20 minutes pass by before I texted again. I reminded him that he didn't answer my question, which brings us back to the start. After he told me, I told him I'd make him a playlist, which was suggested by one of my friends. What I didn't think through, was what I was going to put in it. I knew he didn't like me the way I liked him. I knew that much, so I definitely couldn't put love songs into the playlist. That was a big no. If I did, he would know I liked him, and he would think I was weird. He would realize that every single hug he gave me wasn't just a hug to me. It was what consumed my 8th-grade year, what kept it together when it was crumbling, what comforted me on lonesome nights. It meant more than just a friendly gesture, just an acknowledgment of my presence. So if I were to lose that, it's unintelligible what could occur. So I cried. Again. For him. I cried thinking of possibilities, I cried for the unrequited and unrelenting feelings I had for him, but most sincerely, I cried unknowingly. I didn't understand why I was crying. I didn't know what could happen. It's a puzzle piece that could fit anywhere, but you don't know where it really belongs.