I'll Get Over It

I sat alone in a room. It was a blank, lifeless place. White walls. White floor. No furniture. Nothing. I was alone in this place, thinking to myself. It was the usual things that would go through my head. The "what if?"'s and "could it be?"'s.
Me fantasizing that dreams could become realities.
"Hey," a gentle voice spoke suddenly.
I looked over my shoulder, but I didn't need to see his face to know it was him. He was staring at me, his gaze gentle, but demeanor shy and timid.
I smiled at him, hiding my own shyness with everything inside of me. I could feel my heart beating in my chest. That heightened feeling people would always get when they received a rush of adrenalin. I got up, walking towards him as he walked towards me. "Hi," I greeted.
We stopped roughly two feet apart.
"How are you?" he asked me. There was a genuine look in his eye. He cared enough to want to know if I was well.
I nodded. "I'm alright How are you?" I returned.
"Good," he said, shuffling his feet and sticking both his hands into his pockets. His gentle eyes had dropped to the floor, no longer on me.
I understood his actions. He could be like this sometimes. Shy. Unsure what to say. Not positive how to act. It was at this point I'd always help him out.
"I'm glad you're well," I told him. I meant every single word. "Is there something you need?"
I knew what he'd say. It was the same thing he'd always say. He'd shake his head and answer no, then I'd proceed to say something ridiculous and he'd hug me out of nowhere. It felt normal to me. Like a vital routine to maintain something.But that didn't happen.
He looked up at me, saying quietly, "I was just nervous and wanted to talk to you. I guess.." he slowly stopped, looking unsure.
I tilted my head. "What is it?" I asked.
"I'm confessing my feelings to her," he replied.
My heart sank a bit deeper into my chest. Perhaps as it dug in towards my spinal cord it also made its way down towards my stomach. I didn't know what to say. I had heard about his feelings for her only just the previous night. I was shocked to say the least. After that? I felt like I had been shot with a bullet at point-blank range. It was then, when my thoughts were lost in themselves and my mind was in a darker place that I felt it. His arms coiled through my arms and around my back, warm and gentle, but firm and almost protective. Maybe even a little scared..
I squeaked as he grabbed me and pulled me close, and I looked up at him with a flustered, red-faced expression. And here we were. Right where we always were. This was not the first time we had been there. In fact, it was one of many. He'd hold me and hug me, and stroke my back and touch my hair. I'd stand there, sometimes squeaking and blushing under his touch, other times squirming and mockingly demanding my release. But truth be told, I shyly relished in every second I was in his arms. I felt safe with him. Truly, genuinely safe. Protected from the troubles of my life. Protected from people I knew wanted to hurt me. Protected from things I could do to hurt myself or others around me.
I had feelings for him.
"I'm scared," he said quietly, almost whispering to me. Our faces were inches apart. "I'm scared to tell her how I feel."
But he had the same feelings for someone else.
I had to compose myself. Had to wipe this absurd look off my face that mixed between me blushing at his grip on me and my shock and horror at him even mentioning what he felt for her.
He thought of us as just friends, I thought as I looked down and examined our current positions. The way we were holding one another, my arms around his chest as I gripped him, and his around me as he held me in turn. This..this was just friendship in his mind.
But it was so much more to me. It was special. Something I shared with no one else. No one. It also meant safety to me. Reassurance. I tried to portray myself as a tough and resilient person on the outside, but on the inside I was just a weak, pathetic, scared little girl.
But I suppressed those feelings and pushed them to the back of my mind. I smiled for him."It's alright," I said, slipping one of my hands out from behind him and poking his nose. "Be honest with her. You've got this."
And he did. I knew that because I knew her feelings as well. She liked him as well. Once he told her how he felt, they'd most certainly decide to start a relationship. It was almost certain. I suppose that's where I had gone wrong when I myself confessed my feelings to him only just a few weeks ago. He did not reciprocate them. He felt we were better off as just friends.
I didn't meet the mark.
But I wasn't there to have a silent pity party to myself and wallow in my rejections, nor to brew bitterness inside of me towards him nor her. They were good for one another. I knew her. She was a genuine girl. She'd give him what he was seeking. She'd take care of him. Something I had tried to do, but I suppose I had failed.
He responded by holding me closer. Hugging me tighter. I felt his warm breath on me. I felt his eyes no longer staring at me. They closed as he looked away. "Just..stay with me," he said quietly. "Please."
All I could do was nod quietly, closing my own eyes. I just couldn't look at him. I couldn't bear to think that soon, he'd no longer be here with me. He'd go to her room and speak with her, and they'd both confess their feelings to one another. This would be over. For him to do this with me once he was with her would be wrong. Even if she was alright with it and he wanted to, I wouldn't allow it. The hugging. The closeness. It wouldn't feel right to me.
I felt his hands then. He was running his fingers through my hair and down my back. I recalled once when he did this for the very first time. I had been so shocked, so flustered, I was a brick wall. He asked gently why I was tense. I couldn't tell him why.
But I wasn't tense this time. I was used to his touch. I understood it and trusted it. He then pulled me in closer and he cuddled me, holding me tightly against him and rubbing his head against mine. I was a mess internally. I wanted to scream and cry and laugh all at the same time. I wanted to push him away and yet hold him even tighter.
"You're not squirming," he said to me quietly.
And I wasn't. Which was uncharacteristic of me. That's what I was known by him to do. It was what I had to do to keep myself in check. If I didn't resist his friendly affections my mind would run wild and think there was more going on. It was a self control reflex. But today I had no self control.
Shaking my head, I replied, "No, I'm not." I resisted the urge to tell him how often I didn't want to squirm. How often I wanted to simply rest in his arms and him in mine, and just be with him peacefully. We didn't say much. In my opinion, our friendship and my feelings for him had not been built entirely on words. They had been built on actions. The way he'd always be one of the first people to come talk to me when something was wrong, or how genuinely and earnestly he'd speak to me. At least, whenever he wasn't making ridiculous jokes I shouldn't laugh at but found funny only because he said them. My knees were trembling, and to be honest I was feeling weak. It was all too much. The weight of my thoughts on top of me, thinking of what was to come after today, after this moment ended. I thought about being alone. No longer protected. No longer having a special place in his heart he said I had, even as a friend. I knew she'd take that place and more once they confessed their feelings to one another. I didn't resent her for it. It just saddened me. A lot.
We both sat down without saying a word. In all honesty, I think he needed to sit as well. He seemed flushed. Nervous and upset. He was worried about telling her how he felt. Meanwhile I was basically losing it because of what he was going to do.
Silently he stretched out on the floor and pulled me into his lap. His arms remained firmly around me, and I curled up in a ball with my head against his chest. After a moment he sighed and reclined onto his back, and I then wrapped my arms around him. And that's where we stayed. On the floor holding each other. Until he got up the courage to leave to talk to her. I myself had to work up the courage to say to myself after he left that everything would be okay.
"I'll get over it."