They Were Watching Each Other

The pressure was pushing down on her shoulders forcing her shoulders down and her steps seemed to be smaller than usual, perhaps she was tired today, he thought. She had sat down now and was writing something down in that book again, the one that he always saw her carrying around with her. Whatever it was that she was writing it seemed to be very intense, the way that she was hunched over the book, her hand moving fast, scribbling down word after word. Her hair kept falling down over her face, and every time she would wait at least three seconds before she reached up to tuck it behind her ear again, before her attention was focused entirely on the book again. That's all he could see when he looked at her, before he decide to look away and focused back on his lunch.

His hands absentmindedly picked at the sandwich in front of him, his attention seemed to be somewhere else as he tore off little bits of the bread. Half of his face was hidden by his hair as it hung over his eyes and forehead, his head tilted down, looking at the food in his hands. His shoulders seemed to sag just a little lower than usual today, perhaps he had been fighting with his friends again, she thought. She directed her attention back to her notebook before he was able to catch her watching him, not that he ever had caught her.

~

He had seen her getting out of the car this morning, someone that looked like her mother was in the car, and her eyes were glistening as if she had been crying. He had so desperately wanted to know what had caused her to be sad, he wanted to comfort her and check that she was okay. But he didn't do any of that. Instead he watched as she walked away from the car and into the school, tucking her sleeves down and over her hands. Before she disappeared into the school and she had gone out of sight.

She had seen him that morning, he was leaning against the gates outside of school, all of his friends were talking around him, but his eyes were focused on her. She knew that he could see the tears left behind in her eyes, and she silently wished that he would come over and see if she was okay. She just wanted to know that someone cared.

Now, she sat at her table again and he was glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, she had the book out again and was once again writing in it. He desperately wanted to know what she wrote in that book, he wanted to know what went through her mind while she sat there, he wanted to know her. But he couldn't do that, no one could, he had watched people try and talk to her before, but she shut them out and ignored them. He didn't want to be ignored.

He was sitting with his friends again today, perhaps that had made up again, she hoped so for his sake, every time he sat alone he seemed to be upset and she hated seeing him like that. If she was braver then she might have gone and sat with him at times like that, but she could never do something like that, she wasn't good for anyone, her mother had made her fully aware of that. So she kept herself at an arms-length with everyone, and it was better that way, or at least that's what she told herself. Because she only hurt those that got too close to her.

~

She walked to school today, he had seen her while he was standing around outside of school with his friends that morning. She had looked tired, though she still looked as beautiful as ever, none of his friends agreed with him though. Perhaps they saw her differently than he did, maybe the beautiful blue shade of her eyes was less beautiful to them, or perhaps they didn't see the way that the light bounced of her hair making her look more like an angel than a real person. Of course everyone had different opinions about people's looks, so why did it make him so angry that his friends didn't find her beautiful like he did?

He looked angry this morning when he was standing with his friends, she wondered what had happened to make him look like that. He was still handsome to her though, not that she would ever tell anyone that. His eyes always seemed to stand out, though she could never figure out what colour they were, sometimes when she saw them they looked brown and others time they were a startling black. His brown hair always looked like someone had been running their hands through it, whenever she saw his hair like that she hoped that the hands running through it were his own and not someone else's. Any other thought hurt her too much, which was strange since she didn't even really know him.