Finally,finally

          You're walking on the sidewalk the first time you see him. It fills your chest with some indescribable feeling. Hot and hollow. Like somethings missing and you just know he has it. He's beautiful, but that's not even all it is.

          But you can't quite place it, so you ignore him. Or you try to. After that first time, after feeling that, you find it hard to think of anything else. The burning hollowing feeling only gets stronger, until you're almost sure there's something truly wrong with you.

          He's so beautiful.

          If you are just going to think of him all the time anyway, you figure, you may as well spend time with him. As much as you can. You don't neglect anything else you need to do – which isn't much, frankly – but you spend all the free time you can get your hands on with him.

          He likes to go to the park the most, you find. No matter where you happen to meet up though, he never has anyone else with him. You try to ask around, but no one seems to know anything. He's like a ghost.

          He's so beautiful.

          You like to just sit with him and watch the leaves turn. The autumn plants and flowers bloom. The children play. Watching the children gives you a different pain. You always think, just for half a second, how great it would be to have a family with him, but you don't want a family with anyone. You can't have a family with anyone.

          But slowly the idea dawns on you that you do love him. You're in love with him. You don't know how to bring it up. He's too good for you, you think, but you just have to try. What else can you do about that burning.

          He's so painfully beautiful.

          It's not until it feels like the fire in your chest has completely hollowed you out and all you can do now is cry that you make your move. You gather up some cornflowers – his favorite flower – and approach him, finally.

          His reaction is...less than pleasant. You told him you know they're his favorites, but he says you can't, the two of you have never even talked. Well of course, you'd said, I wanted everything to be perfect!

          His rejection hurts more than his beauty. You're shell shocked. You don't know what to do. You kinda don't want to admit it, even to yourself, but you'd already had your whole life together planned out.

          The hollow space in your chest feels suddenly full, and wet, and you can feel yourself choking on your feelings. You're all alone. You can feel something wet and slimy crawl its way up and out, up and out of that hollow space in your chest.

          You realize what it is all at once, the cornflowers – they're growing out of that hollow space, choking, suffocating you. You can feel some of them pushing against your throat, wanting to come out in more unconventional ways than the ones already pushing out of your mouth, drinking your blood.

          You can't breathe, and it's basically the same feeling you always felt while watching him. You don't know what to do. So, you do nothing. You think about trying to pull the stems up and out, up and out, but you don't. It's better if you don't, you tell yourself. It's better if you never have to think of him again.

          There are tears burning in your eyes as the flowers finally manage to perforate the front of your throat. You'd held your head back, trying to give them the most direct route to the sun, but they didn't care about you. It's just as well, you suppose. You're dying, after all. Beggars can't be choosers, you think to yourself.

          The front of your shirt is soaked in sweat and blood and vomit by this point, and you're starting to wonder just how much longer you can possibly last like this. Drowning takes longer than you ever could have expected, your body convulses to try to get as much air as it can, even though you've given up on the surface.

          It wants to live, even though you want to die. Out of the corner of your eye, you see something, it's blurry, but you think it's him. All you can think about is how the hollow space in your chest feels full now, and the burning is on its way out. If you survive this, you are positive he will love you now. He rushes over, but you can't even feel his hands on you. Oh, how cruel can this world be?

          He is crying over you, but you think that you can hear him telling you about how cornflowers are his favorite. You can't figure out why he's saying that, though, you already knew. He already knew you knew.

          You just sit there, in his lap, coughing up the blue-stained-red petals, while he rambles on over you, as things finally, finally go dark.