"Why do you think that is, Roseabelle?" He finally spoke, his back still faced toward me. "Why do you think we are so unbelievably horrid of saying exactly what it is, that we feel?" He breathed, finally facing his body towards me again. I tried to look into his eyes, but they were focused on the cement beneath his feet. "Do you think it's the fact that we have known eachother for so long, that the thought it almost unbearable? To see eachother as anything more then friends? Or maybe it's because we are so uncaustiously scared of the consiquences if we do ever speak our feelings? Or do you think it's because we've grown up in a generation where we don't think about what we're feeling, we don't think, we just kiss someone out of the blue. We just do something, anything radical, based off our feelings before we think about the consquences, or why, why we're wanting to do it.
He rans his hair through his perfectly placed hair.
"Or maybe". He continued. "Maybe it is simply all 3, maybe we have known eachother so long that the consiquences are so unberable to even fathom if we ever did talk about out feelings, because heaven forbid, speaking of our feelings would speak them into existence. And at what cost? To share a few loving moments before we turn around and ask to go back to the start? Or before one of us falls into the arms of another, and I, I am left heart broken".
I leant forward to play my hand on his arm, he shook his head and took a step back.
He continued.
"There have been so many times, where I just want to be like everyone else in this forsaken world and just do, just act upon my feelings, but I'll be dammed if I ever do something radical with out thinking abou it first. But you, you Rosebelle, you have never been like that, you see something you want and you go for it, you don't even question it. That's something I've always admire about you, and with all of me, I wish I could be more like you in that way, but everytime I try, I see something I want, I try to go for it, but I always stop myself before I even get half way.
"Uh". He looked at me briefly before his eyes flickerd else where, his cheeks now a shade of pink. "Do you remeber the very first time we kissed? He led a smile slide out from the left side of his motuh.
"We uh, we were fourteen and it was Christmas eve, I had spent the night at your house watching Christmas movies with your family and when it came time for me to leave, you walked me to the door. We stood there for a while before you looked up and there was a mistle toe above us. You smiled and I laughed awkwardly. You looked at me and asked, do you remeber what you asked?"
"Do you believe in magic?" I replied in a second, catching his eyes, finally.
"Right, of course you remeber, because you were there.. and then." He went on. "Before I even had time to reply to you, your lips were on mine, and from that moment on, I believed in magic.
I smiled at the memory, before I finally spoke.
"You know I don't always..".
He gave me a puzzled look.
"I can't, uh, I can't always go for what I want, even if it's standing right in front of me."
