Unrequited

Chapter Six: The Struggle

Hazel's POV:

The first few weeks have passed, and the teachers real personalities has come out.

Ms. Lau, our English teacher also the only Asian teacher, went from optimistic hippie, to a strict solider. Mr. Brooks, happy and gay, turned into a yelling beast. Mr. Smith pretty much stayed the same, and figured out who has the most potential.

It's a Sunday, and majority of the school body is cramming to finish their homework. However, I, did all of my homework in class or after school. But now there's nothing to do. I can't even call a friend without hearing, "Can you help me with this?" or "Not now, I'm busy.". Then again, I only have Amber, so it's not like I have a big range anyway.

I found out that I have 5/7 classes with Dylan. I'm both excited and nervous. The more I see him, the more comfortable I get. The more comfortable I get, I get even more scared. Simple, I love his smile, I'm comfortable around it, I'm scared that one day it'll just vanish. And I will only have a memory of him, not the actual thing. It also turns out, I sit next to him in all of those classes. I have no idea how that happened.

I want to talk about all of this to Amber, but I can't start talking until I help her with all of her worksheets. And lets be real, Amber isn't the smartest girl I know. She has some smarts, but she's more of the cheerleader type. Good looks, .nice body, and a bit flirty...those kind of things.

So instead, I sit here, listening to John Mayer's "Continuum" album, and typing a paper for English. Why can't I be like a normal kid and be cramming for something due tomorrow, and not on Friday? Quietly, I close my laptop, I can't concentrate anyway. All I can think about is Dylan.

The way he smiles, laughs, and blushes. The way he shoves his hands in his pockets so deep, you would think he had any. The way he's confident about everything he does/says, even if he's wrong. The way he dresses is cool too. The way he runs his hands through his hair when he's frustrated. The way he bites his lower lip in concentration. The way he always smiles when he looks at me. The way he looks like he's always looking for me. The way he stands up for me. Everything. He's taking up so much room in my head, I can't concentrate on anything else. I may not be a poet, but this is what you call love.

Unrequited love, to be exact. One sided love, is what I have a case of. Some people don't understand that it's a fragile matter. For the lover, pain worse than torture. For the loved, none, until they find out. Then a wave of sadness washes over them. And when the lover sees the loved with another, it's feels like they've been shot in the same place a thousand times.

The struggle to balance love life and school life, is real. And not to mention the struggle to find a decent job. I found a few good ones here and there, but none of them really appeal to me. I'm quite a shy person, so I'm not really up for a cashier job. But the one job I've kept for 3 years now, is the cashier at Cafe Amour.

The reason I've kept it is because of Dylan. I started working there and I was about to quit, but then he suddenly started to show up. Eventually it became his regular hangout. He shows up everyday, sometimes alone, and we just talk. If possible, he even stays until I'm done. Then we walk home together. My coworkers always ask if we're dating, I always say no. So, many of them asked him out he said no. Apparently he told them he already has someone he likes. But they never bothered to tell me who it is, or was. Doesn't matter, not like he likes me or anything.

The pay is nice and all, but I would still go just to see him.

God, why can't I just stop thinking about him for a second? Am I that much of a stalker? Or am I just that deep in? I honestly don't know anymore. But I do know that I enjoy it for some reason. God, how creepy is that? If he found out, I would kill myself. But first I would ask him if he liked me at all. Hopefully the answer is yes.

Dylan's POV:

The first few weeks are finally over.

That took way too long. All the teachers have become monsters over this period of time. I thought they were supposed to keep their cool for at least one semester. When did that become a fourth?

I wonder what Hazel's doing. She's probably done with her homework, and figuring out what else there is to do. Because her best friend is still trying to finish hers. I'm sitting at the Cafe Amour, listening to John Mayer's "Continuum" album. I keep thinking about Hazel. I'm deciding whether to text her to meet me here. I just want to see her so badly, and it's only been 36 hours.

Her smile, and her slight blush. Her converse that I marked up with John Mayer song titles. The one that stands out the most is "Dear Marie". That's our favorite song. I have it written on my Vans too. The way she runs he hand through her hair when she's nervous. The way she bites her lip when she doesn't know what to do. The way she fiddles with the necklace I gave her for her 16th birthday. It's a gold star on a silver chain. I have a matching one that she gave me. It s silver star on a gold chain. That was when I realized that I like her.

Love is a fragile thing. The only way I know how to treasure it and keep it alive is through music. I don't take band, because status quo forbids me. But I do play piano on the side, nobody knows except for Hazel. I've wrote some songs, nothing really to get excited over. I tried writing one for Hazel, but it's not really working out well. I think music relates to all arts. It's filled with emotion, passion, effort, heart, and style. Everyone, everything, has its own style. From looks to emotion. But through music, you can learn and understand what the meaning to that style is.

Wow, if I ever told this to the guys, they would beat me like a pulp. Not only for being such a nerd, but for phrasing it like a girl.

Sitting here at Cafe Amour, brings so many thoughts I didn't know I had. Concerns, wishes, hopes, worries, all kinds of stuff. But the best part is seeing Hazel. We talk all the time, sometimes I have the courage to ask her if I can walk her home. It's pretty nice, she doesn't work during the summer, so it's kind of lonely. I need someone that I can talk to about this stuff, without being called a pussy. I guess the choice of calling her to come over isn't an option anymore.

The image of her is just filling my brain to the max right now. Why won't my brain just stop for one second, and enjoy the sight of the park across the street? Because everything I look at reminds me of her. The tree reminds me of how she climbs like a monkey and always stopped so I could catch up to her. The playground reminds me of the time I broke my arm on the monkey bars when I challenged her to a race. I just can't stop thinking about her. Do I really like her that much? Does she like me the same? Even just a little bit? I sure as hell hope so, because that would be amazing.