The Smell Of Spray Paint

Five.

My crush on Gilbert had turned into something romantic.

It dawned on me one day as I woke up late and found a note from him beside my breakfast after he had already left for work.

I read the note over and over, I could recite it now, it said 'I left but you were still sleep so here is food! Have an awesome time' and then there was a winking smiley face.

There was nothing extraordinary about it, it was just a note from the guy who got me breakfast, it wasn't trying to be cute or make me curl up and hold it to my chest, gripping it so hard me knuckles went white but it was cute and I did do that. His hand writing was loopy and not at all what I expected and it was written on a yellow post-it note that I'd seen him use for reminders.

It was the sweetest thing I had ever seen.

And that's when it hit me, I really liked him.

I like liked him. The 'I wish you would look at me in a way that makes me feel like I'm the only thing that matters' like.

But I didn't doubt that I had absolutely no chance with him, I was some quiet four-eyes who just leeched off him and although the limited food had slimmed me a little, I was chubby when put next to his lean but strong athletic body. I was seventeen. He was twenty-two. I wore the most unfashionable glasses because my mom wanted the cheap ones and my clothes were always so big that any of my better assets were covered under heaps of grubby fabric.

I wasn't desirable like he was. And I would just have to accept that. I bet there were loads of people who liked Gilbert like I did, or at least liked the look of him, he was probably straight anyway. I had no chance.

It didn't come as a big surprise that I had a romantic crush on Gilbert, I had always known that I liked boys as well as girls and if I was going to fall for any boy, the good looking one who was endearingly cocky and somehow charming was kinda the obvious choice.

And there was plenty times where I doubted myself when I tried to tell myself that I had a crush on Gilbert only because I envied his free uncaring lifestyle.

Like the time last week when he was drunk, like he always is on a Saturday night and blew a kiss at me and I melted.

He almost made out with me too, I was backed up against the wall and it looked like he was leaning in but then burped and fell about laughing. That night was sorta disappointing and stressful.

In my quieter moments alone I also felt terrible. I wanted Gilbert, all of him but gave nothing back to him. Our whole relationship was built on my lies, that I was a tourist who needed somewhere to stay during my trip to Berlin. Not a runaway who came here because I wanted to get off the train and this was the next stop, not that I was all over the papers and news, he was just too oblivious to modern news to notice, not that I came here to get attention, and the only reason I was here was because I got it from him and had lost interest in getting it from the family and the whole freaking world media. More time had passed, it was almost a month since we had started living together now, and though I wasn't big news anymore I still had to keep my head down. I was just relieved that Gilbert hadn't noticed anything.

I curled up on his mattress, having another period of self-loathing, smelling him on his blanket and loving it but hating that I loved it at the same time. And eating a packet of cookies that I bought as a treat for myself on the promise that I would never spend five Euros on such an unnecessary purchase again.

There was noise behind me and I turned to see Gilbert entering, dumping down his bag,

"Why are you on my bed?" He looked at me like I was doing something completely absurd.