undeveloped film

queen of aces: crushes

A/N: hello! i hope everyone is doing well! (EDIT: i moved this from its own story to this collection of half-finished work and oneshots, so if this feels familiar, that's why) so this is just a blurb that i've been toying with to expand? i have drafts and ideas of expanding this as a sort of exploration into figuring out identity, life and all that shit out , in a narrative/reflection format, but tbh, that plan is largely dependent on having time and inspiration for this specifically, so this is v much on the back burner. so for now, i'm saying that this is it for this story, but never say never! i may come back to it later, or add other excerpts that i have lurking on my computer. but yeah, i wanted to get this out, because i was actually happy with how it turned out. thank you for reading! much love do good, be well. <3

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HE WAS MISSING two of his teeth and his smile was perpetually crooked, but she felt special whenever he smiled at her. She first met him in kindergarten, when she decided that he was cuter than the other boys in her class and that she liked him.

He was small, like her, but his presence was so big. He felt like the sun, blinding and warm and tugging at those around him with his gravitational pull. He was kind, and he was funny, and he burped the alphabet when she said there was no way he could, with a delighted and proud grin on his face.

She called him gross, and from that day onwards he would be known as Burpalot (a name of terrific creative genius), but he still smiled at her and she still smiled back.

He was her friend.

He was her first crush.

But she never admitted to it, instead crossing her small arms petulantly when her friends asked her if she liked him, haughtily shaking her head 'no why would i like Burpalot?'.

As the years wore on and they made their way into grade three, now growing limbs and odd-senses of fashion, it was a rite passage to like him. He was just the perfect crush- kind, funny, smart, athletic, cute. The picture perfect crush.

But she always felt that it was different for her. He was her friend, they decided that one day when they were 4, racing on the asphalt (she asked if they were friends and he instantly said 'yes, of course', his answer as clear as day, and she still remembers his smile, like the sun). He was her friend first, and he was her crush second, and he was different.

But she was always content to observe from afar, admire from a distance, not longing or wistful, but content to like him in the way she did, when she still spoke to him everyday and still liked him, but didn't let it show or do anything about it.

She feels that in some other reality, maybe she would have said something. Maybe in some world, somewhere, something could have worked out. But she left him and her old school behind her by grade four, and so that reality passes, never to be hers again.

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THE NEXT ONE was another boy, this one with a shy smile and wide eyes, over-eager to prove himself, tripping over his tiny legs. He was delicate, large eyes and pretty face, bony and small. The first time she sees him, she tells herself that this is her new crush.

To her, a crush is a fun thing, an easy thing, a harmless way to preoccupy her mind and to spend time. Besides, he's too pretty not to admire from her distance - always kept - with his button nose and restless legs. His eyes are the prettiest, she decides from her distance. They hardly speak a word all year, and she can't bring herself to feel too torn up.

It's just a crush.

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SHE IS HARDLY a girl to give up, so it makes sense that her crushes don't go away simply either. For the next few years, it's fine. They barely speak and the distance makes admiring so much easier, so he's just a way to fill up spare seconds when she finds herself with nothing to do.