Loving you is a losing game.

Pink hair,
a smile that could blind the most unpure of souls,
kindness that anyone can take advantage,
eyes so intimidating as if they can see right through anybody,
loyalty like a dog,
a sense of justice that can make anybody cower,
and a body that could make anybody feel lust.

He hated it.

How could he easily have what he always wanted?
How could he live easily, freely and loved?
How? How? How?
He wished and prayed that he too can be love and be loved,
He wished he was him,
He was obsessed.

The feeling within him blossomed throughout the years, he started to call it as hate,
started to treat it as it was that lovely pink haired persons fault. It was not.

White hair,
eyes as clear as the sky,
skin paler than snow,
a face that can make anybody turn their heads back,
he was gorgeous,
he was like a prince,
he treated him preciously
and yet why is he being treated so coldly?

"Why?! Why do you hate me so much?"

"Must there be a reason to hate you?"