“I’m honestly just so sick and tired of this all”, I said to him. I watched his face grow dim, as the depth of the situation sank into his fading eyes.The blue of each iris was almost completely drained, the color of his already pale face had vanished. “There isn’t really anything I can do. I’m just done.” My words trailed off.

“I don’t get why it has to be like this though. Why is everything so complicated? Why do you even care?”, he demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I replied dryly.
“No, not at all. I’ve spent a year trying to figure you out. Your complexity. Your mind. Your heart. And I just couldn’t do it. You’re too... you’re too you.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? Honestly, Cal, the fact that we even have to have this conversation, the fact that you haven’t figured me out, or this friendship or whatever this is out, that’s the problem”. I was becoming angry now. I wasn’t very sure why.

“Wait. What do you mean ‘whatever this is’? I’m sick of the mind games, Stacey. You say you can’t do it anymore. Well I mean, it’s a two way street.”

“I can not believe you. All you do is play games. This girl, then that girl. Then mess around with me. Don’t you remember the first night we all spent together, the whole group? The originals? Don’t you remember how you practically led me on, just to start making out with some girl you barely even knew. And to make matters worse, during that, you grabbed my hair by mistake. My hair. Do you realize how much you’ve meant to me? How much I admired you up until that night that changed everything for us? Remember how as you and she moved to the floor, you whispered ‘don’t worry girl, I still love you’ into my ear? I mean seriously. What is your problem. I loved you. You were my best friend, and sometimes my only friend. We were invincible, you said so yourself. The poem you wrote me, signed with your love in a text at two in the morning. The personal secrets and histories I shared with you. The awkward moments that we’ve encountered that most people wouldn’t. And then, you met some girl, and after five hours, you decided she was going to be more important than me. Me, the girl who was the same person as you. Remember how incredible we felt when we found each other? And now we don’t even talk. You give me none of your time, and I’m constantly pushed aside and left in the dark. How do you think that makes me feel? I thought, who knows, we might be building a relationship or something. You just don’t find a connection like that nowadays. Wasted. What a shame. And you couldn’t even piece it together in your own twisted mind. I can’t be your backup plan anymore. I just can’t.” I caught my breath and looked up. His mind was somewhere else. Probably months ago, to that night. The worst and best night of my life all in one. I know my words had cut deep, but they were a long time coming.

“I don’t know what to say. All of this time, I thought you were blowing me off, you weren’t interested. You don’t date guy friends because you love them too much. That night, that girl, I just-”

“You just don’t know, right? Why’d you do it? Why her? Why in a room full of people.” I started off again.

“I don’t really have an excuse. You know I don’t know anything about myself anymore.” He shrugged, guilt swelling in his eyes.

“That’s not true. You know me better than I do, and I know you better than yourself. Remember? Remember those words? We are each other. I am you. You are me. That’s not changing anytime soon. I just don’t get how if you can read me so well, how come you couldn’t see I was falling in love with you from the start?”

“You were?” He sounded shocked beyond belief.
“Of course. How could I not?” I was crying. Months of tears and words alike were gushing out of every part of me. How could he not see how much he meant? I flashed back to the first night we had talked.

This is just so amazing to me, Stacey. I’ve never met somebody I could feel so alive with. We can talk about anything and everything and you don’t judge me based on the mistakes I’ve made, and I love that. I can tell that this is going to be great.
Tears were streaming at this point. I was so unsure how to react. What to say next. What not to say. Maybe I should have just left. But he looked at me, and I recognized the passion and sweet sadness in his eyes. His voice was soft and almost goofy, the same way he whispered his love on that awful night with that awful girl. “You know,” he began, “ I knew that there was something about you. You were just so feisty. Fiery. I’m not sure if I will ever figure you out. Remember those anonymous questions, where the asker wanted to figure you out? I’m sure you guessed, but it was me. It was always me. I just want to know what goes on in that head of yours. I’m never too sure. And yeah, sometimes you talk way too much. To the point where I want to physically rip your tongue out. But then, I realize, I love the sound of your voice. I love how angry you get over little things and politics, and you rant online about it, when nobody cares. And you know that they don’t, and you still do it. I questioned you, I asked if you tried too hard to be different. But you’re you. And you’re imperfectly perfect. I would not change you, ever. I would never want to lose you. Stacey. Stop pushing me away by thinking too much. I pick you. I do, Stace, I pick you.”