I hate this feeling. I'd love it if I had a chance, but I don't. It's such a serious emotion. It's not just a crush. I'm not infatuated with her. I feel like I'm in love with her. Which seems so typical. But it's not. Right now, the window is open, and a storm is howling. We're watching the thunder, and music is playing, softly. She's singing along. Not to all of it, sometimes she just mouths ever so slightly to the words, but on her favorite lines she sings along gently. She has a beautiful voice. It suits the high notes well. 

Her eyes widen, and she grins at me when lightening flashes. She doesn't get lightening in Boston. Her legs are long, thin, and draped over the arm of the chair. God her voice is beautiful. She's singing so softly. She sounds like a siren. 

She's curled up. Her head is nestled against the back of my rocking chair. She's just closed her eyes, and curled up deeper into it. 

"Can't you see, its just raining, there's no need to go outside."

The song is fitting. I hate this feeling. 

Her shirt's ridden up a bit. Her skin looks so soft. I want to touch her. Just brush my fingers over her hip. She's falling asleep. I feel like I'm in a movie. I wish I was sitting behind her. I wish she was falling asleep in my lap. She looks so small, curled up over there. It reminds me of when I first fell in love with her. 

I can't think. I feel like I shouldn't feel like this. I feel like it shouldn't be this intense. I feel like I'm too young to be this in love. But I am.

For a while, we were laying quietly. No phones, no talking. Just listening to the rain together. She doesn't need to talk, she doesn't need her phone. She's comfortable here. She's comfortable with me. The silence doesn't need to be filled. 

It's so hard to look at her. It's so hard to see her, and feel this way about her, and know she'll always be just out of reach. I just want to look at her. To remember this exact moment. It doesn't feel real to me. It feels like a scene from a movie. Rain on the window, soft music in the background, her, slowly falling asleep, me, slowly falling in love. I hate this feeling.

It's been quiet for some time now, just the music, rain, and the occasional growl of thunder. She loves the rain. And lightening even more so. She looks beautiful. Her stripped t-shirt, riding up just a bit, to show pale skin, and her ripped up skinny jeans, frayed from where she picks at them sometimes. Her face is relaxed, tucked against the soft back of the white armchair. Her hair looks beautiful, wavy and long. I feel like I'm in a movie, and I hate this feeling.

I keep checking the time. Her flight is leaving in a few hours, and she has to go soon. Goodbye is going to be so hard. I won't see her again for so long. We text, but it isn't the same. There's no peaceful silence. I can't see her. She can't hug me. I love it when she does. She holds me tight, and presses her face to my shoulder.

I can't say I'm going to miss her. That doesn't describe it. I don't even know what I'll call it. I'll just watch for now. Commit everything to memory. One of her legs is tucked against the arm of the chair, the other draped over it. Her arms are resting on her tee, white with little navy stripes. She likes stripes. "Mumford and Sons" is playing now. She looks so... soft. These moment with her are so intimate, but not in a romantic way. 

I hate this feeling.

"So close, yet so far," comes to mind. I am intimate with her. But it'll never be romantic. I want to be able to kiss her. I want to hug her for longer. I want it to mean more when we hold hands and cuddle on the couch. It just feels like something is missing. 

Her parents are here. I won't see her again. Not until October.

...

I hated that. I hated saying goodbye. I hated that last hug. It was too short. I keep thinking about when she slept over last year. I didn't know I was gay until I fell in love. 

She's always been close to me. She's always been an affectionate person. She's always held my hand, kissed me on the cheek, and told me I'm beautiful, so of course, when she slept over last year, she shared my bed. She showered first, so when she came in, her hair was still a little wet, and drying back to its natural, wavy state. 

She can't sleep without music playing, so she set up her phone, and curled up. I'd never shared a bed with anyone but my sister, but I liked this. I didn't know why. Not till she fell asleep. I can't fall asleep quickly, so I laid in the darkness, enjoying her warmth.

Then she began to move. She rolled over, and soon her head rested against my shoulder. Then I realized. There was an exact moment, when I realized I was gay. And that I was in love with my best friend. Soon after, I fell asleep, smiling a little. I'd loved that feeling. 

The next morning was the best part. I woke up, and just like in the movies, there she was. Hair a little messy, lips a little parted, sunlight playing across the sheets. It didn't feel real. It felt like a movie. Soft music in the background, and the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, sleeping, not quite in my arms. 

That was when I started to hate that feeling. Because I knew she would always be out of reach, like that door in the nightmares, that, no matter how far you run, you can never reach. She woke up a little while after me. First, shifting a little in her sleep, opening her eyes, pulling the covers up to her ears, then closing her eyes for a little bit longer, enjoying not having to get up for school. I wanted to move closer, put my arm over her waist. I hated that feeling. I felt so close, yet so far. God, I hated that feeling. I felt like I was in a movie. I felt like it couldn't be real. I think it was the music. The soft, beautiful music in the background, making it all seem like a production.

She's gone now, and I feel a little... empty? No. Just... like I'm missing something. That's it. I don't feel like I miss her, I feel like she's missing from me. I feel like I shouldn't have these feelings. They shouldn't be this intense. I shouldn't be in love. I'm just a kid. I hate this. I hate this feeling, but I hate doubting these feelings, too. I hate this. I don't know. I just... I have no idea what to feel. I don't know. 

...

I wonder if she's thinking about me. More, I hope she is. I hope she's looking out the car window now, on her way to the airport, and thinking about how much she'll miss me. 

I hope. 

I don't know.