A love story, with a bit of negligence.

Climax

That day I accidentally said, "I love you," because sometimes I don't think before I speak.

We were in my living room, in a walking room that my friends and I were unaware of, and it wasn't as good as we imagined. There was a king's two doors always watching us, you know what he did, my friend knew what he did, I forgot, it was a sunny day, you had to leave quickly, I was very scared, I think I was just shocked.

But we both still stood there, we were in the storage room, you said back, you were really despicable, just like it was obvious, like the simplest thing in the world to tell someone, tell me this, like you might have known for a while, not realizing you needed to tell me, because I would never figure it out myself -

I didn't know how to believe you.

Exhibition

When I met you, I didn't realize it at first. I started to feel those things. Again. When I did, I tried to stay quiet. Because I didn't want to scare you. Because I was pretty sure I had a bit of wildfire, and you never asked someone to clear your life. Because I would selfishly hope you would stick around anyway. Because of those stupid, unreasonable feelings.

In fact, I awkwardly wanted you to cut through my nonsense and defenses, to let me spill out like blood. I wanted to let you know me. Then, I hoped you would choose me, and keep choosing me on purpose, I wanted you to prove you meant something to a girl who didn't yet know love without bruises yet.

I wanted to yield to my feelings, because I never knew what came next was love, and (even so) I found I wanted to learn. I wanted to feel that kind of love I couldn't ignore, I couldn't pretend it wasn't there, and I also hoped you could feel so obsessed with the love I imagined it could be - well, I was sure that was love, I was sure this time it was good.

I wanted something that could make me believe in miracles.

I wanted the first thing that could make me long for staying.

Action Rising

When we met, I was dating someone else.

That was at the bar, and to be honest, I was mainly out with him for the promised motorcycle ride (that part was exhilarating). I didn't realize, in the few ways I could see, he was actually a major creep.

It was a cash-only bar, one that had been around long enough to organically develop a surface look covered in stickers and graffiti. It was still evening, he and I were at the table, you were standing at the bar, but I still didn't know you were you.

He went to the bathroom, and I realized, preparing to leave, he picked me up, I was really worried he would ride home just passing me by. Refusing to panic, I hurried to the bar and asked the nearest stranger if they minded creating an awkward person, so no one could get close to me. They were happy to.

They included you.

It worked. My date left. Then, you and I somehow started talking, and as a small crowd dispersed again, I found I wanted to stay longer. I felt safe. I wanted to talk to you. I don't know what pheromones or neurochemical reactions caused this, but I was grateful for them.

I told you I thought your eyes were beautiful, and you asked me for my phone number.

Action Falling

You said (afterwards) you hoped your love was enough.

I hoped so too.

Resolution

Now I finally understand exactly why it was almost unknown that what you told my friends was true, and it was obvious, I was the only one who couldn't see it: the look you wore in old photos, which I stumbled upon, only when you were 'with me and no one else. Because that knowledge now benefits me greatly. I didn't see it then, and it drove me crazy. That damn look -

the expression said you wanted to be exactly your place in that moment and elsewhere.

The expression said the reason I buried my head in your shoulder was that I said something ridiculous, and you were laughing at me.

The expression of saying you love me. I just didn't know yet.