[fic] This Isn't an Ode
Well, less of a fic and more of some stupid stuff I pounded out on Saturday while feeling sorry and stupid about myself.
Title: This Isn't an Ode
Warnings: angst
Summary: It's probably messed up if he's using academic terms.
“Our geometry doesn’t match,” he said, before he broke your heart. But it’s your fault because it’s always been one-sided, you were stupid enough to think maybe it might pan out, he might like you back. And maybe it’s because he’s not into you, you don’t know, but you laugh at the same jokes and he makes you feel comfortable and when you talk about the things you like, which are mostly the same, it feels natural and good and all is right with the world.
But maybe that’s it - maybe because you two are kindred souls it could never work out. Because you feel most comfortable when he’s sighing over his melted strawberry milkshake and pouring out his misadventures with girls. It’s then that you think, maybe this would be nice if we could do this all the time, but maybe all the time doesn’t mean a relationship, it just means this closeness. Closeness enough so you can say, I don’t know, I’m just not looking for something steady right now and it leaves your lips and hopes it hurts him but you know it doesn’t.
He told you once, that he could tell you weren’t interested so he stopped trying but that was never the truth but now you can’t fix it. He said it, and shrugged, perpetual goofy look on his face, and broke your heart then too because he has the ability to break your heart almost every time you see him. Broke your heart, and then turned around and asked if there was a possibility he could maybe score with that cute chick in your dorm and you swallow and say it’s possible.
You’re being dramatic, you know, because if it came down to saving the life of your bro, your ultimate best friend you live with and this boy, you would probably save your bro. Because when it comes down to whom you would go to cry to for your own problems, it isn’t this boy. Because when you lie in bed and think about, if life panned out perfectly, whom you would spend the rest of your life with, it isn’t him. He isn’t a steady presence in your life and easily, you could make it so you could cut him out permanently, never see him again, make it so you wouldn’t suffer these temporary heartbreaks now and again.
You probably fell for him during the first few times you met him, when he introduced himself and said, Hey, you’re? I’m, and he seemed the guy you thought he’d be and you and his friends got along so well you were part of the crowd until you were swept up with your own crowd, grew up with your own friends and when you turned he wasn’t there to make sure you were okay because, after all, he had already been trying to score with another girl when you were becoming friends. He’s fickle and judgmental and sensitive and really not what you need in a significant other but somehow you entertain the thought that maybe, in ideal circumstances, you two would make beautiful music together.
You’re really fucking stupid, you know this, and you think this. But it doesn’t stop you from spending time with him although it’s really counterproductive.
So you keep yourself busy with other boys, because there have been other boys and there will always be other boys but sometimes, sometimes when you hate yourself a little, you hope for that day when he turns to you and says, “…but maybe our chemistry works.”
Title: This Isn't an Ode
Warnings: angst
Summary: It's probably messed up if he's using academic terms.
“Our geometry doesn’t match,” he said, before he broke your heart. But it’s your fault because it’s always been one-sided, you were stupid enough to think maybe it might pan out, he might like you back. And maybe it’s because he’s not into you, you don’t know, but you laugh at the same jokes and he makes you feel comfortable and when you talk about the things you like, which are mostly the same, it feels natural and good and all is right with the world.
But maybe that’s it - maybe because you two are kindred souls it could never work out. Because you feel most comfortable when he’s sighing over his melted strawberry milkshake and pouring out his misadventures with girls. It’s then that you think, maybe this would be nice if we could do this all the time, but maybe all the time doesn’t mean a relationship, it just means this closeness. Closeness enough so you can say, I don’t know, I’m just not looking for something steady right now and it leaves your lips and hopes it hurts him but you know it doesn’t.
He told you once, that he could tell you weren’t interested so he stopped trying but that was never the truth but now you can’t fix it. He said it, and shrugged, perpetual goofy look on his face, and broke your heart then too because he has the ability to break your heart almost every time you see him. Broke your heart, and then turned around and asked if there was a possibility he could maybe score with that cute chick in your dorm and you swallow and say it’s possible.
You’re being dramatic, you know, because if it came down to saving the life of your bro, your ultimate best friend you live with and this boy, you would probably save your bro. Because when it comes down to whom you would go to cry to for your own problems, it isn’t this boy. Because when you lie in bed and think about, if life panned out perfectly, whom you would spend the rest of your life with, it isn’t him. He isn’t a steady presence in your life and easily, you could make it so you could cut him out permanently, never see him again, make it so you wouldn’t suffer these temporary heartbreaks now and again.
You probably fell for him during the first few times you met him, when he introduced himself and said, Hey, you’re? I’m, and he seemed the guy you thought he’d be and you and his friends got along so well you were part of the crowd until you were swept up with your own crowd, grew up with your own friends and when you turned he wasn’t there to make sure you were okay because, after all, he had already been trying to score with another girl when you were becoming friends. He’s fickle and judgmental and sensitive and really not what you need in a significant other but somehow you entertain the thought that maybe, in ideal circumstances, you two would make beautiful music together.
You’re really fucking stupid, you know this, and you think this. But it doesn’t stop you from spending time with him although it’s really counterproductive.
So you keep yourself busy with other boys, because there have been other boys and there will always be other boys but sometimes, sometimes when you hate yourself a little, you hope for that day when he turns to you and says, “…but maybe our chemistry works.”