Curate, connect, and discover
Soooooooo, this is a passage from my fanfic. Harringrove. Cheese as hell, because yeah. Enjoy. I can give the context latter If somebody want. Also: Billy POV.
I loved him. No matter how much I thought about it, trying to find some other explanation, the truth was that I loved him and that I didn't know how to feel about it.
I would say that I've always been a very platonic person if I was going for a definiton for my feelings about the other people I've met. I was like a novelist in my own head, made stories and more stories based on people I got attracted to and was always one of those who liked (or thought so) several people at the same time only because of my ideas of how these people were, because in the end I had everything ready in my head. But what was in his head was never enough, he never got to know these people better, and maybe that's why he never had anything greater than that from them, because it was just fantasy, like the stories his mother used to tell him when he was young.
If someone who followed his story knew that he never really fell in love, them mostly wouldn't believe it. "And all the people you've been with in the past? This all in your "open relationship" (if we were to consider a relationship, since the friendship always came first) that lasted two years! How couldn't this person ever have fallen in love?"
Well, in my defense I have loved things/people, I'm not a heartless person. I loved mathematics, and as everything in it always made sense, I loved my Camaro and the freedom it gave me, I loved the afternoons of sun and as when there is no one left I could run without anybody looking, I loved my friends and all the peculiarities of each one, my mother, or at least the memory of her, loved my sister at least a little bit and how she managed to be a mixture of the parts of me that actualy worked and an essence that came just from her. I loved the sea, the wind and so many other things.
But loving was not being in love. Being in love was a big emotional mess, sometimes I had no idea what to say and at the same time I kinda knew deep inside. I always lose the air with every smile he gave me, because somehow the person gets more and more beautiful the more you like then, which comes to a point that then simply starts to shine for you, not literally, but as a spring aura that makes butterflies fly and all ice melts, it was like a sun. And that's how he knew he was in love, but he was such a noob in it so he had no idea how to deal with it.
Maybe I should tell him, to see how things would be later, and if that might give me some kind of relief. Since Steve had told me that the first time every time the words came out of him I ended up with a silly grin on my face, wanting to respond the same, but I was never very good at opening up about feelings. Once I ended up telling a girl in the elementary that I liked her because we couldn't find a subject to talk about and it was getting weird just staring at each other, I think I've got more cautious of saying those things after she slapped me on the face right on my braces. But that was not the point now.
The point was that now was one of those times when he wanted so much to respond it. Like saying a long speech about how he felt more normal when they were together, just a rough teenager living a normal life, how his mind cleared and he began to regret all the bullshit he ever did even though most have motives behind, about how he sometimes had nightmares in which the past few months had never existed out of his mind and everyone hated him and how it terrified him because Steve was his new and only refuge now. Like saying it all in three small words.