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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1500004-The-Question
Rated: E · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1500004
A short story describing the feelings of fear and excitement of first love. A question!
As he approached her, his hope took a fast nosedive. The regretful optimism he'd thrived on for so long melted away with each and every shaky step, leaving behind a dark, cynical skeleton; the foundation of his first love. So it seemed that the only thing moving him forward was not the blissful yearning that had betrayed him so, but fear. Fear of lying in bed awake one more night, remorseful. Fear of thinking of her again, the coveted treasure he did not possess, but cherished all the more. Fear of being too late.... Fear brought him to her, called her name, and held its breath. He waited, and watched.

She turned to him, a quick, simple action that he watched with the precision of an Olympic judge. He payed extra attention to how her silky smooth hair fell over her shoulder when she turned to face him. For a moment, her alluring eyes met his, sending his skeleton to its grave. He felt healed by her momentary glance, and by the time she looked away, he was alive once again.

"Yeah?" she asked in an unreadable tone that would spare him no further hope. She fidgeted and squirmed, eagerly.

He breathed in for comfort, and found that it eased his shaking muscles a bit. He let air rush through his lungs for a few moments, to calm himself.

"Um, I-" the words halted, unable to continue. They froze in his throat, choking him. His shaking returned.


I love you, he thought hopelessly, I love you in a way that I never thought possible. The feelings I have for you are those that can be in no way expressed, by the greatest writers in the world. I love to watch you. I love to listen to you. I love to say your name, and I love to hear you say mine. I love it when you look at me, even though you always look away. I love you.

She cocked her head to the side, and he couldn't help but smile. His heart continued to pound into his ribcage, as though trying to escape. So, what better thing to do than to pour his heart out? It seemed so simple, a little kid could do it. Just a few simple words.

"I... want...." That was all he could manage. The roller coaster of thoughts started again, and this time was particularly nauseating.


I want to be with you, all the time. I want to see you smile at me. I want to see you happy, and know that it's because of something I've done. I want to reach out and hold your hand without thinking twice about it. I want to pass you notes during class. I want to cheer you up when you're down, and protect you from anyone who means harm. I want to be a part of your life, and who you are, even if it is only for a short time.

The words built up like cars in an accident, violent and disorganized. He felt his emotions run into each other, confusing him, breaking his concentration, they found nowhere to run. He closed his eyes, contemplating his escape-- maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"Well...?" she questioned, snapping him back to attention. She was starting to grow impatient, but waited nonetheless.

He sighed. Okay. Six words. Six words and it would be over with.

"Will...."

Six little words.

"Will you...."

They refused.


Will you notice me? Will you look at me? Will you take the time of day to include me into your thoughts? Will you even remember my face? My NAME? Will you, will you remember the boy who loved you so much back then, who poured his heart out on the linoleum floor, happy to get rid of it, but afraid of what would happen next?

Will you?


He clenched his fists, ready to burst. The adrenaline rush pounding through his veins was now his only hope. Somehow, he had to tell her. If not, it would end here. He couldn't live with it.

And so, he pieced the words together.


I love you

He pieced together the only words in his vocabulary. Six little words, that would have to suffice.

I want to be with you.

These words did not even scratch the surface of what he wanted to say, but they would have to suffice. The simplest words he knew, that expressed so little, but would have to explain so much.

Will you accept me?

He had the six words ready at his lips, eager to go. He breathed in, smiled, and let them go.



"Will you go out with me?"
© Copyright 2008 Hoshi-chan (hoshikagura at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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