Title: Spark

Prompt: Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.

It practically made me sick to my stomach. I was here, sitting on my bed, trying to look anywhere but her. I’m sure that if I did look at her, I would just end up staring. It was an awful, constant reminder I needed to shoot myself every day I hung out with her. Among other things. 

I shouldn’t linger in a hug for too long, when she initiated it. 

If she held my hand, I couldn’t intertwine my fingers with them. That was a relationship thing, not a friend thing. 

I couldn’t be the one to initiate any affection whatsoever. If she wanted to lay her head in my lap, fine. But I couldn’t do the same, no matter how badly I wanted to. 

It translated to compliments, too. Even if I wanted to tell her that she looking stunning, breathtaking, and any other overused adjective I could, I couldn’t. I had to settle for understatements, like saying it was “okay” or “nice”. I even had to nitpick at tiny details, like how some color supposedly didn’t suit her according to an article I studied when I thought it looked just fine on her. Everything looked more than fine on her, but when was I going to get the chance to tell her? 

I had been Yerin’s “bestie” for a little over a year now. I had only realized I was hopelessly head over heels for her about two months ago, but that was still enough to be torture. I realized that I liked her one day after we decided to sneak a bottle of alcohol up to my room. She was old enough to drink, but I wasn’t, so we had to sneak it past my older brother. It turned out she was the kind of drunk that got sleepy immediately after consuming alcohol. I, on the other hand, was somehow more alert of ever tiny movement, making me unable to sleep. So for hours, I watched dust float around my room, staring at every corner looking for something to focus on. And then I started to focus on her steady breathing, her hushed murmurs every so often, and the calm that washed over her face. And then I started focusing on my own feelings. I couldn’t deny that my heartbeat was always quick around her, that I always felt hyperaware of myself. I used to think that it was because I admired her. She was an older girl, who was gorgeous and seemed to be the first love of every guy for miles. Of course I would be nervous around her, right? That kind of power needs to be feared. 

But that night, I loomed over her and thought about it, and came to the realization that I liked her. No, it was worse. I loved her. 

But it was too late to even consider letting her know. I had been around her for so long, slept in the same bed as her, seen her practically prancing around for gods sake. She would hate me if she found out. She would think it was invasive and creepy. I knew she would. So I had to hide from her for as long as possible. 

My ability to was faltering. Every time she even mentioned seeing an attractive boy, I felt a little more sick. I could never be that for her, and I hated it. 

She was starting to be more secretive about it, as I began getting worse at hiding my disappointment. Yerin confessed to me the other day that it was because she thought I was lonely, that her conquests only reminded me of my own loneliness. I would be offended if I wasn’t already relieved. But here she was, getting ready for a date while I was forced the watch, picking at the stitching in my sheets. 

“Eunbi,” she began, after checking her reflection in my mostly unused vanity mirror one final time. I turned up to look at her, and she faced me. “I’m gonna be honest with you right now. I’m so sorry for keeping this from you for so long, but I feel like it’s a good time now.” I nodded, as she got up to sit next to me. I scooted over, making room for her while switching my position to cross my legs, so we’d both fit comfortably. 

“Okay.” 

“Have you ever been in love?” She asked earnestly, grabbing my hands and looking into my eyes. I gulped, being for a second before I remembered my routine. 

“Who would I even be in love with?” I looked away, laughing bitterly. It was a miserable situation, really. 

“Well.” She began again, ignoring my comment. “I want to tell you that I think I am. Now.” She smiled brightly. I got passed the butterflies to look at her in confusion.
“With who?” I asked. 

“Remember that guy that I work with? The one that rounds up the shopping carts?” She wasn’t looking at me anymore, instead focusing on tracing the patterns of my comforter with her long nails. 

“Him?” I almost shouted, not believing it. Only a month ago she was complaining that he was a nuisance, not getting the hint that she wasn’t interested. And now she was claiming love? 

“Hear me out.” She began, a smile taking over her face. “I’ve known him for so long, and as much as I thought he was good looking, I couldn’t bring myself to think of him as anything else. Until two weeks ago, he told me he was going on a date. And I couldn’t explain why, I just got so mad. And when he told me about it the next tim