“I’m at the playground near your house; could you come down for a moment?” With that text message sent, so went his last shreds of pride and dignity.

Confessing was not one of his “standard routines” – if anything, he was always the one being confessed to instead – neither was it one of his fortes. And what made everything harder was how distant the girl was regardless of his efforts in breaking through that barrier – it saddened him a little, but knowing her and the fact that she doesn’t open up to people easily, he was glad that she even considered him as an acquaintance.

She has yet to even reply his message and he could already feel the embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. Call him cocky, but he’d never thought a day like this would come: a day whereby he would have to confess to a girl first, since girls are always after him. He actually wished the earth’s core would suddenly open up and just swallow him, hiding him in the pits of darkness.

While in the midst of his thoughts, a girl dressed in a grey tank and a pair of white shorts, came approaching the boy. Seeing the boy lost in his own thoughts, she awkwardly took a sit next to him, being extra cautious so that she wouldn’t distract him. However, her plan went straight to the gutter as soon as she settled next to him.

“Hi.” He greeted almost as soon as his vision fell upon her. She replied with a small nod of her head, along with a small smile while uttering a greeting back – one he could hardly audible, yet at the same time, one that he learnt to appreciate. A pregnant silence then fell upon the two: with none of the two willing to break that ice, they sat there in silence for a good whole minute.

During that short period of silence, he scanned the girl’s appearance – what used to be her bright, pink lips were now fading into a light shade of pink from the coldness. The fact that she was only clad in a thin piece of cardigan made everything much worse. Without another thought put into it, he peeled off his leather jacket; gently laying it over the girl’s shivering shoulders.

“You don’-“ “It’s fine, I’m not cold.” He replied gently with a smile on his face, and at that moment, she swore it could warm her up no matter the weather. Gratefully, she hugged the jacket closer to herself, inhaling the smell of his cologne lingering on the jacket. At his message, she rushed out of the house, only grabbing the two things she deemed as important and convenient, respectively – her mobile phone and her cardigan. Though the moment she left the elevator, she regretted grabbing the most convenient outer wear she could find: however, this – her wearing his jacket – made everything worth it.

“So…” He tried to break the ice – it was his idea to call her out at such inappropriate hours, might as well man up to it, no? However, as soon as her dark orbs stared into his, he felt his status as a man threatened. How could a man – who’s lived almost two decades of his life – be so easily flustered by such subtle actions? He didn’t understand, and at that point, nothing made sense to him. In an attempt to salvage whatever’s left of his manhood, he tried to finish his sentence however; his brain was way too caught up with her jaw-dropping, doll like appearance to actually produce anything coherent.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks – once again – coloring them into a light shade of pink. He was horribly thankful for the dim lighting of the park – if not, he’d be running straight back home along with the last few pieces of what he would desperate put together, and call his pride. “Okay, I’m just going to go straight to the point.” He whispered softly; almost as if prep talking himself, instead of conversing with the girl. Nonetheless, she felt obliged to nod her head. “I like you; as in, more than just friends.” He uttered quickly – almost as quickly as he wanted her to reply. It didn’t matter the answer, he just wanted to get this done and over with.

Her jaw dropped a little; she opened , though she does not have any intention of replying the boy. Or at least, she had no idea what to tell him. Just like him, she had no experience with confessing or dating – at least, he had girls confessing to him, she had none of those. At this point, she wished she watched more television dramas – maybe then she would have a clue on how to react to this.

While in the midst of trying to put together a coherent reply, he cut her train of thoughts. “You don’t have to reply me now.” He quickly answered, his eyes showing only genuine care and concern; so much so that it wavered the girl’s heart. To be honest, she didn’t even know what to feel about this: bittersweet? She always liked him, but he just felt way out of her league. While he was popular – a jock, even – she was on the other end of the spectrum, she was just an average student. She didn’t receive special attention; neither did she want the special attention on her.

Surreal: that was how she felt about the confession. It wasn't always that the one you like would reciprocate to your feelings.

His eyes lingered longer on her expressionless face – he was never intimidated by what others claimed to be her “ face”, but seeing her straight face now, it frightened him a little. Rather than what she thought about him, he was more worried about how she would react to this. He liked her a lot, so much so that he didn’t want this confession to break their friendship – even so, he still confessed. “If you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay. Just forget what I said.” Still, she remained silent. Taking that as a wordless rejected, he stood up, ready to walk her back home. Sure, getting rejected was embarrassing, but he wouldn’t risk her safety for something so self-centered as his pride.

“I understand,” a dry fake laughter rang through the empty playground, “come on, I’ll bring you home.” As he was about to walk up, assuming she was already up, a small hand reached up, tugging on his wrist. He cocked his head to the side, curious and worried. The glint of worry in his eyes only made things harder for the girl – honestly, she had every intention to right out reject him despite harboring feelings for him, he was just too different from her. But seeing how she acted regardless of her hesitance towards him, his caring nature still stood as it was.

“I…” His eyes furrow in confusion at what she was about to say, “What’s wrong?” His eyes searched all over her, assuming she was injured somewhere. If she was about to reject the boy because of their difference in leagues, then she's definitely injured in the head. At once, she shook her head. She was about to tell him how she really felt about him – that she felt the same way – but decided against it. It wasn't as if the world was ending tonight: she still had an abundance of time to tell him about her feelings.

With that, she stood up and warily followed the boy: while she did want to tell him about her feelings, she wondered if replying too soon would come off as being shameless. She figured it was cons over pros and brushed the feeling of her heavy heart aside.

The walk back to her home was just awkward: neither wanted to speak, it was back to square one. More than anything, she hated the tension between them: usually he would initiate conversations with her, but it seemed as if he wasn't interested. She wondered if he had already lost interest for her. Maybe she was too used to him being so intiative that she had grown used to that treatment, naturally feeling that entitlement to his attention and affection.

Gentle and affectionate: not to mention, a boy who she does take interest in, and vice versa. She must be dumb to brush his confession off just like that: probably the first, too. Still, she couldn't help it. Slowly, she felt her insecurities catching up with herself: if he genuinely likes her, he was probably aware of all her flaws. What if she opened up to him and he figured he didn't like her enough, and they eventually break up? Even after she opened up so much to him? She wanted to trust the boy, but her pride didn't allow it. Warily, she glanced over at the boy. He walked with his head hung low, turning to his side occasionally, almost as if he was trying to avoid any form of eye contact with her. Would such gentle being really hurt her this way?

Feeling her gaze boring through the side of his head, he looked up only to meet eyes with her, so very awkwardly. He hated the awkward atmosphere just as much as her, if not more. Maybe confessing wasn't the right decision after all? "Don't feel burdened by that." As selfish as it was, he still wanted to remain friends with the girl. By now, her eyes already faltered onto the concrete ground. "You don't have to give me an answer now," he paused, "or ever. I just thought you should know."

"If you don't mind, I still want to remain friends. But, if you don't, I'll understand. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." Without knowing, his words were throwing her into a never ending guilt trip. She wasn't friends with him for the longest, but she knows him well enough to know that he wasn't this type of person. Aside that, he was willing to give up being friends with her, just for her comfort: was she really going to give up such a guy?

She nodded in acknowledgement: however, he took it the wrong way. "It's understandable, I came off to aggressive, didn't I?" He joked, but his eyes said otherwise. Awkwardly, he found his palm resting on his nape, rubbing it in a slow motion. Saying nothing more, he continued walking.

There was no doubt that he was hurt, yet he didn't want to put her through the same misery he was going through. If she thought this was best for them, then it will be best for them. Even if he doesn't like it, he'll learn to live with it. His eyes landed ona familar apartment complex: he sighed internally, the night was coming to an end. More importantly, this was probably the last time they would get to talk like that. Sure, it was awkward: but as long as it was with her, he would be alright with anything.

"You must be cold, go in." A loving smile spread across his face, and with that, he walked off. However, before he could go any further a wary, yet tender touch gripped on lightly to his fingers: he knew it too well, it was her attempt to get her attention. Before he could respond, she shot to the tip of her toes, elevating her height to match with his, eventually planting a brief peck against his cheek. Swiftly, she rested back onto her soles: her eyes glued to the opposite direction of the boy, her cheeks colored in a deep shade of red, indicating her embarrassment.

Unknowingly, his fingers brushed against where her lips touch: his face lit up like a child's on Christmas Day. "You said you didn't like m-" At once, she stared into his and he immediately understood her- he misunderstood her.

"You're so coy," he says with a smile.