My palms shook like anything.

I was never nervous before, not like this— not ever.

I’m strong and confident and cool, and I could have anything I wanted. I’m the shit. So I didn’t know why I was so anxious, because there was no margin of error.

Nevertheless, I still hunched down, wiping my sweaty palms along the outside of my jeans, sighing.

Reluctantly, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a crumpled paper, scribbled words across its surface. I had written down what to say in the emergency where I forget. I hadn’t planned to use it— I hated that I made it in the first place; writing the paper was nerdy enough, but needing to use it is like admitting a weakness. (Which I do not have).

My red eyes vigorously scanned the paper, taking in the words for the umpteenth time before shoving it back into my pocket with determination and rushing as fiercely as I could into the school gym, where I knew he would be training alone.

The door slammed open, but in my mind it all worked in slow motion; like a movie. The sound echoed across the plains of the area. I hated how bright the lights were beginning to seem, blinding my eyes.

I stumbled through the doors, my determined face still in rolling to overshadow my embarrassment.

And then I saw him, sitting down on the bleachers all the way across the gym. He looked tired, like he was just taking a break while he drank a bottle of water in one go and wiped the glistening sweat from his perfect skin.

I took a moment to admire his beauty. His pale skin, cutely place constellation of freckles, plump dark curls. Why had I been so ignorant of it in the past? I could have seen all of this, for so much longer.

The boy spotted me, face lighting up as he capped the near empty water bottle in his hands and launched himself from the bleachers, skipping to me.

I loved it when he did that. Yeah, sure— maybe my ego is large enough. But from him, it’s not like that; from him, he grounds me, and encourages me, and makes me feel even more confident than I already am. I feel loved, as well. But I’ve learned over time not to take it for granted.

“Hey Keith.”

He chirped brightly with that ear to ear grin of his, standing right infront of me as I stared down at him. He was shorter than me- by a lot, too. But I found that cute. I mean, the guy is the personification of my type, after all.

“Hey, Iker-“

“Wow, real naming me, huh? No- ‘hey stupid’?”

He interrupted me with a giggle. I just shook my head. Usually when people interrupt me I’d flare up in anger but I didn’t care right now.

“No. I really need to talk to you.” I said, a hint of desperation accidentally seeping through.

Iker seemed taken aback by this. His eyebrows furrowed, face falling as he stood still and waited for me patiently. “Okay…”

I stuffed my left hand inside my pocket, clutching the not forgotten ball of paper in my hands for some kind of comfort, as if holding it would help me speak.

I don’t lie, and I don’t beat around the bush. My personal motto is to do exactly what I want as quickly as I can. This was no different.

“Iker…. Shit…I just wanted to say I have feelings for you. You know… like, for a while now or whatever.” I said, mumbling towards the end. My stupid heart was trying to kill me or something. My world felt blackened as he held me precarious through turmoil and victory.

Love was stupid.

Iker looked confused more than anything, but there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes that I caught just in time for my heart to plummet.

“What do you mean ‘feelings’?” He asked. Yeah, he knew what I meant. I knew what I meant. We both knew and that made me angry. Was it at him? At myself?

I huffed and rolled my eyes in reflex. “Dammit you know what I mean. I like you and shit. Like I want to be more than friends.” I admitted. God, I was just embarrassing myself.

Iker visibly paled, glancing away in disdain.

Okay, this is not what I had expected. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to say yes and cry happy tears and jump into my arms and we’d be happy forever.

But here I am, ego bruised and about to cry like any idiot I hate.

His opinion matters like all the stars in the sky to me; why, I didn’t quite know. Maybe that’s the work of love.

“I- I don’t… what? Are you serious?” He asked worriedly.

There was no backing out for me.

“Yes.” I said plainly, practically trembling.

But I tried to hide it.

“Keith… I’ve known you since we were kids. You used to bully me, even.”

He started. And yeah, that hit hard.

“And I really just… have a hard time believing you… like me like that.”

Dammit.

How do I prove it to him? And even if I could prove my affection for the guy, would it even matter? Would he even love me back?

“I do. I’ve tried to hide it for the past year like an idiot, but I just… wanted to be honest whether you believe it or not. I wanted you to know that what I feel for you isn’t platonic. And I know you feel that it is. Platonic. Like you said, I’ve bullied you since forever, I’m an ass, and I’m probably no romantic.”

I rambled, starting to sound like the nerd myself. Maybe it was a habit from listening to him mumble day in and day out.

Iker faltered. Seeming to be swooned by my words.

But I wouldn’t believe it until I heard him say it.

“No. I mean yes. Or uh, okay… so, I had liked you too… but that was a long time ago. I’ve gotten over my feelings.” He started.

“I appreciate your feelings for me, and they’re not wrong at all! Keith, it’s okay. I still love you. A-as a friend, you know?” He quickly clarified with a nervous air, waiving his hands with a wobbly smile. Even in this situation, he was trying to comfort me

Friend.

Yeah, friend. I’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. Everything would fine.

Love was stupid.