What fickle things emotions are, I thought.

Before me, stood the young man who wasted his adolescence in pursuit of an impossibile love. Everyone knew his was the sort of love destined to perish before it could even blossom. He was made aware of it countless times, but he ignored them all the same.

“You should move on. I don’t think she will ever realise you have feelings for her.”

“You can’t be sure,” he whined on the way home. “If I try hard enough, maybe someday she will finally notice me.”

What fickle things emotions are, I chanted over and over again. I observed the contours of his annoyingly handsome face against the backdrop of a dying sun, trying to ignore the growing ache in my chest. Why did it have to be him of all the people in the world?

“What if you fall in love with someone else?”

“Who?“

Me. Fall in love with me instead.

“Me?“

He barked out a laughter, followed by a light punch on my left shoulder. The fleeting impact was enough to burn me alive. He doesn’t know it. He never will. Would he even know if I were to disappear? Why should it matter to me what he thinks?

“Good one, Akko. You say the weirdest stuff sometimes. I’m glad we became good friends.”

What fickle things emotions are.