100 Souls, 100 Moments

100 Souls, 100 Moments- 15.080: Words

I liked how Soul would whisper promises and sweet nothings into my ear that would make me tingle all the way down to my shoe enclosed toes before that sensation would jump back up to my spinning head that was dizzy from, not his handsome cologne, but his candied words.

Sometimes I would wonder why he looked at me, a plain girl who had nothing going for her rather then her brain. Even though I'm suppose to be the smartest student in our high-school, I never quite understood just why he liked ME. Why would he, one of the most popular and charming guys in all four grades, go for a girl like me who dreamed more about tests then a perfect prom?

"Why do you love me?"

"Because you're different Maka."

I never figured out also just how...HOW in the world he liked me more then the fluttering eyelash, makeup wearing, C cup popular girls that would constantly hand on him when they thought I wasn't looking. Was it the scars on my knees from running and falling during track? Was it the way I would eat my ice-cream so slow it would start to melt and drip down on my hands? Or maybe it was the way I tilted my head when I told him in a tiny, little little voice that I...might love him too.

Yet no matter how hard I tried to control my heart I couldn't stop it from skipping a beat when he'd say the same in a warm breath on my neck.

"You're so pretty when you say that." He continued to whisper after his breezy confession.

Yet I don't answer as an overly protective and nagging voice in the back of my head snorts and says he doesn't mean it. He's a beautiful liar whose perfected the most confusing art of all.

I don't want to believe him because I know that never, not even in the attempted feel-good movies or cheesy TV shows, that the plain and boring girl ever got the boy. At the most, a girl like me would get the supporting role and would watch with happy eyes as my beautiful best friend snagged the guy in a teary eyed night with a full moon and shooting stars.

And with those thoughts, tears would always come to my emerald eyes. I knew that Soul thought they were tears of happiness and joy at him saying those words of affection that every girl wished to hear and he would pull away from my warm skin for a second to smile, showing those sharp teeth that seemed to be like a bear trap I'd willingly gone into. I knew I'd been caught and snapped in half the first time he'd grinned at me when he'd first called me out during lunch all those days ago. When I think back, I still don't really know why I said yes.

I think it was those crimson eyes that sparkled with something I'd never seen before.

"Now you're beautiful." He would sigh as his lips meet mine in a sweet way that would somehow turn heated as we stood in the empty hallway, everyone else eating lunch without a clue. His hands would get lost in my shirt as he grabbed me closer to him and mine in his soft silver hair.

Yet whenever he said I was beautiful, I would repeat to myself that I was NOT beautiful ten times more. I had always been taught it wasn't good to lie.

I went on and told myself that I wasn't going to get a happy ever after like in so many books I'd read and that soon he was going to tire of me and break up without so much as a sad expression. I told myself I shouldn't let myself get sucked into his flawless appearance and moves because guys like him don't go for girls like me.

I chanted that to myself every time our eyes locked across the room and he'd lazily smirk, when we held hands, or when he stole a kiss from my pale pink lips without warning and without hesitation.

So why did it hurt so much when it finally DID happened?

"Goodbye."

That one simple word that I'd heard hundreds, maybe even thousands, of times before hurt more then anything in my entire life. Even more then when I'd woken up after getting my wisdom teeth pulled or when I'd jumped off the swings when I was ten and had busted open my thigh on a rock, having to get seventeen stitches without anesthesia because the doctor had to act fast to stop the bleeding.

As I tried to form words, my throat felt more raw then when I had had strep throat during a hiking excursion and I felt like my lungs were being crushed from the inside out, every breath feeling like iron wool that was scarring me as I tried to regain my breathing and start up my heart again.

But I knew it was all for nothing.

I knew it had already shut down and wasn't going to start up again anytime soon as I watch him saunter away with his hands jammed his pant pockets as if nothing even remotely important had just happened.

Hadn't I been anticipating this the entire time?

Hadn't I prepared for this?

Then tell me why, even now as he isn't in front of me anymore, I can still see his face. Tell me why, even though he isn't touching me, I still get goose-bumps when I think about his thin and artistic hands.

When I went home that day, I bolted straight to my room and took out my sharpie from my worn messenger bag, the same one that he'd used not days ago to draw a small heart on my hand that was still somehow faintly inked in my skin. I would scrub it raw later tonight.

So with vision slightly impaired with ugly, salty tears, I wrote all over myself the one thing that kept repeating in my head that was the only real truth in the world I knew right then:

BOYS DO NOTHING BUT BREAK HEARTS

DON'T LISTEN TO A WORD

A/N: Yes..Thats true..That's True..I didn't type thet *BOYS DO NOTHING BUT BREAK HEARTS DON'T LISTEN TO A WORD* Uhuh...my Lil Sis Typed that .-.