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The Boy That You Love

Growing up I was never aware that two boys or two girls could be in a relationship; it just wasn’t brought up. I was 13 when I first realised that this was a possiblity and I was 13 when i learned about the oppression people face for loving someone of the same gender. There is so much negativity around, so many people trying to tell you what you can and can’t do. I wrote this to show that love has no boundaries, love has no gender. That love is love. This is heavily inspired by two characters from Maggie Stiefvater’s The Raven Cycle. 

You’re in a cabin with the boy that you love, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him. But, oh, it’s hard when he’s looking at you the way he is right now. With that small smile and his messy hair and that mole that’s positioned under his bottom lip. You want to kiss him, but you don’t.

You’re lying in the grass with the boy that you love, and you’re trying not to tell him that he is better than the stars. You watch as he rolls around, a laugh bubbling in his throat, a sob building in yours. He turns to look at you, his face propped up in his hand; you feel your heart leap. Because you’ve been looking for the beauty in the sky but it’s down here on Earth. You want to kiss him, but you don’t.

You’re at home with the boy that you love, and you’re trying not to tell him that your house is only a home when he’s with you. He steps forward, reaching for something behind you, and all you can do is blink because his mouth is so close to your ear and you think he’s staying there for longer than is necessary. You need to kiss him, but you don’t.

You’re sitting in your friend’s house with the boy that you love, and you’re trying not to look at him otherwise, you’ll burst into flames. You hear one person laugh and anther yell but everything goes quiet when he sits down next to you. You try to breathe and calm your heart rate, but your mind is just on his smell, his body, his eyes, his smile. Him. Him. Him. His hand finds yours under the table and your lungs find it hard to catch their breath. You glance sideways at him, and he’s looking ahead. You need to kiss him, but you don’t.

You’re on the phone with the boy that you love, and you’re trying to form coherent sentences. You can’t. He doesn’t mind. You listen to his voice as it rings down the line, and you let yourself get lost in his sound. He asks about your day. You tell him it was great, but you don’t mention the fact that it’s better now that he’s here. He talks about his day. You ache to kiss him, but you don’t.

You’re resting next to the boy that you love, and you’re trying to keep a smile from spreading across your lips. Impossible. His legs are tangled with yours and his head is resting on your chest and you can feel your heartbeat everywhere. You hope it doesn’t wake him. You watch as his eyes flutter open and find your face, a smile so shy and vulnerable that you feel yourself shatter into a million pieces. He touches your cheek lightly, his hand traveling to your hair. You bite your lip, and his smile grows bigger. He looks so beautiful, so perfect, so him. When you walk through the house, you feel your chest tighten. You ask yourself: “what should I do?” Then he looks at you and you feel something click. He asks you to kiss him, and you do.

(It wouldn’t let me caption the featured image so here’s the source)

 

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Sixteen year old girl who loves reading, writing and politics. Also acts and volunteers sometimes. Going on to study English Literature, Classical Civilisation and Sociology.

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