Fifteen.

{Guys it's exactly 1:10am and I'm still not done with homework. : ). Brb shooting self----. Anyways... I'm so tired. ;-;. I just want to sleepppp. And I really don't want to go to school this week. Or next week. Or any week. ; 3;. Here, have a story I wrote for another website.  /sobs. OH. Someone please tell me: Why is writing about "love" so... Easy? Lolol, I've been trying to refrain from using that as a topic but I find it as one of the easiest go-to subjects to write about... OH WELL BACK TO DOING A STUDY GUIDE ON OSMOSIS AND DIFFUSION YEAH!}

   "Mom, did you ever... Like anyone when you were fifteen?"

   "Who hasn't? Come to think of it... You're turning fifteen tomorrow, aren't you? You'll be at the age when my first love ended!" Chuckling, she added, "Honestly, I wouldn't be the same if that didn't happen to me then."

   The woman reminisced about her teenage years, remembering the sights, sounds, and smells she encountered during her years as a student. Looking at her bright-eyed daughter who was still so pure and innocent, seeming as if she had never gotten hurt before, the woman suddenly saw herself in her child. Not only were the facial features similar, but the air the child gave off, it was very much like the feeling the woman gave off years before - a gentle, kind presence that didn't know the meaning of heartbreak. 

   "Would you like to hear how my first love ended?" The woman asked.

   The child smiled, full of curiosity and wonder as to what her mother was like and who she loved when she was a teenager. Slowly the woman smiled, the answer evident on the child's face. It was clear to her that her daughter wanted to know of the past, and more about her mother.

   "Alright! This might be a long one though, so try to stay awake! It all started when I was fourteen..." The woman's voice grew warmer, and she closed her eyes to relive her memories.

   "My first love wasn't like any other boy. He was clumsy, a coward, and didn't have any aspects that made him stand out from the crowd. Maybe that's why I liked him. Seeing boys that were perfect all day from the television and magazines, I guess I felt that 'perfect' boys were just... Too ordinary? They lost their appeal once I noticed that most of them had rotten personalities. This man however... He was different. He was genuinely nice to everyone he met, even the ones who picked on him. Those types of boys are rare, I tell you! Compared to your father, this man was a lot nicer. I met him through my school's Writing Club. In each club, there will always be at least one person who sits alone in the corner and doesn't interact with people and... He was that one person. I remember when I first met him, he had his head buried in his journal, jotting down whatever he could think of. His dark brown, shaggy hair covered his eyes - I later found out he had the most beautiful, green eyes I had ever seen - and I didn't like him at all. He was a freak; he had friends but they were all very... Odd. Needless to say, I avoided him at the beginning of Writing Club. The only reason I started talking to him was because I had the chance to read what he wrote. His writing style was uncanny. It was sad, yet happy. Warm, but cold. It showed how he depicted things through his eyes. It told us of just how much he enjoyed life; although the things in between hurt him, he would always write about how he loved that part of life too. He saw the world from a different perspective; he was neither an optimist nor a pessimist. The moment I read his stories, I was captured. Soon after, I started to talk to him more, and I finally got to know the boy with the green eyes. Turns out, he wasn't as weird as I had perceived. He was just quiet and shy. In my mind, he was that antisocial kid who thought high school was a bore and just wanted out of it. But in the end, he wasn't like that in the slightest - he loved school and the thought of making friends. We started talking more during the club and school day. It even got to the point where the two of us would walk home together! I fell in love with his personality and I wanted so desperately to tell him... But I couldn't. I was so afraid that he wouldn't like me back or that our relationship would be broken. Instead of confronting my fears like I should had done, I ended up succumbing to them and keeping my relationship with him the same. Summer vacation was right around the corner and at that point, we were inseparable. I remember on the day of my fifteenth birthday, the two of us had planned to meet up the weekend school ended on Saturday at three in the afternoon. I was elated. This would have been our first 'date' together! The few days before our meeting I coordinated my outfit multiple times; I just couldn't find the right outfit to wear. Finally, I decided on a simple white dress that reminded me of him - he was pure, just like the colour white. I arrived at the meeting spot half an hour early, hoping to impress him when he showed up. As the time drew closer to three, my heart began to pound, the pounds gaining speed as the minute hand ticked toward the twelve. It was finally three!

   3:10pm. 

   3:20pm. 

   3:30pm. 

   3:40pm. 

   3:50pm. 

   4:00pm.

   I waited for an hour, holding on to the last bit of hope I could, just wondering when he would arrive. Still, I kept waiting for him, eventually waiting for two hours for him to come. 

   He never did.

   I was hurt. It couldn't have been possible for him to forget our plan so easily, was it? It wasn't that long since school was over; school only ended just three days prior. That day, I experienced firsthand how it felt to be stood up. Dejected, I walked home, my head down low. As soon as I stepped into my house and walked into my room, I cried. It was a petty reason to cry, but it was still a reason. The rest of the summer flew by without me talking to him again.

   Once school started, I still couldn't get over him. I looked for him around campus and in Writing Club, but he was nowhere to be found. None of his friends could tell me where he was either. He just... Disappeared. It was as if he was carried away by the wind. Knowing me, I don't take no for an answer. I never did, and I never will. That day, I walked to his house, hoping to see where he was. Once I got there I was greeted by his mother who... Aged a lot. Just a few months earlier she was very animated despite her age and now... Her head was covered in grey hairs and he body seemed too frail. She was like a twig; I was afraid that if I put any pressure on her she would snap in half. Thankfully she remembered me - it would have been awkward if she forgot! She invited me in and made me my favourite tea, Early Grey. We chatted, and for a second, her expression brightened. A smile crept onto her face and I finally saw the woman she once was before summer vacation came. After a while, I decided to ask her about him and where he was and... That's when things took a turn for the worse. Her expression dropped and it seemed like she was near tears. And that was when I found out why he couldn't meet me that Saturday afternoon. He was crossing the street when a driver crossed a red light and hit him. He died that day."

   Tears began to fall from the woman's eyes. She bit her lip, hoping to suppress them. However, the more she tried, the easier it was for them to fall. At that point, she couldn't stop. The tears kept falling, almost as if to make up for the time she lost not crying. Recollecting her thoughts, the woman continued on with her story, the tears still rolling down her cheeks.

   "I was shocked... Honestly. His mother didn't blame me at all despite the fact that he was going to meet me. Although she accepted his death she still couldn't handle the fact that she outlived her own child. If you died before me, I wouldn't know what to do. The shock was too much for me. At the time, I couldn't cry because the thought that he was dead was far too great for my mind to comprehend. I suddenly felt the urge to leave the house, but before I could reach the door, his mother stopped me. She told me to wait a few minutes while she went to get something. When she came back, she handed me a box. She told me that her son wanted to give me that on the day he died and that I should take it. I accepted the gift from her hands and said my goodbyes, as well as my apology for bringing up a painful memory, and with that, I ran toward my house. I rushed into my room, still dazed about what happened to him, and completely forgot about the box. When I finally realized that it was in my hand, I plucked all of my courage and opened it carefully, making sure not to destroy it. Inside the box was a necklace. It had my favourite flower, the rose, in my favourite colour, mint. I caressed it in my hand, and suddenly, the fact that he was dead hit me. I could never see him again. I could never talk to him again. Joke with him. Laugh with him. I couldn't do any of the things that were so normal between us again. He was gone."

   The woman stopped and wiped the excess water away from her eyes; she had stopped crying, but the tears weren't dry yet. Sucking in a deep breath, the woman finished off her story.

   "And that was how my first love ended. What do you think?" She looked at her daughter, who's eyes were rimmed with tears.

   "Is that really how it ends? There wasn't a happy ending to it?" The daughter replied, sniffling.

   "Unfortunately, yes. You see... Sometimes there are no happy endings. Unlike the characters in the stories society gives you, life doesn't offer happy endings. Sometimes, life won't work out like how we want it to, and sometimes, it will. Although my first love didn't have an amazing ending, I have one now. I have you, and I have your father. You two make up my 'happy ending'. Like I said before, if I hadn't met my first love or experienced the things I did back then, I would have never been able to become the person I am today. This may be hard to understand at your age, but I promise, in the future, you'll understand everything."

   The woman smiled at her daughter and arose from her seat. Walking towards the kitchen, she played with her rose-shaped pendant necklace, rolling it around in her fingers.

   "Honey, I'm making tea now. Would you like any? I'm sure that after that story you'd like to have something refreshing."

   "What kind?" Asked the daughter, peaking her head out of the top of the couch. 

   The woman let out a soft chuckle and replied, "Early Grey Tea."