Possessive Hearts, His Desired Sin

Friend or Foe

"Ian?" I whispered. "Ian Darkwater?"

"The one and only," he smiled awkwardly. Holding his hand out in front of me to gesture that he wanted a handshake. But his gesture back-fired on him as I only recoiled in fear. Looking at him with eyes that screamed danger. He sighed with a frown he reluctantly put his hand down and placed them both in his pockets.

"You're afraid of me."

"Pft, don't be absurd. Why would I be afraid of someone like-"

"You're afraid of what I might do to you." He paused looking at me as no words came to my mind. "You've always been afraid. Ever since I became your elementary bully your brain placed a mental warning on me. Reassuring you that you would stay away and never deal with the likes of me again. You weren't afraid of me, you were afraid of the way I turned the whole school on you in a second. Afraid of the words that seemed to cut you like knifes even though they left no physical scaring. Afraid of having food thrown at you when you were just walking in the hall. You weren't afraid of people and you weren't afraid of me. You were afraid of the way they got under your skin and ripped you apart from the inside out. You were afraid of the monster they would bring out in you, but you stayed strong and I am relieved that you stayed strong."

"Are you saying that your sorry for what you did?" I spoke through clench teeth. Trying to not make those terrible memories roll back into my mind and cry in front of the person who caused them. You don't ever cry in front of your enemy, ever. And Ian Darkwater was my enemy ever since I walked through those school gates for the first time.

"Yes," he said softly. "Not a day goes by where I regret what I did to you. And I know no matter how many times I say the word sorry, you will never forgive me. And you shouldn't. Why forgive a brat like me who picked on you for a stupid reason."

"What was the reason exactly? Why the bullying?" I asked, cold and emotionless. My fingers fidgeting with themselves as I took deep breaths. Trying to soothe my nervous heart.

"You don't know?" He questioned, giving me a surprised look as if I knew how his mind works.

"I only know the fake reason, thinking I was weird because I only drew wolves," I looked up at him. "But I know any smart kid like you could care less of what I drew on my paper. So tell me the real reason as to why you made my elementary life almost like a living hell."

He held a face of guilt for 3 seconds. He sighed and it was as if his whole body had released the hidden tension he was carrying for all those 10 years. We were 8 when Ian bullied me for the first time and now at the age of 18, 10 years later, I'm finally getting some answers.

"I had a crush on you." He admitted, his eyebrows knitted together with stupidity.

"What?" I said in a whisper, raising one of my eyebrows in skepticism.

"I didn't know at the time. I just knew you gave me this weird feeling when ever you were around and I didn't like it cause it was unfamiliar to me. You made my stomach all nervous and my hands clammy. And you just had that power to knock the wind out of me with those eyes. Those...green eyes." He spoke sincere, breaking our eye contact before he looked down at his feet. "I was 8 years old and I had no idea what a crush was, hell I still believed girls had coodies back then. So I concluded that this feeling was hate and I made myself believe that. That I hated you for no reason, that my instinct just told me to hate you. It wasn't until middle school that I realized...that my elementary school self had a crush on the girl that drew nothing but wolves. A crush on the girl that he turned her school against her and he is sorry about that. I am so very sorry."

I was at a lost of words. I knew that was a stupid reason to bully an 8 year old girl. Hell it's practically the most stupidest reason to bully anyone. But...it was the most valid reason and the most forgiving one. He was only 8 when love wasn't even a word to me. Let alone a feeling. Of course he had family love and he loved his toys and he's favorite food. He maybe even loved the sports he played with his friends. But a crush love, that's meant for 18 year olds. That kind of love, was still unknown to me at that young age. He was a scared little boy he didn't even understand what his own body was telling him. A scared little boy he didn't know right from wrong. A little boy who now stands before me as a man to apologize for what he did those ten years ago. I looked at him, the corner of my lip perking up as a half smile. A smile in which he didn't see, a smile that faded once I noticed the small bouquet of roses hiding in the pocket of his jacket.