Watching.

I sit across the table from him, watching. Just watching.

I'm only watching him and it's killing me.

Every time he laughs, turns his head, smiles... it's like a stab to the gut.

Maybe if he was smiling for me, it'd feel different. But he's smiling and laughing and loving someone else and it... hurts.

It hurts.

Maybe it's jealousy talking, or maybe it's just me being over-protective. I'm not sure anymore.

He'll ask me what's wrong, sometimes. I shrug him off, insisting that I'm fine, that I'm just being the misanthropist as usual.

He'll look at me strangely for a minute, but then he'll forget about it. He always does. And sometimes, I wish that it would get through his head, that it would stick, that something is wrong and maybe he's the problem.

But he's never going to see it. Not properly.

Even if he did, it'd make no difference. It's too... platonic on his side. To him, I'm just Ole. Just Ole.

But he is so much more than just Emil to me.