She loves him

It was a slightly cold morning. A 17-year-old girl just woke up from her dreams.

She had tan-coloured skin and her long, straight dark brown hair looked ruffled from sleeping restlessly last night. She was wearing a small black nightdress, and somehow, her comforter didn't cover her legs, so that was why she felt extra cold on that particular morning. Her legs felt numb for a bit.

When she realised she was awake, she absolutely refused to think so. She tried closing her eyes and going back to sleep again, to continue the dream she was having from where she left off just now. She hugged her pillow tightly, thinking it would help. But it didn't. Come to think of it, she tried to do the same thing in the middle of the night, a few hours ago, too. She woke up, ending her wonderful dream concerning a special someone by accident, and desperately tried to have the same dream again when she managed to lull herself back to sleep. It didn't happen.

She couldn't sleep anymore. She knew she had to get up sooner or later. She turned around to the other side of the bed to face her radio speakers. Her favourite radio station was playing one of her all-time favourite songs. She stared at the blue speakers and enjoyed the song for a while. It was 'Perfect' by Simple Plan.

Almost subconsciously, she sang along, too. She used to relate herself to that song when she was 12, by comparing herself and her mother with the persona and his father. She sang that song in her room, where she locked herself in, whenever she got into a fight with her mother, usually. Crying.

Now that she heard the song again after a long while, it made her think about her past. She spent a few more moments in silence and solitude before finally getting out of bed.

She stretched, loosening her strained muscles up. She went over to her dressing table and looked into the mirror. She picked up her hairbrush and brushed her ruffled hair back, revealing her heart-shaped face. She then walked out of her room to the sink near the bathroom. She faced a mirror again. She turned on the tap as minimally as she could, being the conservative person that she is, and splashed her face with cold water. She washed her face with soap and proceeded to brush her teeth. The lime-flavoured toothpaste left an unbelievably refreshing taste in her mouth.

Again, she went back into her room and stared at her reflection in it. She combed her hair again, as well. She smoothed her nightdress down by running her hands over it a few times. Then, she smiled a beautiful, honest smile.

She picked up Chester, her brown horse plush doll and buried her face in him. She held him in her arms tightly, as if he was alive and wanted to run away from her. She breathed in the familiar scent of the plush toy and stroked his head, continuing to brush his mane using her fingers.

With Chester still in her tight embrace, she walked to the kitchen. The maid was already up, of course, and she was doing the laundry. They simply acknowledged each other with an extremely quick glance. She ignored the maid right after that. She went over to the kitchen counter and started brewing her favourite vanilla milk tea. She simply loved the aroma and the taste even better. A tiny waft of steam swirled up from the hot drink and made her appreciate the beauty in the simplicity.

She hugged Chester in one arm and held her tea delicately with the other hand. She liked that mug. She won it in a lucky draw during last year's party of her school's prefects. It was considered a mug, but it was shaped almost like a cup. It was white in colour and had a simple design of yellow flowers, with the words 'Fashion art' written on it in curvy writings. She sipped on the tea and placed it down on the dining table.

She sat down in front of the desktop in her house and turned it on. As she waited for the computer to run properly, she continued to drink her tea, while enjoying the slight chill of the morning, the quietness in the house and the fresh light of the day.

On that morning, she opened her blog and from her account, found out that he had written about her. Or at least, written a hint about her. As expected, her heart felt like a fluttering butterfly and she felt warm inside, despite the external chill. She also let out an involuntary "Oh..." when she read what he wrote and smiled automatically. She kept stroking Chester's head and spoke to him in a low but excited voice.

"Look, Chester... He wrote this! And I think it was since my confession..."

She grinned to herself again.

She read his piece of writing over and over again, loving the way it made her feel. After the 8th time, her eyes were still trailing after the last words he wrote in his post. And then she suddenly decided to read everything. She went to his archive and read everything he wrote in his blog, from the start. She had read some of the past ones before, but now she has read all of them.

She loved the way he wrote. He was very expressive, and she knew that all the time he was writing, it was his true self writing. Not a liar. Not a phony. Not a fake. Everything he wrote was not a pretense and he expressed himself straight from the center of his beautiful soul that she learned to find herself loving.

Sometimes he wrote about the ridiculous and silly things. Sometimes he wrote about his deep feelings and emotions. Sometimes he wrote about amazing love stories. She was so interested in reading them all, she didn't stop until she was completely finished. She smiled at the sweet, meaningful words and chuckled at the irony of several phrases.

Now that she knew some more facts and truth about him, it only made her love for him grow even bigger, if that was possible. She knew that she was going to have more dreams about him. She was missing him already, but it was alright. She could wait until he was ready.

She was only glad to have let him know that she loves him.