He loved her. He would always lover her, had always loved her, did love her. He loved her when they were children; he loved her when she'd dated Elliot and loved her when he dated Valerie. He'd always love her.
And he'd never been oblivious to it. No, he'd been afraid of it. Who'd ever heard of a fourteen year-old in love? Sure, in the old days it was common and expected, but not now, no. And his fear came to a head in their freshman year with the accident.
After that, every time they'd been called lovebirds, horror filled his chest with dread that some near-by ghost would hear it. But even after the ghosts had made the connection that hinted their relationship was not just platonic, he was still afraid. If he'd never been in the accident, more than likely he would have told Sam how he felt like Tucker had been pestering him to. But now...
Now he wouldn't. Because he didn't want her hurt to get to him. The thought would always haunt him of her lying somewhere, beaten and in pain. So the question that burned in his throat whenever he saw her was going to remain there under lock and key. But even so...
It still hurt.
A/N: This is what you get when you listen to "I Don't Love You" (My Chemical Romance) when you're writing. X#