I'll go ahead and put a disclaimer in anyway even though I didn't mention any specific character: all characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

The reason why I didn't mention any character is because I don't know which couple this could apply to.

This is all human because it is so very flawed. Not to mention half of the situations here don't apply to vampires.

When I fell sick, all you did was jokingly threaten, "You'd better get well soon, or else…"
I'd willingly nurse you back to health had you gotten ill. You wouldn't even have had to ask.

The football game had just ended. Everyone had already found their friends. I would stand alone in the cold, waiting for you to come out so we could celebrate together.
When you finally come out with your teammates, you spend all of twenty seconds telling me you couldn't talk—you had to make plans with your friends for dinner.

I noticed you shivering in the biting winter cold. I went through a month of trouble to make you a fine grey scarf, one I was rather proud of.
"Guys don't wear scarves. And this colour looks girly on me." And never did it once reappear in my sight.

You had failed an exam. You moped about it. I baked for you to try to make you feel better.
"If you say you failed, then you probably failed. I hate your negativity. It's bringing me down," you told me.

You were going to pull an all-nighter that night. You asked me to help you on an assignment. I did, even though I had never taken the class.
On the days that I had the same amount of work, I called you just to take a break and attempt to relieve a bit of my stress before continuing on. You did relieve my stress, but then you added, "I told you you should've dropped all your Advanced Placement classes."

I had never been one to express my emotions verbally. So when I finally mustered up the courage to tell you, "I miss you…"
"Are you lying to me?" was the first response you gave.

You were bored, and asked me to entertain you by singing. So I did.
"No, no! Don't sing! Please." Even though we both knew my singing was perfect.

Your whereabouts are unknown for an entire day. I would panic and call you until you finally responded in the middle of the night.
Whenever the same happens to me, except for a much longer period of time, all you said was, "I just assumed you would be too busy to go online."

How can I ever compare your reactions to mine? They are too different. We are too different. How is it possible that such different people can share an interest in each other?

I cannot even begin to explain how your reactions make me feel. It's like you know how I feel, and at the same time, you let me feel this way towards you, without doing anything about it. This isn't how a relationship should work, even if ours isn't yet declared.

I can't say you're using me, because you rarely ever ask anything of me. Just my presence was enough.

Sometimes, I wonder if you even care about me at all. It is times like these when I feel like this is all one-sided.

And yet…

You already spent an unspeakable amount of money on my birthday… and that was just for taking me out alone. "It doesn't matter how much your present costs," you tell me. "As long as you're happy."
When it comes to your own birthday, you still refuse to let me pay. If there's anything I've noticed about you men, it's that you have a very flippant attitude towards money: "It's not my money," you'd always say. So your parents don't care that you're spending this much? And it's not even on you.

When I woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares and called you, seeking for comfort, you would wake up, regardless of the hour, and spend as much time as was necessary to cease my dread of going back to sleep.

You would always send me songs that make me smile. You sent me songs where the lyrics made my friends cough their apostrophe—"Whipped!"—at you. Sometimes, some of your favourite songs became my favourite songs.

Even though you treat your phone like a bomb, you hate it when I threaten to hang up on you.

You would willingly chauffeur me to anywhere I needed to go, despite the fact that you dislike driving.
That is, if I ever asked you. Which I would never.

You have only too many pictures of me in your phone. Now why would that be, if you didn't like me?

I called you first. You were busy. You said you'd call me back.
You always did, regardless of the time. Unlike the other boys.

You had just come back from the gym. It was late. You called me back as soon as you got home.
We talked until midnight. You then tell me you hadn't showered yet. It was winter, and cold beyond description.
I cried.
"See what you do to me?" you exclaimed.

On days when I'm inexplicably sad, you're always there for me. Always. Even though you physically couldn't be, you were there mentally. There were days when I was positive I would never be able to crack a smile no matter what anyone did, but you're always the one who is capable of breaking through my set, grim expression.

I could make you laugh just as easily. You'd call me silly and cute, and I'd wonder if you meant it.

Little things like that… they're all sweet and fine. Why can't you always be like that?

With little things like that… I feel like I can actually stand a chance with you.

So then what do you want from me?

A/N: This is one of my more personal stories. I don't know if this could count as angst or not (probably not), but nevertheless, it took a lot of time on my part to get it down right.

Reviews would be appreciated. Thank you.