It was about two minutes ago, and I’m feeling great.
I punched him in the face first. I wasn’t even expecting myself to do it, and the people around seemed more surprised than anyone. His head flew back and hit the wall of the building, bouncing off. When he realized what had happened and glanced at me, I could see the fury in his face. But I didn’t let that stop me. No reason to do this thing half assed. I backhanded him with my fist, and my class ring cut open his left cheek. He reeled. I punched him in the dead center of his face, breaking his nose and sending blood flying. That’s when he collapsed on the ground.
Like most friends, his were completely useless. The girls gasped, the men said boastful things, but they didn’t come close to me. Then again, it was all moving so fast, they hadn’t had much of a chance yet. But none of them looked like they were going to be too willing to step in.
I wasn’t going to be that noble, either. When he hit the ground I kicked him in the forehead. I was wearing boots, and while they didn’t have steel toes, it sure as hell hurt more than if I had been wearing a pair of Nikes. The sidewalk was concrete, and the right side of his face went skidding across it, leaving skin. I kicked him in his stomach. I kicked him in his sides and legs and privates and anywhere else that was exposed. When he tried to kick back up, I kicked him in his neck. He struggled for breath, but he stayed down. One of his friends did try to grab me then, I’m not sure who. I spun and decked him, sending that one to the ground too. Then I looked down at my real opponent and decided that my work was done. I ran back to my car.
I didn’t go to the main campus looking for a fight with her boyfriend. I just had classes that day. It was a huge campus, and I hardly ever saw the guy around. There was no reason to think today would be any different. So I was a little bit surprised when I saw him lounging outside the Chemistry and Physics building with some of his cronies.
He didn’t say anything; he just glared at me. We’d never liked each other, ever since they started dating and he found out I was her best friend. We hadn’t liked one another before then for various other stupid reasons. He was smarter than me, and I was wittier than him. He wasn’t a bad guy, of course. I just didn’t like him.
And when I saw him there that time, even surrounded by friends, I wanted to hurt him. It wasn’t fair. He had what I wanted. And what had he done to deserve it? What the hell did that matter anyway? I just wanted what he had, and I couldn’t have it so long as he did. I wasn’t in the mood to make sense. I walked over calmly as could be, and then…well, I let out my frustration on him.
But it had all really started that morning.
It was still dark when I opened my eyes from the dream, thinking about it all. I should have just told her. I felt like dying, waiting for the sun to rise. I loved her. It was pretty obvious then. I loved her and there was nothing I could do about it.
There never would be either. So I would just be her friend, I guess. And that would have to be enough.
It never would be, though, and I knew it. We were perfect for each other…but they were, too. He was everything I was, only better. I only had superficial advantages. I had to respect her for not taking those…I guess.
In my dreams, she haunted me. I was fine when I was awake, because I’m a logical person. I could logically realize what our situation was. I could logically deal with it, if I wanted to.
Only in my sleep did I torture myself. My desires could come true, there. And they did. The first few seconds after waking up was hell. The dream was so perfect, so pure, and so beautiful. There were problems in the dream reality, but none I couldn’t deal with. Nothing like the one I had to face in real life. And she wanted me there. Not just as her best friend, either.
When I woke up, I wanted to go back to sleep.