JK it's just called "The Quiet Ones"................or technically "The Quiet One"
It's always the quietest that draw my attention the most. I don't even know why. I hate it. Especially because I don't know how to talk to them.
It's like with the deer that just happen to waltz into my backyard every now and then.
They look so majestic, their rugged fur, stained with the splashes of mud-filled puddle, those splashes caused by the tires speeding through puddles on a rainy April night.
A night much like last night.
I walked home late last night, the sun barely visible behind the dusty, thick clouds.
My feet ached from the long walk home, but I guess that's what I get for forgetting to tell my mum to come pick me up.
The moment I could see my house made me feel like I could see the finish line at the end of the race. I upped my speed and began to speed walk back when I stopped.
There stood, in the middle of the road, a deer. It's fur was splashed with muds and bits of rock from the road. Blood oozed out of the deep slashes running along it's back leg.
In the distance, a piece of glass, dark red blood spattered over the tips. It looks as though it had been a window, ripped off a car door.
Or perhaps it came from the house with the broken window nearby.
Or perhaps it could just be from the broken bottle, sitting in a puddle of muddy waters, the one that also had pieces of glass in it.
Of course I knew which one it was from, but which one makes a better story? This deer should have a proper story to tell in the afterlife.
I slowly began to slouch under the weight of my backpack. I'd been standing in the roads for five minutes just contemplating this deer.
My shoulders cried out under the crushing weight of my textbooks.
But why this deer? Why did this poor injured deer stop and make me stare? Any injured animal, or human for that matter, could just show up and I probably wouldn't notice. It stayed silent.
You could see the screams of pain behind its eyes. There was probably a lot going through it's mind.
Like I said, the quietest draw my attention.
I'm fairly quiet for teenage guy myself. I don't really participate in things with other people either. Until I signed up for the library help team just yesterday.
Why? Because the quiet one got my attention.
She never talks, unless its to that one girl she sits with in lunch or when she's asking a teacher. She lives in her own world, earbuds always in.
When you're around her, you can hear the slow turning of book pages, the faint electric guitar from her headphones, and your heart thumping faster.
She wears these knee length dresses, high-lows I think (Or so my friend, Giana, calls them).
They're often patterned with flowers, just like the fake flower crown she wears on her vibrant red hair, always up in a messy French braid.
Her freckles are light, barely visible against her soft skin. And don't even get me started on her smile, which can automatically make anyone's heart flutter.
The first time I saw her smile, my guts began to churn. I got nervous, my palms sweaty, knees turning to water, and the floor moving beneath me.
Wow, love seems to have symptoms like a disease. This must be why they call it love sick.
You may think love is a strong word here, but let me get one thing straight, if something says team, I avoid it like the plague.
So for me to sign up for the library help team means I'm really in love.
I purposely signed up to shelf books because I saw her name on the list, and she was the only one. I figure that gives me some time to make a move.
Nw, I'm an extremely awkward guy. So when she smiled my way, I did the only thing I could think of.
I attempted to smile back quickly, then turned away, hoping my bangs covered my eyes so I wouldn't have to look into her eyes as they recoiled with cringe.
Of course, that didn't actually happen. Instead I bared my teeth at her, not like a growl, not like a smile, just like that emoji that sticks all its teeth out in a fit of nervousness.
She giggled and walked over to me, her skirt flowing as she walked across the dark carpet.
"That's a nice book you're holding. I've read it quite a few times." I looked down to see which book I was holding. 'They Both Die At The End' by Adam Silvera.
I've read this one a couple times too.
"Oh yeah. I've--I've read this one too."
"Really?" Her emerald green eyes lit up. I could tell she loved this book.
"Totally! I'm a pluto for life man."
"I'm an honorary pluto. I'm more of a Mateo's side person."
I figured this would be my only chance. I knew exactly how to ask her out.
---------------------building and setting up montage like in the movies---------------------
She walked into the library, just around the same time as the other helpers normally would. But this time, she walked in alone. Her hair was loose today, Valentine's day.
She wore a long dress with short boots and a flower in her hair. I sat at a keyboard in the distance. My palms were sweaty. I knew I was gonna mess this up.
I started playing and singing "Your Song" by Elton John.
She followed the sound, so sweetly. Her eyes were in a dreamy state, and she finally saw me, playing off key and not caring.
When the song finally came to an end, I got ready to pose the daring question.
"I--I've seen you around. You're really cute you know. And..."
She stopped me before I could finish. "Before you say anything else..." she bit her lip and smiled... "Will you be the Rufus to my Mateo?"
I was grinning, shaking, about to cry but about to shout it from the mountains.
"What took you so long?" -------- It's been two months since that day. That beautiful day. We're still together, but every time I see her, my heart flutters, just the way it did when I first saw her.
And that's how it will always be. Because just like the deer on the street who I don't know how to approach, I will never know how to approach her casually. And I hate it. But what can I say? It's always the quiet ones who draw my attention the most.