You see, he was truly fascinated with me, and I with him.

We both hadn’t met anyone of the opposite standings before, and we both loved looking into each other’s worlds on a daily basis.

Jasper – that was his name – would ramble on and on about how he’d love to have a luscious breakfast – and I’d give it to him.

If I asked to see how the kitchens operated, he’d sneak me in during the lunch hours to see what was going on.

It was a very happy period in my life, and despite the fear that my feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated, I continued being his friend.

It was better than being left alone.

And so the years went by, until we come to exactly four years ago – when I was sixteen.

I finally had the courage to tell him how I felt – and that’s where this fairy tale goes awry.

He accepted (if quite squeamishly) my request the first day, but said he did not feel the same way.

To put it bluntly, I was rejected.

And then, he pretended that nothing had happened.

Needless to say, it got me angry…

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