(for @GlitterButtDaBest07's contest)

prompt: two opposite characters fall in love

genre: angst !!

warnings: death, violence, bullying

──────

Dear Jen,

I can't believe I'm writing a letter. A letter. And to you, of all people.

You, who hurt me in more ways than you could imagine.

You, who rolled your eyes as I cried.

You, who can't see my tears now.

It shouldn't hurt anymore. I should feel numb to the pain stabbing at me, twisting deeper and deeper with every passing moment.

But really, it hurts even more.

««««««

"A fifty-eight? Can't you do anything, Inessa?"

I sank lower in my chair, trying to shut out the snickers and comments my classmates made. We'd just gotten our math tests back, and I'd failed miserably.

And apparently, no one was going to let me forget it.

Why is it a big deal? I wanted to shout at them. I'll just try harder next time.

But it wasn't the test. It was me. I was the perfect target for bullying: quiet, a crybaby, and too chicken to tell a teacher.

My lower lip trembled, and I felt the familiar burning behind my eyes. Don't let them see you cry again, I reprimanded myself.

"Aw, is she going to cry?" one student mocked. "What a baby."

"Come on, guys, leave her alone," a familiar voice sniffed. She turned her head to look at me, then at the other students, a couple of her curls falling around her face. "She doesn't want you to see her cry. How pathetic."

"Sorry, Jen!" the other kids said quickly, like the dumb little servants they were.

Jen was the goddess, and everyone at school worshipped her. Though really, they were just afraid to agitate her.

"What did you get, Jen?" a student asked, smirking at me like Jen's so much smarter than you.

Jen straightened. "One hundred percent."

"Of course she did," I mumbled.

"What was that?" someone snapped instantly.

The sharpness in her narrowed eyes made my words die in my throat. I swallowed hard and whispered, "Nothing."

"That's what I thought."

My vision blurred with fresh tears, and I lowered my head. But before that, I caught Jen sigh and roll her eyes as she turned back around.

That was in sixth grade. Things didn't change much several years later, including my math skills.

»»»»»»

It was all so ridiculous.

The way you treated me. The way I reacted.

I was a high-school baby, with a soul much too soft and fragile. I thought you hated me, like everyone else.

I was wrong.

««««««

"Mr. Wallace?"

My Algebra teacher turned towards me, lifting his brows. "Yes, Inessa?"

"I-I was wondering if I could get some extra help with the math," I said.

"Ah, of course," Mr. Wallace said, giving me a kind smile. "It's great that you care about your performance in school. Now, I would suggest going to the homework club —"

"No!"

"No?" Mr. Wallace looked bewildered at my outburst.

I stared down at my feet, shoes scraping against the linoleum floor. "Too many people," I whispered.

Mr. Wallace's expression morphed into sympathy. "I'm sorry, I know it can be hard. Tell you what, I can just have you study with Jen. She's the best in class, and a great tutor."

His smile conveyed that he thought he'd made a great compromise, and he didn't even seem to register my horror-stricken face as he mumbled to himself about making arrangements for studying.

"R-right, thank you, Mr. Wallace," I choked out, spinning around on my heel.

I almost didn't hear my teacher's "Anytime!" as I exited the classroom, my stomach churning with dread.

Studying with Jen was exactly the nightmare I'd expected. She'd remind me every five seconds that she was forced to do this, and that she would never willingly hang out with me. And then there was the studying itself.

"God, Inessa, you can't factor x^3 and x^4 together! They're different powers! Are you stupid?"

"Sorry," I said quietly, starting to erase my work.

I could feel Jen staring judgmentally at each stroke my pencil made against the paper, so naturally my hand started to tremble.

"Finally, a right answer," she said when I finished the problem.

Does she have to make everything sound mean? I thought, but kept silent. I, like my peers, was terrified of provoking Jen.

But there was only so much I could take.

Jen had been tutoring me for about a month, and I was finally starting to get most of the practice problems correct. One afternoon as I was working, she peered over my shoulder, face contorting into disgust. "Your handwriting is awful," she announced unnecessarily. "It makes your whole page look messy."

At that moment, something bubbled up inside me, something raw and hot and angry. "Would it really kill you to say something nice for once?" I said, my tone sharp. "I've been doing my best and all you do is insult me! It's like you're trying to expose every single flaw I have! And when it hurts me, you say I'm 'pathetic'? You know who's really pathetic? It's you, Jen! You're pathetic! You're pathetic for seeking superiority by bringing others down!"

I'd never said anything like that before. Sure, I'd thought it, but saying it to Jen's face was a completely different story.

For a few moments, Jen was speechless. Her jaw had fallen, her eyes wide and round. "I..." She trailed off, and struggled to finish the sentence. And when she did, I sat there, blinking at her like an idiot.

It was only two simple words, but they changed everything.

"I'm sorry."

»»»»»»

When we first became friends, I thought it was some cruel, extended prank. A few days later, you'd be all "Ha! Inessa actually thought I was her friend? God, how pathetic."

Again, I was wrong.

««««««

After that day, Jen was more cautious of what she said to me. She was still annoying and sarcastic, but it was more... friendly. We talked more often, and actually got to know each other.

Yes, that's right: I became friends with Jen.

What had happened to my life?

"Hey, Inessa." Jen waved her hand at me from across the room, looking vaguely annoyed.

"Yeah?"

"Want to get ice cream with me today?" she asked me.

My brain short-circuited. Jen was popular — she had so many options on who to get ice cream with. And she asked me?

Maybe it was a prank.

Jen rolled her eyes. "Whatever. You don't get a choice. You're coming with me, idiot."

I gaped at her. I was going to hang out with Jen. Jen.

For some reason, the thought made a blush rise to my cheeks.

»»»»»»

There are many reasons why I can't forget that day we got ice cream together, some more obvious than others.

This was the last thing I expected to happen.

But, like in many other situations, I was wrong.

««««««

Jen was probably the prettiest girl in school.

Unblemished dark brown skin, beautifully full lips, frizzy, curly black hair. Her eyes were a mysterious brown that shifted shades in the light, and would make anyone stare into them.

I hadn't noticed any of this before, but as we walked along the side of the road to the ice cream shop, I found myself sneaking glances at her. She didn't smile, but her eyes glowed with hidden, brimming joy.

Who knew she was such a softie on the inside?

I was about to work up the courage to say this when Jen stopped abruptly. "We're here. Come on."

Her sentences were blunt and clipped, like she didn't want to give off any sort of kind vibes. But there was something about her that was... excited. No, nervous. Flustered.

I chose strawberry cheesecake ice cream, while Jen ordered a vanilla. She also ordered me to not call her plain for having such a basic flavor.

"I want to talk to you," Jen said once we'd sat down.

I leaned back against my chair, taking a lick of my ice cream. "Mhm."

Jen huffed. "Let me just first say that you're horribly infuriating, stupid, and really, really bad at math —"

I pouted. "Jennn, I thought we were friends," I whined.

"Don't interrupt me, idiot. But even with all that... you're also honest. And kind. Even to me."

I felt myself blushing again. "I —" I started.

"I told you not to interrupt me!" Jen cut in, scowling. "Ugh, you're insufferable. Point is, I like you."

"Huh?" fell out of my mouth before I could even think. I blushed harder, averting my gaze from Jen.

Jen liked me? Like that?

My heartbeat sped up, so loud and pounding I suspected the whole shop could hear.

Jen likes me.

Jen likes me.

I... like Jen.

A slow smile spread across my face. I barely heard anything besides the racing of my heart and my own thoughts.

So I was completely defenseless as a boom! sounded and the glass behind us shattered.

Too late, I turned my head to look at Jen, my smile long gone, replaced with pure dread.

Her face was blanker than an empty sheet of paper.

Her blood was flowing out of the wound on her temple.

Her lips were parted slightly, to say a single word.

"Inessa."

I didn't hear her say it. I didn't hear the other gunshots ringing out, or the people screaming and running to safety. I was shocked to the core, unable to move.

And when I felt arms pull me out of my seat, I snapped back to reality.

"JEN!" I screamed as the ice cream shop employee dragged me away.

Jen didn't answer.

»»»»»»

Sometimes I wonder if you knew I liked you before you were gone. And then I wish I had more time. I wish you had more time.

I wish I could have known you sooner.

It's been a year now, and my heart still aches. Missing you. Wanting you back. It's funny how people don't realize how much they want something until it's gone.

I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

I'm sorry I didn't realize how much you meant to me.

I'm sorry, Jen. I'm sorry.

Love,
Inessa