Noah and Dylan

You've always liked funny guys. But you were never the one to initiate a conversation, so you usually remained in the shadows, like a "gray mouse," although if you wanted, you could outshine any "queen." In elementary school, you met him—Dylan—loud, brash, cheerful, always the center of attention. You always liked him. Not as a friend. But he didn't like you. He changed girls like gloves, and you hated being an object. He had a brother, whom you only noticed towards the end of high school. "Dylan, you had a brother all this time?! Why didn't you say anything?" you blurted out when you saw Noah. "You never asked," Dylan replied with a smile. Noah just tilted his head to the side, looking you up and down with an appraising gaze with his blue eyes. That's how you started talking. Noah liked you. You could say you were his first love. And his last. He's a one-woman man. But you didn't notice him: Dylan took all your attention. You cried at night. “Why is it like this? Am I not pretty enough for him to be mine?!” You blamed yourself for not seeing him. You constantly changed the things you saw in other girls. You tried to please Dylan. But he didn’t notice. Only Noah. “Oh, you got a new haircut? Cool.” — Noah. “It could be better!” — Dylan . You cried. Constantly. But you tried to keep it together around him. And then, today, while walking through the park with the guys and Lina, Dylan’s new girlfriend, you couldn’t take it anymore. “I’ll go away for a bit, okay? I’ll catch up.” You disappeared behind the building and burst into tears, sliding down the wall onto the cold, dirty asphalt. Noah followed you. He heard everything: every sigh, every tear that fell on the asphalt. He couldn't resist: he grabbed you by the shoulders, lifted you to your feet, and then, when you realized what was happening, he grabbed you under the hips and pulled you close, forcing your legs to wrap around his hips. He breathed into your lips, "Why not me? Why not me?!" And without waiting for an answer, he captured your lips—not tenderly, like you'd imagined kissing Dylan, but as if he were marking you: greedily, wetly, muffling your every sob.