He had always loved her.

She was beautiful.

It wasn’t the kind of beautiful which people tell other people they are.

Rather, it was the kind of beautiful which doesn’t need to be said.

The kind of beautiful which one can take for granted.

An objective beauty which only the gods can have.

He was not beautiful.

He was not ugly, some might even call him good-looking, even handsome.

But he did not have the beauty she had.

This was one of the reasons he had never told her he loved her.

Most people would find this a sad, even pathetic reason not to confess, but he had another reason.

For those who were not beautiful to love those who were was the most natural thing in the world.

He felt his love for her could be taken for granted in the same way her beauty could.

He loved her, and always would.

She didn’t love him, and never would.

He assumed that this was self evident, and that everyone knew it.

He did not say he loved her, but he did not hide it.

They did not speak to each other.

They did not even make eye contact.

There was, he thought, a beauty in their relationship.

The absolute distance between them.

He wished those painful days would last forever.

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“Ugly.”

He stared at the man who spoken.

He was confused, because the man was facing her, but had given no clue what he was talking about.

’He must have meant that in comparison to her, everything else is ugly.’

“You’re ugly.”

’Indeed, when we are in the same room as her, we realise how ugly we are.’

“Do you know why you are ugly girl?”

He finally realised that the man was talking about her.

“You’re ugly”

He took a step forward, his fists clenched.

“Because you can’t take center stage.”

He took another step.

“You simply do nothing, as though that were enough. Beauty comes from when people cannot take their eyes off you. Domination of the space you are in. It is not enough to be a part of the space, you have to be the biggest part.”

He realised suddenly that he was the only one watching.

He was the only one who saw her tears.

He did something which would under any circumstances been unthinkable.

He spoke to her.

He was not elegant.

He was not comforting or calm.

He stammered and struggled.

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He told her that if she wanted to be noticed, he could help.

He told her that he would put her in people’s sight.

He told her that she would dominate her space like nothing else could.

He did not tell her that she was beautiful.

He did not tell her that he loved her.

He did not feel the need to state the obvious, the given.

He did not realise that it was obvious only to him.

She had never been told that she was beautiful.

When she was told she was ugly, therefore, she believed it.

When she was told that beauty came from attention, she assumed that was why no one ever seemed to talk to her.

When he came over, she thought he wanted to comfort her.

She thought that maybe she was even uglier when she was crying.

He did not tell her that he loved her.

So she assumed he didn’t.

He did not tell her that she was beautiful.

So she assumed she wasn’t.

He was trying to be nice, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie about it.

She cried even harder.

When he told her he would give her a chance for attention, she cried even harder.

She was torn.

She was scared to show off her presumably ugly form.

But she wanted a chance to be beautiful.

At least a chance to know how it felt.

She wanted that chance desperately.

She followed him, wiping her eyes and nose occasionally.

He had never been so close to her before.

She was still crying, water coming out of her eyes in bursts.

He swore to himself that he would never let her cry again.

He didn’t feel the heat from her he had always felt in the past.

Instead he felt a deathly chill creeping up his back.

Her cold was as overpowering as her heat had been, and he was right next to her.

He shivered slightly.

He would give her everything.

Everything he had, to give her the stage.

He would become a backdrop to her beauty.

She began to reach forward to grab his shirt, hoping to be comforted.

As she touched his shirt he shivered in disgust, and she drew her hand away.

He did not tell her that he loved her.

No one ever had.

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