He didn't know when it started. He's known her since middle school so maybe then? No, that was just admiration. Which, to be fair, there was a lot to admire. She was headstrong, sociable, compassionate, kind, and drop dead gorgeous.

Where did that last one come from?

Doesn't mean it isn't true. Now she can literally add heroic to that list, and every other positive trait has been amplified. He might not have known when it started, but he damn sure knows what it is. He's weak, but not foolish. He knows what it's called, which is why he doesn't even talk to about her to anyone. Not even his closest friends. Because the minute he'd open his mouth they'd know what he felt for her. What she meant to him. Where she stands not only in his heart, but in his head. He dreams of pink, and sometimes an even different shade of it. He's ashamed but he's too far gone now.

He's read books and watched movies just like everyone else, he knows that it's supposed to hurt. However, hurt was putting it mildly. It was excruciating. Watching her go on and continue to thrive. Yeah, she wasn't the best at the academics but he knew she would pull through. She always did.

She was Mina.

Who was he? A fraud. Not in the way that insane hero killer thought of. No, he was a fraud of a human being, not just a hero. How else could explain that the only thing he felt everyday was emptiness, a growing numbness that clung to him as he was born with it. No matter how much he tried to scrape it off he would always fall prey to it. He would recede back into his pitiful shell and as resilient as he could be on the outside, he might as well have had nothing inside of him worth protecting. It's why he chose to protect others. Which showed just how good he was at making decisions. A hero?

No, just a fraud.

But every day he wakes up and gets dressed. He spikes his ridiculous hair and puts on his ridiculous smile and walks out as if he belongs. Maybe if he does it enough times he'll believe it? Maybe if he stares at her long enough he'll calm down? It's almost laughable, if it wasn't so pathetic. So, he'll go about his routine, take it one step at a time. Maybe he'll be useful someday. Maybe he'll even be useful to her.

God, when did it become all about her?

When he stopped believing in himself.

At the end of it all, he'll have eaten dinner, talked with his friends, and then head to bed. He'll brush his teeth right before it and gag on the toothpaste. He'll cough and cough until something comes out of his mouth and lands tenderly in the middle of the sink.

A single solitary pink petal.

He'll stare at it for minutes that seem like hours. Stare at it until his eyes are filled with tears. His hands trembling, and his heart disappearing into nothingness.

Of course.

At least now he'll know when it all ends.