Closure with a Fictional Crush

I entered the room and felt uncertain about how to feel. I knew I should feel something, but I didn't really react much. There weren't knots in my stomach, there wasn't anticipation that caused time to molasses around me; there was just the my need to sit on the couch and take in the room around me. The fabric was so familiar enough for me to rub it fast enough to make my hand tingle. The pillows had a similar texture and had a design reminiscent of melted chocolate falling on beige parchment paper. The walls had moving images of a view from a cliff over an ocean. I wasn't exactly surprised by the fact that the images replaced paint or wallpaper. What did I expect from a room that was in the blur between reality and imagination?

I felt distracted by all that I was in until I heard the sound of an opening door coming from in front of me. I see the source of the noise and immediately remember my reason for coming here. That expression of maturity mostly expressed, those ice blue eyes, the shyness that peek-a-boos randomly; it was as if I hadn't changed in years.

He saw me with an expression in his eyes I couldn't really identify and, apart from an infinitesimal smile creeping onto my face, I couldn't identify my emotions, either. He walked over to the end of the couch opposite to my end and I wasn't sure if it would be right to look him in the eye.

"It's really great seeing you. How long has it been?" I heard him say in that beautiful voice that was one of the things that drew me to him all those years ago.

"Oh, umm, I think middle school, if I remember right. A lot of my friends knew about how I felt toward you at the time," I told him while occasionally chuckling and hoping I laughed away some of my embarrassment.

I brought myself to look at him and noticed a smirk on his face while laughing. It was almost as if he knew something that might've been over my head, but I had an idea of what he was thinking: middle school was the time of puberty and the development of hormones. As if that wasn't bad enough, it was the earliest time I acknowledged my peers around me starting to get into dating and I didn't exactly have the confidence or sanity of a catch. After taking in all of those memories of what I felt and thought as well as the potential "whys" behind my imagination, I felt my face burn like someone facing hypothermia and on the verge of paradoxical undressing. However, what would've been the outcome of seeing this guy on TV so often all those years ago was actually the outcome of the kind of person I was and how chimerical the fantasies I had actually were.

After a moment of cringing, I noticed he was still smirking that damn charming smirk.

"You haven't changed a lot," he told me.

"Well, I've changed enough to go through with this," I started before taking a deep breath and choosing my words carefully, "Listen, there may be some parts of me that haven't changed, but there are some things that have. I'm figuring things out for myself and I'm hoping letting go of certain things would help make things easier for me in the long run. So, what I really want to say is thank you for helping me pass the time during a very imaginative era for me. Also, I know it won't be easy for me to find someone, but you've given me a pretty good idea of what I'd want long-term, so I'd like to thank you for that, too."

He seemed surprised by what I had to say. He slid closer to me on the couch and gave an innocent smile.

"I'm proud of you for doing this. I know it's not easy, but it's clear you've matured past the fangirl era," he said to me as if to assure me that my actions weren't for nothing.

He reached out to me and I reached in his direction to complete the handshake and confirm this was real (well, sort of). I looked at my hand and thought about all that has happened. However, when I looked up, he was gone. Things were fun while they lasted, but you don't grow up without letting things go.