I don't want him.
I sat across the room from him. I might as well have sat across the galaxy for all the attention he was paying to me. These thoughts of him had been plaguing my mind almost since the day I'd met him. Not only my mind, but my dreams as well...
I can't want him.
These thoughts, these dreams...they were unacceptable, I shouldn't be having them. Not.at.all. But I was, I couldn't stop them, they snuck up on me like a thief in a dark Coruscant alleyway. They robbed me of my reason. Why did I let them? Why did I let him do these things to me?
Jealousy began to flare up in me as I watched him hug one of his friends in greeting. I wished - irrationally, yes - that it could be me he was hugging. However, this would never happen.
I will not want him.
I must make myself stop this. I'll go mad if it continues any longer. This is just...infatuation, yes. Infatuation is nothing and easily dismissed, it's not...not...anything serious.
It can never be anything serious.
Never be anything.
And as I watched Wedge Antilles speaking with Hobbie Klivian from across a room that seemed wider the Universe, I realised for the umpteenth time exactly why I couldn't, didn't, and would convinc myself not to want him.
I don't, can't, won't want him because...
...because he could never want a Bothan like me.
*ducks rotton fruit, assorted weaponry, and mud*
I'm sorry! I didn't want to! He made me do it! *points to smug looking Borsk*
Someone make him go away! *cries*
Here's the real header (which, if you don't mind, keep as a footer, I want to preserve the suspense....), btw.
Title: Why the Hell Did I Write This?
Summary: Borsk muses on his feelings for Wedge and comes to a joyful (for us) conclusion.
Author's note: Please, don't kill me...kill Borsk.
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