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Description
'A kiss. That's all I want. Is that too much to ask? It doesn't even have to be a long one, just a peck and I would be satisfied. He doesn't even have to talk to me afterwards. But no, he will never kiss me. That's the life of a 12 year old preteen.
My name is Haruhana. I'm 12 years old and I'm helplessly in love with the boy next door. My neighbor, my protector, my Daisuke. I don't know if you would call us best friends, but I've known him my entire life. As far I know, I was born and he was there. Since we've known each other you'd figure a kiss should be a piece of cake. Simple, right? Well, you wouldn't believe how wrong. Unfortunately I, unlike most children who run around stuffing their faces with doughnuts and living life, I stuff my face with flax seeds and bran muffins, dreading life. I'm not a tortured soul or health nut, I'm just medically challenged or rather impaired. I'm a sick kid. I was born prematurely with a lot of health problems. Mainly my heart. Across my fair colored skin lies a nasty, jagged-edge, bright pink scar. Disgusting, I know. It looks like an angry fan girl attacked me with a dull, rusted hack saw. The only way I can hide it, is if I wear a turtle neck. But there is only so much heat one can take in the summer. Daisuke is always trying to have me be covered from head to toe. It's like he doesn't want to see it, can't blame him really. Even I don't want to see it... it's hideous. Daisuke has since always given himself the protector role over me, though I can't tell you why. He treats me like a porcelain doll, which is probably why getting him to kiss me is so darn hard.' I break from my train of thought at the knocking on my door. I open it and it's Daisuke standing there holding a bottle of my meds. Like clockwork, he has my pills ready in hand with water when I close the door in his face and trudge back towards my bed. He opens up the door quizically and tells me what I did was rude. I huff out a sorry and flop on the bed. He strides in beautifully as he normally does and takes a seat besides me, pushing my hair back with his lovely hand, so he can see my hideous face. I wrench my head away and tell him not to look at me cause puberty screwed me over good. If my face isn't greasy, it's covered in zits. He just flashes his heavenly smile and pats my head, saying that it's a phase that will pass. A horrible one at that. I'm the embodiment of a teenage train wreck. If disgusting needed a picture in the dictionary, my face would be next to it. I plop my head on the bed so it doesn't show and Daisuke just chuckles. He tells me to wait there and that he will be back, so I do just that. A few minutes pass by but to my adolescent mind it seemed like forever. Finally he comes in with both hands behind his back. I ask him what he's doing and he holds out his left hand, opening it. I look at what's in his hand and I cringe. I ask Daisuke what is that hideous thing and he tells me it's a seed. I look again at the hideous seed and take note of it. It's a small, fat seed that's a pukey brown color with creepy, white roots. I ask Daisuke why he would show me this when he pulls out his right hand and in it is a pretty pink flower. It's rather small and looks like it's stem is extremely weak but the petals just radiated beauty. I bask in awe at this tiny splendor and question Daisuke what this is about. He calmly holds up both plants and tells me that they are me. I quirk my eyebrows at that statement, especially eyeing the ugly seed. He shakes his head and explains that the seed may start off ugly but with support and time it blossoms beautifully. I didn't see the relevance to me until Daisuke whispered "Spring Flower."
I looked up at him and he told me that the plant was a spring flower. I then remember the story of the spring flower but I don't say anything to Daisuke. He then gets up and tells me not to worry but I know I will because Daisuke left out of his sweet tale that the fate of a spring flower...is early death.

Description
'A kiss. That's all I want. Is that too much to ask? It doesn't even have to be a long one, just a peck and I would be satisfied. He doesn't even have to talk to me afterwards. But no, he will never kiss me. That's the life of a 12 year old preteen.
My name is Haruhana. I'm 12 years old and I'm helplessly in love with the boy next door. My neighbor, my protector, my Daisuke. I don't know if you would call us best friends, but I've known him my entire life. As far I know, I was born and he was there. Since we've known each other you'd figure a kiss should be a piece of cake. Simple, right? Well, you wouldn't believe how wrong. Unfortunately I, unlike most children who run around stuffing their faces with doughnuts and living life, I stuff my face with flax seeds and bran muffins, dreading life. I'm not a tortured soul or health nut, I'm just medically challenged or rather impaired. I'm a sick kid. I was born prematurely with a lot of health problems. Mainly my heart. Across my fair colored skin lies a nasty, jagged-edge, bright pink scar. Disgusting, I know. It looks like an angry fan girl attacked me with a dull, rusted hack saw. The only way I can hide it, is if I wear a turtle neck. But there is only so much heat one can take in the summer. Daisuke is always trying to have me be covered from head to toe. It's like he doesn't want to see it, can't blame him really. Even I don't want to see it... it's hideous. Daisuke has since always given himself the protector role over me, though I can't tell you why. He treats me like a porcelain doll, which is probably why getting him to kiss me is so darn hard.' I break from my train of thought at the knocking on my door. I open it and it's Daisuke standing there holding a bottle of my meds. Like clockwork, he has my pills ready in hand with water when I close the door in his face and trudge back towards my bed. He opens up the door quizically and tells me what I did was rude. I huff out a sorry and flop on the bed. He strides in beautifully as he normally does and takes a seat besides me, pushing my hair back with his lovely hand, so he can see my hideous face. I wrench my head away and tell him not to look at me cause puberty screwed me over good. If my face isn't greasy, it's covered in zits. He just flashes his heavenly smile and pats my head, saying that it's a phase that will pass. A horrible one at that. I'm the embodiment of a teenage train wreck. If disgusting needed a picture in the dictionary, my face would be next to it. I plop my head on the bed so it doesn't show and Daisuke just chuckles. He tells me to wait there and that he will be back, so I do just that. A few minutes pass by but to my adolescent mind it seemed like forever. Finally he comes in with both hands behind his back. I ask him what he's doing and he holds out his left hand, opening it. I look at what's in his hand and I cringe. I ask Daisuke what is that hideous thing and he tells me it's a seed. I look again at the hideous seed and take note of it. It's a small, fat seed that's a pukey brown color with creepy, white roots. I ask Daisuke why he would show me this when he pulls out his right hand and in it is a pretty pink flower. It's rather small and looks like it's stem is extremely weak but the petals just radiated beauty. I bask in awe at this tiny splendor and question Daisuke what this is about. He calmly holds up both plants and tells me that they are me. I quirk my eyebrows at that statement, especially eyeing the ugly seed. He shakes his head and explains that the seed may start off ugly but with support and time it blossoms beautifully. I didn't see the relevance to me until Daisuke whispered "Spring Flower."
I looked up at him and he told me that the plant was a spring flower. I then remember the story of the spring flower but I don't say anything to Daisuke. He then gets up and tells me not to worry but I know I will because Daisuke left out of his sweet tale that the fate of a spring flower...is early death.