God, were you ever so ignorant.

Johnny had his eyes fixed on you ever since you joined the gang, but of course, you never noticed it. You never noticed him. And, honestly, it was painful.

Every one of his acts of love toward you would be returned with platonic hugs or simple replies. He wanted so much more than that: to make you see that he wasn't being plain friendly. He wanted to hold you. Sleep next to you. Kiss you.

But Johnny couldn't, and it stayed that way.

Now, as Johnny handed you a pretty-looking bouquet of flowers to you, he swallowed the lump of hurt in his throat. "I-I just saw 'em, and they reminded me of you," he muttered gruffly. His voice was huskier than he intended, and his eyes flashed with barely noticeable pain at your kind smile.

Why couldn't you just see how much he loved you? It drove Johnny mad; but all he did was subtly shake the bouquet.