Under the Crescent Moon (exploring new writing styles)

He paced up and down in his living room. To tell, or not to tell? He could not make up his mind. She was the first person who accepted him as a friend since that day. He should have never kept it a secret from her. But now all that mattered was whether he would tell her and how. Would he risk it? Could he risk it? Would she judge him for who he was, or how he is now? The questions lingered in his mind long after the incident. The doorbell rang. His mouth felt so dry it kept sticking to the top of his mouth. In a few quick steps he rushed to open the door. There she was, beautiful as ever. Her sapphire blue eyes were mesmerizing. Her scent, it filled his eyes, nose, and mouth. Their eyes met, and they stood there in silence for a while. Then she asked him if he was going to let her in and what the important thing he wanted to tell her was. He invited her in and went to get some water for the both of them. Finally, they both sat down, facing each other. She told him to tell her what he wanted to say, and he asked her if she really wanted to know. She nodded. He toyed with his fingers for a while, the told her everything, stammering every now and then. He saw the colour got drained from her face. When he finished, he asked for her forgiveness. He reached out to stroke her hair. She shoke her head, backed away and told him that she was leaving. Without hesitation she ran out of the open door. He sat there for a while in bewilderment and sorrow, then raced out after her. He called out to her, but she ignored him. He reached out to grab her arm and pulled her back. Only then did he realise that tears were flowing down her cheek, only centermetres away. Their eyes met for the second time. In the midst of the night, two shadowy figures kissed, bathed in the soft light from the crescent moon.