Then, he swallows and nods. “Okay.”
I reach back and fish out the envelope from my back pocket. “I wrote you a letter.” Licking his lip, he stares at it. “Because I wanted to write down my thoughts before I told them to you. I know you won’t read it. I know that. So, I’m going to read it to you. Is that, uh, okay?”
His hands are fisted at his sides and he clenches his jaw. “Yeah.”
“Okay.”
I open the envelope and bring out two thin papers. It looks so short for the amount of time it took me to write this, and yet so long, because now I have to read it to him.
Sniffling, I unfold the pages and plant my feet wide for better balance. I’m so shaken up already that one tiny poke and I’ll tumble.
“Okay, so it’s not poetry or anything but here goes…” I begin, “Dear… you, I l-love you. I know you don’t want to hear it. You don’t even want it; you’ve said this to me enough times but I have to say it because it’s my truth.
It’s been my truth ever since I was ten. Ever since I saw you that first time in the detention room. I was scared and hungry and I was on the verge of crying. But then, I found you sitting on one of the benches in the back. Your head was turned and you were looking out the window. You were looking at that big water fountain with such focus that you didn’t even notice me when I entered. I don’t know why you were watching it – although, now I know that you were looking at it because of the blue; you love that color. Anyway, I felt something. Right in my stomach…”
I have to pause at that because right this second, I’m feeling the same thing. The same buzz that I felt all those years ago. The butterflies.
I blink and get going again. “I didn’t know what it was, not until years later when I grew up and realized what desire or passion meant. All I knew then was that I wanted to talk to you. And I did. It didn’t turn out that well. You were rude to me. And you were mean. For years, we fought. For years, we were cruel to each other. Sometimes you more than me. But nonetheless, it made me mad. It made me bitter. It made me sick to my stomach. I understand why now. Because I loved you and I wanted you to love me back.”
I sniffle and wipe a tear that streams down my cheek. I have to keep going. If I don’t say it now, I’ll never be able to again.
I don’t know what Zach’s thinking. I haven’t looked at him. I’ve kept my gaze on the paper so far.
“But enough about me. I want to talk about you. I want to tell you your truth…
The truth is that you love me, too. You’ve loved me as long as I’ve loved you. When you turned and laid your eyes on me that first day, you felt something too. Something that I felt in my stomach, you probably felt in your chest. For me it was the butterflies and for you, it was a spark, maybe. A spark different than any other you’d felt. That spark that made you want to be better. It made you want to save me from your friends and their pranks. You didn’t, however.
Because you come from a place of hate. You come from a place that made you think love is a weakness. So every time you felt something for me, you smashed it with your own hands. You hurt me. You made me cry. You made me want to resent you. And in that, you resented yourself.
I want you to know that your secret is safe with me. I’ll never tell anyone that you made the mistake of falling in love when that was the last thing you wanted for yourself. I’ll never tell anyone that we’re made for each other. That our souls are made of a matching fabric. Or that we’re written in the stars. All I’ll do is watch them. The stars, I mean. Every night from wherever I am. All I’ll do is remember you and remember the time we h-had…”
I wipe off my tears again. They’re plopping down on the pages, making big, watery drops, smearing the blue ink.
This is the last part. I have to get through it, and then I’ll walk away. Forever. I’ll start my life.
“It’s every lover’s wish to be with the one they love. But I’ll never wish for more time with you. I’ll pray that we never cross each other’s paths. That this be our last meeting. Because this love that I have for you, I’m very protective of it. I know if I stay, you’ll kill it one day. You’ll take it away from me. And I can’t let that happen. I want to love you till the end of time. Till the moon goes dark and the stars fade out.
“Yours, me.”
My hands are trembling by the time I finish. My legs too. My voice, my breaths.
I’ve never been in this much pain before. It feels like dying. Or actually, it feels like… living.
Without him.
And I haven’t even gone anywhere yet.
I’m still here, standing before him, looking at his shoes, crying like a stupid girl who fell in love with him when she was ten.
I crumple the pages in my hands and look up.
What I see nearly forces me to my knees.
I see a boy, a tired but handsome boy, who’s staring at me like I’m his world. His jaw is set tight and rigid and his eyes, those dark, dark eyes are glassy and red-rimmed.
There’s such vulnerability in them that I feel like our roles have been reversed.
Like I’m a sharp object, a blade maybe, and he’s my fragile thing, a sheet made of gossamer silk.