Categories > Original > Romance
“If you love her so much, tell her, not me. I don’t even know who she is.” I said.
“What if she doesn’t love me?” he said. He said it like the concept caused him physical pain. Michael was much taller than me, with pitch black hair and perfect silver eyes. His usual crooked smile was absent, replaced by a frown as he thought about the possibility that his heart might get broken again. We had been best friends for fourteen of the sixteen years of our lives.
“Well then you’ll go through life alone and afraid to take chances,” I replied to his whisper.
“I don’t know… I’m gonna go think about it. Maybe…” his voice trailed off. He grabbed me in a tight hug, and I looked up at him. He was smiling again.
“I’ll see you,” he whispered onto the top of my head. He took a deep breath, and tucked something into my back pocket. “I’ll have my phone, tell my mom where I am if she asks.” He kissed my cheek before he walked off in the general direction of the creek.
“You should tell her, you know!” I shouted after him, after a minute.
I touched my cheek, and started walking home. After a few minutes, I remembered my pocket. I found a small piece of paper, folded once. I opened it, and written in dark red ink, in his perfectly neat cursive, was
“it’s you”
I kicked off my Vans and fought the urge to keel over as I ran to the creek. I fought back tears as the memories crowded my head.
Him singing me my favorite song as I fell asleep in his arms last year, on our log.
Four years ago, the way he held me and kissed my head after I was dumped for the first time, sitting on our fallen tree.
Skipping stones when we were eleven.
His arms around my waist as I determinedly tried to catch a stubborn fish in an empty cup, seven years ago.
Playing patty-cake by the tree that hadn’t fallen yet, as our mothers sat ten feet away, discussing the cons of having a six year old.
Him telling me that no one would ever really deserve me, after I had been rejected by a boy yet again, just last week.
Even though I had never been a good runner, and I had just managed to run ten minutes straight, I wasn’t out of breath until I saw Michael, sitting on our log, staring at the sun.
“You’re gonna burn those beautiful eyes if you keep staring at it,” I whispered, as I sat down.
He pulled me closer and I buried my face in his hoodie.
He pulled my face up to his.
“It’s so beautiful, please don’t hide it,” he whispered in my ear, and then kissed me.
We somehow ended up horizontal, and stayed like that for hours. The sun both set and rose before we moved. I went and got my phone, which I had turned off and threw twenty feet away from us after answering my mother’s twelfth call. We went to my house, and I think I heard my mother ground me for two months, but I was too distracted to notice. I was going to protest, but my mouth was otherwise occupied.
It took us fourteen years to realize it, but we were meant for each other.
“What if she doesn’t love me?” he said. He said it like the concept caused him physical pain. Michael was much taller than me, with pitch black hair and perfect silver eyes. His usual crooked smile was absent, replaced by a frown as he thought about the possibility that his heart might get broken again. We had been best friends for fourteen of the sixteen years of our lives.
“Well then you’ll go through life alone and afraid to take chances,” I replied to his whisper.
“I don’t know… I’m gonna go think about it. Maybe…” his voice trailed off. He grabbed me in a tight hug, and I looked up at him. He was smiling again.
“I’ll see you,” he whispered onto the top of my head. He took a deep breath, and tucked something into my back pocket. “I’ll have my phone, tell my mom where I am if she asks.” He kissed my cheek before he walked off in the general direction of the creek.
“You should tell her, you know!” I shouted after him, after a minute.
I touched my cheek, and started walking home. After a few minutes, I remembered my pocket. I found a small piece of paper, folded once. I opened it, and written in dark red ink, in his perfectly neat cursive, was
“it’s you”
I kicked off my Vans and fought the urge to keel over as I ran to the creek. I fought back tears as the memories crowded my head.
Him singing me my favorite song as I fell asleep in his arms last year, on our log.
Four years ago, the way he held me and kissed my head after I was dumped for the first time, sitting on our fallen tree.
Skipping stones when we were eleven.
His arms around my waist as I determinedly tried to catch a stubborn fish in an empty cup, seven years ago.
Playing patty-cake by the tree that hadn’t fallen yet, as our mothers sat ten feet away, discussing the cons of having a six year old.
Him telling me that no one would ever really deserve me, after I had been rejected by a boy yet again, just last week.
Even though I had never been a good runner, and I had just managed to run ten minutes straight, I wasn’t out of breath until I saw Michael, sitting on our log, staring at the sun.
“You’re gonna burn those beautiful eyes if you keep staring at it,” I whispered, as I sat down.
He pulled me closer and I buried my face in his hoodie.
He pulled my face up to his.
“It’s so beautiful, please don’t hide it,” he whispered in my ear, and then kissed me.
We somehow ended up horizontal, and stayed like that for hours. The sun both set and rose before we moved. I went and got my phone, which I had turned off and threw twenty feet away from us after answering my mother’s twelfth call. We went to my house, and I think I heard my mother ground me for two months, but I was too distracted to notice. I was going to protest, but my mouth was otherwise occupied.
It took us fourteen years to realize it, but we were meant for each other.
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