[dreamnotfound] forever yours, George

seven

winter 18. the year that i turned 18, and you were still 17. so now it was illegal to love you. that was my excuse.

for my birthday, you got me a fresh Letterman's sweater and took me to the movies. we watched a Jumanji rerun in the old theatre that played classics.

"happy 18th." you said to me. just like we did every year.

happy 16th,

happy 17th,

happy 18th.

that never stopped, did it? even to this day, i remember your words being my best birthday present. we didn't even bother with birthdays that much.

winter 18 is when i had my first kiss. winter 18 is when you went away to your uncle's cabin in the mountains for a month, and only texted me about homework.
winter 18 is when i knew i liked boys and girls and everything in between.

i know you don't care, and i know you're probably not reading this, but i'll tell you about her anyways.

her name was Allie. she smelled like soap and oranges. her hair was shoulder length, black and curly, and her eyes were green. but i didn't feel anything when i kissed her.

god, i missed you. that winter was the worst part of my life. you were my reason to get out of bed, to keep going, and since you were away it felt like eternity stretched beneath my feet.

i always wonder what i could've done better. i remember you asking me something, during the first blizzard of the year, eating dinner at my place.

"you can come if you want."

i had pushed away your offer like i pushed away my growing feelings.

"no, i could never. your parents wouldn't want me to come with."

"oh come on, they love you! you're more of their son than i am!"

i snorted at that, and you grinned at me. but i still didn't join you in the mountains.  you went away with your uncle and went skiing and snowboarding and made cake and hot chocolate.

when you came back, you were different. you took me to the corner store and bought a pack of cigarettes. you whistled at girls in school and pinched my cheek when i was being dumb. you drank iced coffees from glass bottles in the morning and a shot of energy drink in the afternoon. you were late to school.

i didn't like this new version of Clay. it wasn't my Clay, the one i grew up with for years, the one who sang to me and scream-singed Taylor Swift songs.

one weekend, i told you this.

"you've changed."

"yeah."

"wanna... wanna talk about it?"

"there's not much to talk about, George."

"clearly there is, because it's kind of upsetting how you changed this much over one fucking winter."

"maybe it's just
because
i had
to hide myself
around someone
as sensitive
as you."

and i broke on the inside. my blood turned to cold, salty sea water and my veins hardened to glass. my skin turned to eggshells.

"what the hell?!"

"i'm kidding! you're such an idiot."

you chuckled and pinched my cheek again, and i laughed thinly and with no air in my lungs, because you took it all away. you took my breath and ran with it and twisted it and shoved it back at me.

and we laughed and sipped our Cokes like it was all okay, but you had a new sharpness to your words and your jokes were less soft and light. i didn't think of you the same anymore.

but it's fine.

because you were right, Clay,

you did
have
to hide yourself
around someone
as sensitive
as me.

forever yours,
George