A/N: It's an unedited chapter. Please give me some time to fix the errors.
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Pink. That's what you wore today, Elizabeth; a fucking pink dress. The moment I saw you in that hideous piece of garment, I wanted to rip it off (not sexually) and dress you back in your jeans and tee shirts. You hate dresses, especially pink ones. Pink makes you want to puke. I know all the clothes you have (not creepy at all), and I've never seen a similar piece of shit in your closet. If I find out who lent you that shit, I would kill her.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not against people who like pink dresses. It's your body, and you can dress yourself in polythene bags if you want to, and I don't get a say in it. Nobody does. I'm just angry that you're wearing something you don't like. For that a$$hole. He told you at lunch yesterday, in front of me, that you should dress more like a girl. I wanted to shove my shoes up the a$$hole's asshole, when he said that (I didn't, because I love my shoes).
I don't understand what he means by 'dress more like a girl'. Clothes is something you wear for your comfort and liking, not for following gender stereotypes that make absolutely no sense.
In the last letter, I was angry at you for liking Jake. Now, I'm disappointed in you for changing your personality for a boy. This isn't you. Wake up, please. The girl I saw today, wearing a pink dress and makeup is not you. You looked pretty, I give you that. But, you didn't look beautiful. Everyone's personality is what makes them beautiful. Everyone is beautiful with their own personalities. Your personality is not pink dress and make up. Its someone else's beauty. Not yours. Your beauty is what you like to wear, your sarcasm, wit, and intelligence. Please don't turn into someone who you aren't.
-Your best friend,
Max
I melt at how beautiful his thoughts were, at such a young age. It's probably because he grew up earlier than other kids like me. His perspective on beauty, at such a young age amazes me to no ends. It even makes me giddy that he thought of me as a beautiful person, even then. He never told me when we were kids, that I looked beautiful. He did when we were eighteen, and he looked so relieved, like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders.
Drunk with love, I begin reading the letter attached to it.
'The time I wrote the letter was when it all began, I presume. You irritated me to no extent by talking about that douche, all the time. You were so infatuated. As I'm writing to you now, I recall the amount of jealousy and hatred I had for Jake. For the record, I still hate him.
See, you've been my girlfriend for four years and I don't think you even remember Jake. He isn't going to come back into your life, and claim to love you. Even if he does, you aren't going to love him even 1% of how much you do me. Yet, I love to hate him. Love and hate are two like feelings. There is only one difference between the two: love is a positive feeling, whereas hate is a negative feeling. Both feelings are very strong, and makes us think of the person often. Just like I used to think about how lucky Jake was to date you, without realizing that I will become luckier than him and have you for my entire life.
I thought I was going to lose you, that you would forget your best friend for a guy you liked. I knew deep inside me that you wouldn't, but I could never make the feeling go. It was my biggest fear. I hugged you tighter to myself in our sleep, fearing that you would disappear when I woke up. It hurt bad whenever you were away from me, with him. I wanted to mess up your relationship with him, but decided that I didn't want to be an ass like him.
I hid this from you, dear. There was one time when Jake came up to me and demanded me to stay away from you like he had a claim on you. I got angry and told him that he didn't have the right to control who you spoke to (The only reason why I didn't ask you to break up with him. I've always been a gentleman). He became angrier and punched me. It hurt so much, love. I still remember my blood spilling out of my mouth (gross, I know).
I wasn't one of those teen fiction main characters who would fight back, and win his best friend's heart. I didn't belong in genius, nerd, geek, jock, player, or any of those high-school hierarchical classifications. I was a normal boy who studied as much as he could, and sometimes got into little troubles. So again, I didn't fight back or go home crying.
I didn't want you to know, not because you would think any less of me. But, because you would go all ninja on your 'boyfriend'. You weren't the stereotypical teen girl, either. You weren't the girl who would put up with others' antics. I knew that if you came to know, you would rearrange Jake's face. That wouldn't be good for your reputation. I remember hiding in my house, all alone because I didn't want you to see Jake's fist's impact on my wonderful face. I guess I even wrote you letters during that time. You never came to know about it till the end. Now, I'm telling you because I don't want to hide from you, even the littlest things about me.
-Love,
Your husband (I'm hoping that my cowardly ass proposed to you, and we are happily married by the time you read this letter.) I love you, baby.
Oh my! That's the cutest thing I have ever read. He was jealous, but he didn't act like a control freak. I don't ring the control freak characters sexy, at all. They're the roles in books that make me want to exchange the book in the bookstore with a kids' book. They're a turn off. Max was a gentleman, even when we were just fifteen. That's another thing I love about him. He respected everyone's boundaries and treated me like the person he loved, not like I was his favorite toy which he didn't want to share with the other kids.
He's a damn good actor, hiding his face from me. I dislike Jake, now. I find it so funny that even after so many years, I want to find Jake and punch him for what he did to my man. Max couldn't have acted to my parents, though. I'm sure my parents know that Jake broke his nose, and hid it from me just like he did. Traitors.
Our love was so pure, and innocent. We began so pure, with no ego and arrogance. Everything was shared between us. We were there for each other in our best and worst times. We got to know each other better through all the years, and eventually fell in love.
It is magical how two, totally unrelated people can fall so much in love that they are ready to do anything for each other. I can't help but think that people are brought together by fate. Max entered my life just as my babysitter's little brother. Who would've thought that he would become my world, one day? I would look back at our story, every day in my life and cherish what we had, and mourn the end of our life together.
