LOVE LETTERS ≫ MISC.

Letter One Of Five

Dear Dylan,

You and I were friends, right? I'm not really sure what we were, to begin with, it was only in a span of a year that I got to know you. If I'm being honest with you here then I'll admit, we were never that close of friends. You were such a quiet and reserved guy, your emotions were never shown in front of me much.

I was so stupid, you didn't interact with many girls, therefore, I had this wild imagination that maybe, just maybe, I was a little special from the other girls.

I was a fool.

Whenever I'd see you hang out with your group of boys, I'd feel a fit of blooming jealousy, watching you laugh and smile, how you joke so comfortably with your friends. I wanted that with you. I think I was expecting too much from you, or maybe I was the only one that considered each other as somewhat friends. You must've thought I was just an annoying girl that talked too much and was too bold for you. But I'm not going to apologize for my being, I won't.

I may have been immature but we were just kids, I didn't know how to approach you, I wanted to be friends with you so badly, so much that it drove me forward. Constantly, I would be the one babbling, I hope you know that one of the reasons why I was the one that always talked so much was because I knew you wouldn't. The second was because I was so afraid, afraid of the silence that would most likely follow between us. The third, and the one I'm finally admitting to you now and I've grown to realize, is that- I just wanted to be next to you, even if I was the only one talking.

Thinking back I might've not been a good friend to you, the only thing I did was talk, I talked more than I listened. I just constantly felt as if you never did seem motivated to continue the conversation after me.

I guess that should've been a hint for me. You weren't interested.

Did you know that before, before I even knew what your name was, whenever I'd look at you, I would only see you as the label I'd given you? 'The boy my friend likes', that was all there was to you.

It was only when I moved classes and got separated from the people I routinely knew, that I put it on myself with a label of a wing-women. I wanted to be a better person this year, I wanted everyone to like me, and that included Hanna- who everyone knew we only put up with each other for our friend's benefit.

I'm getting carried away. This is supposed to be a story about my feelings for you.

I've never been someone's wing-women before, but in the beginning, I think I did a pretty well job. I mean, 80% of our conversations consisted of me talking about Hanna; the girl everyone in our grade knew that liked you forever.

In the beginning, the only reason why I even started talking to you was with a motive. Most of the time, I think, when we first started talking I would be the one to initiate it first, then I would follow up with topics that included how great Hanna was, or what your ideal types were, and then just your likes and dislikes. Through it all, or at least in the beginning, I always had Hanna in mind.

It was slow, a small piece of me was being taken. They were small pieces of my heart I didn't notice were being taken, when I talked with you I forgot about Hanna for a minute or two, or how my laughs started becoming louder and more frequent, or how the longer I looked at you- there was more than what I used to see. I didn't have any second-hand intentions though, it was all very innocent for me. But It wasn't until a rumour had spread- questioning my intentions with you and about my somewhat friendship with Hanna that made me realize it all. Addressing these rumours made me think and realize the inevitable truth that was hidden. I started falling as I got to know you, and I mean really know you, well at least a little bit.

Who the hell were you really Dylan?

Because as much as I fooled myself into knowing, I didn't get to know much. And as you got half of my heart, I only got a quarter of you, because you didn't share easily. But whatever I knew, I liked, and it wasn't your likes or dislikes, it wasn't what you told me in words, but it was just you. What you made me feel whenever I was around you, how there were butterflies, the kind that made me excited and nervous and innocently smile. You were a great guy. So instead of labelling you, 'the boy my friend likes', I started to label you as who you were. You were shown as a person in my eyes and with a great personality that I came to know.

Do you remember the time when we all went skating during Christmas time? I really was a horrendous beginner skater. I remember this day specifically because it was the day I first held your hand.

But this is not a love story for us. Because there was never an 'us'.

It was during this incident that the rumours started. I really didn't mean for it to happen. Amy, the other wing-woman that was supposed to help me, she and I had this plan, we were supposed to skate beside you and strike up a conversation involving Hanna to find out what your feelings for her were.

It seemed like a simple plan but wasn't until later that we realized that we both couldn't really skate. We still tried catching up to you, but unlike us, you knew how to skate and it seemed like you kept skating away from us at any given chance.

It was the moment when Amy couldn't catch up with you, and I turned to her, only to see she has fallen and yelled, "Keep skating! I'll catch up with you!" So I did, I continued to skate, but as I turned to check up on her, I happen to trip and fall on my butt. Right here, it was then you offered your hand towards me, and I was so innocent, I really didn't think anything else as I slipped my hand onto yours.

You helped me up and we skated for a bit but the whole time, we both never let go. I didn't know where Amy was and I didn't even hold your hand that long, but apparently it was long enough for some people to take notice. Specifically, Julie, the girl who I knew and I'm pretty sure a lot of other people knew, also had a crush on you for a while. She skated right past us and I cluelessly didn't notice the glaring she sent towards us, nor did I notice the other peering eyes of the other classmates. She and I were somewhat friends, keep in mind that I'm stretching the word, 'were'- before she saw me holding your hand. I didn't realize until later when she cornered me on the bench, with her questions that made me feel interrogated. Although somewhat ignorant, I wasn't dumb enough to not realize the blaze of jealousy in her eyes.

I want to admit that it felt really nice, that when you didn't let go of my hand, it was warm and comforting. And I know that you only kept your grip on me because you were being nice and I couldn't skate. But my heart still flutters whenever I think back to the ice rink.

I liked how my hand fitted in yours so nicely.

(1/5)