Paper Hearts ▪ Lams

22

June 3rd, 2017

Alexander's House

Senior Year

//memories are playing in my dull mind//

John never showed up to graduation.

In fact, the day after prom John had upped and left. He took Martha and Jack with him, leaving behind only his possessions. The only things that were missing were a few outfits picked out for each person, a few of the kid's toys and a framed picture of John and Alexander that John kept on his nightstand.

There was no note, no nothing to show where he went, or why they left. Alexander's heart was shattered.

Had he really messed up that badly?

Alexander cried throughout his graduation.

His teachers had asked him to prepare a speech that would represent his years spent at Miranda High School.

He stepped up to the podium with a sad smile. He pulled out two folded pieces of paper and cleared his throat. He looked over the audience before crumbling the two pieces of paper up and throwing them into the crowd.

"If I have learned one thing in these four years of high school," his voice cracked slightly as tears brimmed the corners of his eyes, "It is to love."

Several gasps were heard from the audience.

"No matter what happens; love with all of your heart. Even when times get tough, and even when you think that you won't receive that love in return; love even harder."

He could see some people start to cry, and he had to take a breath before continuing.

"I recently lost my chance with someone that I loved more than anything. And godamnit, if I can tell you one thing that I wish I had known a few days ago, it would be to love even when you have doubts. Love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love; cannot be killed or swept aside. Now go fill the world with love and pride. Thank you, for teaching me beautiful things, but we are off on another road now."

He saw Laf resting their head on Herc's shoulder with their phone up, recording Alexander's speech.

"And if you are stuck in the dark, love, and let it light the way."

The graduates cheered and Alexander let a tear roll down his face.

He lay alone in his bed room, staring at the empty air mattress that sat on his floor. John had been nice enough to fold the sheets and pillow cases.

But he wasn't nice enough to stay.

Alexander felt tears roll onto his pillow case. He didn't try to wipe them away, there was no use anymore.

He walked over to his closet that he used to share with John. He had gotten the right side and John had gotten the left side.

A considerable amount of items still hung on the hangers. Alexander ran his fingers over the pieces of clothing softly, John's scent filling his nose. He always smelled like old paint and grass and Alexander grew to love the smell.

Alexander's fingers stopped when he reached John's blue sweatshirt. It's his favorite. Alexander slowly pulled it off the hanger, as if he pulled any harder, it would unravel.

He held it in between his finger tips, rubbing the soft fabric with his thumbs. He sniffed it deeply and smiled sadly, longing for John's arms to be around him.

"Mon ami," he heard Laf's voice from his doorway. He turned and found Laf standing with Herc, both with tears in their eyes as they watched Alexander.

"He's gone," Alexander whispered, his voice trembling. He fell to the floor with a crash, sobs escaping his lips.

His two friends rushed to his side. Laf hugged him tightly as Herc rubbed his back. Alexander clung to the sweatshirt as if it were his last hope. He sobbed violently, screaming John's name.

Herc pulled Alexander up and placed him on his bed.

Alexander sniffled, "I never told him that I loved him."

Laf rubbed his shoulder reassuringly.

"It's not like he would've said it back anyways," Alexander mumbled.

Laf and Herc leaned back, surprised. They shared a confused look before Laf scooted closer to Alexander.

"Alex," they said softly, "You really didn't see it, did you?"

Alexander looked up and wiped his sleeve across his face, "See what?"

Herc took the vacant seat next to Alexander and sighed, "John has loved you for years."

Alexander looked at him, more tears welling in his eyes, "No, that's impossible."

Laf shook their head slowly, "Mon ami, he has loved you ever since you two met."

Alexander shook his head quickly, tears springing from his eyes.

"Alex! Listen, please!" Herc said, grabbing the man by his shoulders.

Alexander's breathing was loud and jagged as Herc stared him down.

"John loved you more than anything. And he still does."

Laf nodded, adding on to Herc's sentence, "Oui! What is the only thing that John took that wasn't clothes?"

Alexander took a deep breath, "The p-picture of us that h-he kept on his n-nightstand."

Laf and Herc both nodded.

"And who stuck by you for all these years, no matter what was happening in his life?" Herc asked.

Alexander looked at his hands, fidgeting in his lap, "J-John."

"Exactly. Mon ami, never think that he didn't love you. He loves you so much," Laf said, wrapping their arm around Alexander.

Herc copied his partner's actions and sighed, "And he will come back one day, and tell you all of this yourself."

Alexander sobbed.

They sat there for an hour before George and Martha found them with Alexander curled up in a ball in Laf's lap and Herc massaging his back soothingly on Alexander's bed.

"Do you want to sleep over?" Martha asked, handing them another blanket. Laf and Herc nodded.

"Well, dinner is ready," George said, "We're having lasagna!" George tried to stay positive, but seeing his son in this state broke his heart.

"Do you want to eat, mon ami?" Laf asked.

Alexander shook his head, "No, but I'll sit with y'all."

He slipped John's sweatshirt over his head and followed his friends to the dining room downstairs. He sat silently at the table, hugging his own torso tightly, taking in the over sized sweatshirt that he was wearing.

Alexander stopped listening to the conversation as soon as they sat down. He looked around the house instead, trying to find anything that would keep his mind off of John.

That's when he saw it. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he held the sweatshirt closer to his chest.

There, in a glass vase sitting on a window seal, lay a single white rose in perfect condition.