After visiting Gabby, I decided that I would try to visit her as much as I can. By as much as I can, I mean every day. And that night, after hours of lying in bed thinking of her (without crying this time), I decided it was about time I went back to school. Well, not the next day—I was in no shape to go to school next day, for God's sake—but the next week.
Johnny came over after school the next day (yesterday), as it was a Friday, and brought some of the work I missed. The moment he saw me, I saw pity in his eyes, and I hated it, but couldn't blame him. I would pity me, too, seeing that I hadn't been eating, or sleeping, well and all I'd been doing was crying, and so my eyes were puffy and red. I probably looked horrible that day especially; I didn't sleep all night after visiting Gabby.
Johnny helped me with some of the things he brought, explaining them and helping me do their parts of my pile of homework, and never once mentioned Gabby or what happened. I never told him but the school decided it was best to tell the students, and so he knew, but never actually talked to me about it. Apart from a text that said, I know what happened, I'll be here if you need anything, neither of us mentioned it.
He stayed for dinner, and we studied until I was going to collapse from my sleep deprivation, so he told me he was going to come over the next day (today) and left. I appreciated him knowing I was going to need help without me saying anything, and sacrificed a weekend he could've spent with his friends or girlfriend, just to help me out.
Johnny coming over didn't only prevent me from visiting Gabby yesterday, but helped me forget about her even if it was for a few hours of studying. I appreciated that. I appreciated Johnny, more than I'd ever done before. Today, though, I told him to come a little later than we agreed, and visited Gabby in the morning. Her mother was there, she was by the bed, looking more tired than ever.
She hadn't noticed me yet, so I knocked lightly on the door of the room. She looked up at me and mustered a small smile, and I suddenly remembered today's date. It was her birthday. I walked up to her and she stood up to pull me into a tight hug, letting out a shaky breath. "Happy birthday," I whispered into her hair.
"Thank you, honey."
I tried to joke around, apologizing for not bringing her anything because I didn't expect her to be there (even if I knew, I wouldn't have been able to get her what she really wanted), and she cracked a tiny smile. Though the smile was minuscule, I knew it was genuine, the gratitude behind her eyes said it all. She appreciated me trying to lighten the mood. We sat down in the chairs either side of Gabby and talked for a while. She told me something I never knew, and I was actually shocked by it.
That's probably the only reason I'm sitting on my desk right now, writing a letter for the second day in a row. I haven't done that in what feels like ages, but it doesn't feel as comforting as it used to. Writing letters now came with sadness, and I can't help but notice the tear stains on the more recent letters, and how they smudged the words full of despair.
—
idk what to say in the a/n bc i'm tired. so, hi. nice to meet you. do you like bread?
kidding. what do you think jenny told mark?
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Loving You (Loving #1) | ✓
Short Story[SHORT CHAPTERS] * falling in love with you was the best thing that has ever happened to me. but the process of loving you has been the worst thing i've ever been through. * In which a boy with a broken heart writes letters to the girl h...
