entry sixteen

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you keep thanking me for your balenciaga hoodie. you tell me how soft it is and how warm it keeps you. i'm glad you like it. i was really hoping you would.

yesterday, you wore your new hoodie and i wore the yellow hoodie you gave me. the smell of you is starting to fade. it smells more like me now. i hope you don't hate the way i smell.

you met up with me at my locker before our last class today.

"zach, hey," you smiled, kinda breathlessly. you were blushing. "wanna walk to class with me?"

"oh, u-um, sure," i stuttered out, slinging my bag over my shoulder as we began to walk.

as we were walking side by side, my hand accidentally brushed against yours, our knuckles touching for a split second.

"s-sorry," i quickly apologized.

"z, if you're nervous around me, there's no need to be," you grinned. i smiled weakly.

our hands brushed again, but this time, you took my hand and interlocked our fingers. we walked through the halls holding hands and my heart was beating so loud against my chest i was almost certain you could hear it too.

i like the way your hand feels in mine. it's so amazing. it's like i'm whole. the way they mold together is perfect. i think you're perfect, corbyn.

~ zach :)
thursday
11.28.17
4:21 pm

journalism | zorbyn ✓Where stories live. Discover now