imagines ; d.t.

g.d. | memories.

Your POV
I sighed and put my wavy hair up into a ponytail. My whole room had pretty much been packed up, the only box left resting on the top shelf of my closet. I reached as high as I could until I caught the corner edge of it, pulling it closer to the edge until I could pull it all the way down. I laid it down on my bed and took the lid off, a wave of nostalgia rushing over me as soon as I laid eyes on what was inside.

My memory box from years and years ago. The last time I saw it was probably three or four years ago. The picture that laid on top of the mess caused a large smile to crawl across my face. It had small holes on the top and corners of it from thumb tacking it to my wall so many times.

It was a photo of Grayson and I from when we were freshmen. A photo my mom had forced us to take together, but right before she took it, Grayson burped louder than I think he has still probably ever burped. I laughed until I was in tears, resulting in an image of me with my ugly laughing smile, and him with his mouth wide open.

It wasn't that long ago, and yet it feels like we were babies. I remember him in freshman year. He had a typical white boy haircut, glasses, and wore nothing but hoodies and basketball shorts. He looks so different now, but sometimes I miss this version of him. He was so easy to make fun of. Now I can hardly find a part on him to criticize. Damn puberty had to go and make him all perfect.

I sat the picture to the side of the box, diving further in to see what else was there. A pressed flower from the first bouquet of flowers he ever bought me, the receipt from our first date, birthday cards he'd given me with sappy letters written in...

A stack of photos was leaning against the inner wall of the box. It had a very thin rubber band holding them all together, that was probably bound to break the next time it was touched. I picked up the stack and removed the band. I snapped into small pieces and fell into the box.

They were polaroids from my original polaroid camera I got for Christmas one year. I got four packages of film along with the camera, and him and I used up all of them the very next day. Man, did I get an earful from my mom. Polaroid film is pricey stuff.

I fanned out the pictures in my hands like a handful of cards until one in particular caught my eye. I took if from the assortment and laid down the others.

It was one of Grayson and I kissing, but also laughing. The picture was blurry, like his or my hand had moved when we took it. The others were all selfies. All kinds of weird selfies.

More and more photos were spread throughout the box. I could probably spend the whole rest of today looking through them and still never reach the last one.

It was all lighthearted until I began digging towards the bottom. Envelopes were held together with rubber bands, small boxes for jewelry, and loose change. I picked up one of the envelopes and tore a line down the top crease. Inside was a piece of notebook paper with sloppy handwriting. I unfolded the paper and began reading. I could barely make out the words until I finally realized what it was.

One of the worst fights Grayson and I have ever had was during our Sophomore year. I can't remember what it was about, but I can remember how much I hated him after it. I couldn't even look at him without bursting into tears. A few weeks after it, we still weren't on speaking terms, until I got this certain slip of paper taped to my locker door.

I remember the whole rest of the year I kept it in my backpack to read whenever I needed a reason to smile. A written apology from him. He went on and on about how sorry he was and how much he loved me, and still, even now, reading it has the same effect on me.

Tears began to fill my eyes as I continued digging around, finding more and more pictures and notes and letters and small trinkets with no meaning until you know the story behind them. My entire high school career would have been a huge waste of time without him. He made it all worth it.

"Hey, babe. The moving truck will be here in about fifteen minutes. You all packed up?" A voice said from the doorway of my room. I turned around to see him standing there, in his black t-shirt and ripped jeans, looking as perfect as always.

I set down the items from the box and walked over to him, cupping his face in my hands, and pressing my lips to his. He smiled slightly and wrapped his arms around my waist. I pulled back and hugged him tightly, burying my face in his neck. "What was that for?" He asked, kissing my exposed shoulder from my lose adidas tank top.

I shrugged. "Nothing. I just love you."