Unreadable

A cool, unemotional stare was the last thing he had imagined. Normally, he would have been able to see exactly what she was feeling just by looking at her, but today was different. The half-smile she reserved for him even in her most hostile moods was nowhere to be seen. That unexplainable twinkle in her eye was gone. Rage would have been preferable. A screaming, crying fit of attack would have been easier to deal with than this. She was calm, almost serene in her reaction. She'd had time. It was as though she'd been expecting it all along. Her quiet, unfeeling demeanour gave nothing away, and that cut him to the core. His mind raced through all the things she could be thinking, but found nothing that fit. 'React!' his mind screamed, but as she calmly cultivated her emotions, she gave nothing away. He'd never been so worried. He knew what he had done, and he'd prepared himself for what he thought would be all of the eventualities, but this one never occurred.

Still nothing. Weeks could have passed in the moments he'd been standing there, but her only movement was to slowly remove a strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear.

His mind started to wonder if she ever even cared. Surely, news like this deserved some sort of reaction?

She took a seat in her usual place, in her usual manner. She got on with her life as though he was never even there. He didn't know what to do. Her reaction, or lack thereof, had never been part of the plan. He knew she'd have something to say at some point, but he had no idea when, or what it would be. A short laugh escaped her lips as something funny happened in the tv show she'd returned to watching. Her life had just been turned upside down, and she was laughing. She was calm, and he couldn't work it out. His mind raced as he stared at the side of her head. The woman he thought he knew was baffling him, and all his decisions that led to this were thrown instantly into question. She wasn't the woman he thought he knew. She wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. She was stronger than that. She was calm. She was peaceful. She had control. She was unreadable.

The Care Taker

She sat outside the care taker's storage space. This was her spot now. The only spot she hadn't been bullied in. Probably because it smelled a little like sick, and a lot like dirty water...

She'd used this spot for several weeks now, and as she watched the care taker wander back and fore his duties, she often wondered if he was lonely. He didn't seem to have many people talk to him, and when anyone did talk to him, they were always just asking him to clean this, or fix that. She secretly wondered if he noticed her. She ashamedly wondered if he liked her. She didn't really care, but he seemed to be her last hope. He was that crush you have when there's no-one better around, but your hormones are telling you that you have to love someone, and it has to be now. But she reasons that the same could be said for any school crush – or at least in this school...

Care Taker Man rushed out of his tiny room, and she thought about his name. It was a big school, so it seemed he was just another face in the crowd to most people. She had never heard his name – not even from the people who spoke to him most often – and she found this sad.

Her lips formed the name Peter, before she took another bite of her home-made sandwich. Peter was a good name; old-fashioned, wholesome, befitting the quietness and gentile nature of the man she'd been so carefully watching. Urgh, she disgusted herself.

She closed her eyes as she took a long drink. Her food seemed tasteless, but she didn't mind, because she was distracted. She was lost in two eyes that had never actually looked into her own. She'd never been close enough to tell their colour, but she dreamed they were a hazel brown. The little black specks on his imagined iris' danced on her eyelids and she emptied her Dr Pepper. She missed those eyes when she went home, so she savoured them while at school.

Peter came back, with less white roll than when he left. Undoubtedly another spillage. And as the word spillage sprang to her mind, her inner poet leapt at the chance to write a love story of how he would spill his feelings to her one day... Maybe he would write her a note? And leave it in her spot? Or maybe he could finger-write a message on the window, instead of cleaning it as he usually did? She sighed, longingly feeding herself from her tub of grapes.

A clatter came from within the closed room, and her mind jumped from one fantasy to another, as she pictured herself running into the room to save him from whatever had fallen and trapped him. Maybe he would need CPR? Maybe he would have to thank her somehow...

Sadly, her disaster fiction faded almost immediately, as 'Peter' walked confidently out, wiping his brow with his sleeve, and huffing. It clearly wasn't a fun day, as she watched his muscles – which were much smaller than she remembered – move under the strain of movement.

Knowing he was gone again, she tried to recapture the image of his helpless body awaiting her rescue... but it, too, was gone. She tried another angle, hoping to get one last kiss from his lips before the bell rang for class. Now, she was laying helpless. Maybe she'd fainted? Maybe it was the heat? He'd lift her in his arms, and carry her to a bench, where he would lay her down and whisper for her to wake up, as he dabbed her face and forehead with a cold, damp cloth. Her heart quickened, and her breathing slowed as she fluttered her dream eyes open, ready to be with her saviour...

And the bell rang. Hastily, she packed up her bag, and worked up to a run to her next class. It wasn't even in this building, but the run will have been worth it, because she'd spent another lunchtime happy. Not alone, but loved. And that's all she's ever wanted, even for a little while.

The Bus Boy

Rachel had a love-hate relationship with the bus ride home. She loved the fact that college was over for the day. She loved the chats she had with her best friend, Becky. She loved the route and the sound of the struggling engine on the hills... but she hated that boy. But she loved that boy. That boy that always sat at the back of the bus, like the cool kid of the school. That boy that never looked twice at her, but when he hopped, uncaring, onto the bus each day, she loved the way his eyes always scanned the rest of the bus. Rachel didn't know where he was going, or where he'd been, but she loved his journey as much as she loved her own. She hated the fact that she couldn't do anything about it.

"You know he doesn't get off for at least another two stops..." Becky whispered into Rachel's ear, making her jump from her daydream.

"I know, but-"

"You can either talk to him, or hate yourself for another week. It's Friday. Before the holidays. Man up and do it!"

Rachel just stared at her best friend. She was right. If she was ever going to do this, it had to be now. With one last threatening, yet encouraging, look from Becky, Rachel stood unsteadily. 

The boy, in his big red hoodie, skinny jeans and tattered shoes that looked too big for him, sat in his usual back-corner seat, with one of his legs resting on the seat in front of him. He looked out of the window on every journey, but as Rachel approached, he looked toward her.

"Do you mind if I sit here, please?"

The boy just looked at her, with a shy smile for a moment. As the bus halted at another stop, Rachel stumbled forwards, but remained surprisingly calm. The boy smiled and nodded for her to sit.

Rachel's cheeks flushed, but luckily, he'd returned to looking out of the window. She plucked up the courage, and while staring at her hands, blurted her thoughts at him - "H-hey... So, I see you here quite a lot. I get the bus home every weekday and you seem to be here, like, three times a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, usually, but that's sounds kind of stalker-ish of me... Anyway, I see that you're always alone and that you get off at the stop just before mine, so I was kind of wondering if there was any way, because I often travel alone too, that maybe once in a while, or perhaps just once... We could travel together maybe? I mean it's fine if you don't want to, but I thought it would be nicer than sitting on your own. I know I could do with someone to talk to. Silence kills me. You can probably tell though, because I speak so quickly. I haven't let you say anything yet, but that's because I'm just nervous. I wouldn't be like this everyday. Look, my hands are shaking..."

She offered out her hand for him to see, but she was so busy looking at the grubby bus floor, she didn't know if he was laughing at her or not. Regardless, she plowed on.

"I guess you live pretty close to me, because you get off not too far away. I was thinking that if you wanted to, we could maybe even go out some time? Again, it's okay if you don't want to, I just thought... Maybe..."

Rachel gently reached out to the boy's hand in the space between them, and as she looked up at his face for the first time since she started talking, she noticed he was looking out of the window again. 

A little annoyed, but ever hopeful, she asked, "So what do you think?"

Slowly the boy lifted his head from the window pane, moved his hand from under hers, and looked her directly in the eyes. It's only when he spoke that she noticed he'd moved at all. She studied him as his lips moved, and his body moved with the bumps of the bus. He lifted his hands to the sides of his face, removed his earplugs and casually asked, "Huh?"

And Rachel never caught the bus again.

Ellie's Favourite

“If you had to pick your favourite Thompson,” Ellie's best friend, Jack, asked when he was supposed to be writing his essay, “who would it be?”

“You, silly,” she laughed. Jack was one of a large family; mostly brothers.

“Really?”

“Of course. Who else?” she could see him give her a funny look, but she ignored it.

“Okay...” he thought aloud, “if you had to put us in order of favourite...?”
“What are you on about?” she laughed again.

“Put us in order, favourite to least favourite.”

She shook her head, “I can't do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can't!”

“But I'm your favourite?”

“Yeah.”

“So it doesn't matter!”

“Get on with that,” she laughed again, shoving his essay into his face.

“Just tell me,” Jack persisted. “Or at least tell me who comes at the bottom of the list?”

Ellie shook her head, because she knew he wouldn't let this go. “Okay.”

Jack pushed all his things aside, and sat on the table in front of me. He placed his chin on his hands, and leaned intently into her, giving her all his attention.

“You're my favourite,” she said, “obviously.”

He nodded, urging her to continue.

“Next I'd have to say your Dad, because his fascination with weird stuff amuses me every time I'm at your house.”

Jack wrinkled his nose at this, because clearly, this wasn't the answer he was looking for.

“After him,” she said, “I'd have to pick Jenny, because she's strong, and God only knows how she puts up with the rest of you...” Jenny was the youngest of the family, and the only girl. Jack shook his head in disbelief.

“And next, it would be your Mum, for the same reasons.”

“Next?” he itched.

“Ben.”

“Why?”

“Because he's quiet, and funny, and he's often overlooked because of Taylor.”

“Since when do you like the quiet type?”

“Since now,” she blushed.

“Right...” he rolled his eyes, “And?”

“I admire Alex, so he's next.” Alex was the oldest, with a good job, and a beautiful wife. He was loving life, and that's all Ellie ever wanted to do.

Jack continued to shake his head. She knew what he was thinking, and she couldn't distract from that.

“If this goes where I think it's going, I know you're lying to me!” Jack accused.

“Where do you think it's going?”

“I think you're going to say that you prefer everyone to Taylor... or have you just forgotten about him?!”

“I don't like him! He's a bully, and I don't know why everyone loves him so much!”

“Because he's funny! He doesn't mean to hurt you.”

“But he does.”

“He hurts you?”

“Not physically...”

“What are you on about?”

“Like I said, Jack,” she became defensive now, “your brother is a bully.”

“So you prefer Ben to Taylor?”

“Yeah.”

“And that makes Taylor your least favourite Thompson?”

“Yeah.”

“What has he done to deserve that?!”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I am listening – but how is he bullying you?”

“He picks up on each of my weaknesses, and then teases me about them! He takes joy in other peoples' suffering, and I for one can't handle it!”

“I'm sure he doesn't mean to upset you...”

“That's just the problem. He doesn't know he's doing it. He doesn't understand.”
“What if I told him?”

“Don't you dare!” she shouted at him. A moment of quiet passed. “Sorry,” she muttered, “I just don't want him to know about this. I feel bad enough as it is.”

Jack nodded and pulled her into a friendly hug.

*

Meanwhile, Taylor sat on the stairs, just one paper-thin wall away. A single tear ran down his cheek as he listened to her fearful, angry words. As Ben, his twin, looked down and whispered, “You can fix this Tay.”

Taylor shook his head to himself, and wondered how he could ever make it up to her, and how he could ever let it get this far.

*

Taylor's hands shook as he wrote his note. He didn't know if anything he could do would win her back, but he had to try, because she'd always meant the world to him. He folded the note in half, and half again, then with a small flower attached, pinned it to a tree. He smiled gently to himself as he hoped beyond hope that this would be enough.

“I need to show you something,” Jack dragged her across the courtyard.

“What?” Ellie laughed, as she tried to stay on her feet.

“Someone has something to say to you,” he pulled her along.

“I know you love me Jackie,” she teased, “but I just don't feel the same way.”

He laughed, but his cheeks turned a little red anyway, “It's not me.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, loosing breath.

“You'll see.”

As they reached a lone tree near the lake by the large family's house, she saw that among the half-hearted spring they were having, was a rainbow of flowers, brightening up the whole area. There were colours in the petals she was sure she'd never seen before, and they spread so beautifully from the tree. She rushed to them, and stroked the course paper, as she admired the effort someone must have gone to, to fold all these delicate, multicoloured shapes.

Jack coughed to get her attention.

“Yeah?” she asked, with a huge smile.

He nodded towards the tree, where the note moved slightly in the breeze.

“What is it?” she asked, but Jack was walking away.

She unpinned and unfolded the note, slipping the tiny paper flower into her pocket. To her surprise, she didn't recognise the handwriting. It was messy, as though someone couldn't write as fast as they thought. It was written in blue ink, but had small red heart in the corner.

Confused and excited, she began to read;

This is a note to say I'm sorry. I know I've treated you badly, and I know I should have been a lot nicer to you. My problem is that I don't know how.

She looked around. There was no-one around.

I can tell you in this note, because I've had a lot of time to think it over. But as you can probably tell, once I started writing, it all flooded out.

She gave a short, nervous laugh.

That's what happens when you're truthful. There's nothing that can hold you back.

So, like I said, this is an apology for the way I've treated you in the past, and it's a promise that I will always be the best person I can be, from now on, for you.

She looked around again.

The truth is, I've only ever picked on you, because I thought you understood what I meant by it all.

Now she knew who it was, and although part of her was touched, another part was warning her – this could be another one of his tricks.

I act the way I do because I like you. I only tease the people I think have the strength of character to take it, and I'm sorry that I took it too far with you. I know you're a strong person, because you've stuck through it all this time, but I'm sorry that I didn't realise that it was so hard for you. I promise I'll never do it again.

At this point, she couldn't decide what to feel. Was this a new side to the Taylor she knew? Was it even his note? Where was he, and what did he have planned that would ruin it all?

I know I'm rambling, but I hope it shows how bad I feel for ever letting you think that there was anything but admiration for you. I just hope that you can forgive me, and I hope that you can give me another chance.

She thought about this for a while, standing there in silence. The early spring breeze made her shiver, but she just stared at the writing. Her eyes followed the creases that had been made where he'd folded it, and the smudge in the corner, where he'd obviously been too rushed to keep it neat.

I hope you can talk to me after this, because there's something very important I have to say. Something I could never tell you in writing. Something you have to know, or I don't think I could ever live with myself.

Please say you'll talk to me.

The note ended there. She stared around the grassy area, moving slowly around the tree, but there was still no-one there. The sky was growing darker, though it was just after midday. She felt the first drops of rain splatter softly onto her nose, and she panicked for the flowers. One by one, she grabbed the origami from the ground, pulling them from the soon-to-be-mud, with what seemed to be stretched out paper clips that had been holding them in place.

She shook my head in disbelief – what was she supposed to do now? She looked back to where Jack had gone, then down at the collection of paper flowers she'd gathered. She tried to walk back to Jack's house, but with each step, she lost another flower. She didn't know why they were so important, but they were. She took another look at the note, hoping that there would be an answer in the writing.  

Please say you'll talk to me.

“I'll talk to you,” she said aloud.

Suddenly, leaves started falling from the tree above her head, as Taylor rushed clumsily down towards her.

“Really?” he panted as he reached her. “You'll talk to me?”

“Of course,” she blushed, still somewhat confused, and frustrated, her arms still full of paper.

“Will you please forgive me? I know I've treated you horribly, but I need you to know how sorry I am.”

She raised the note for him to see, with a small smile on her face. “I know.”

“So?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?” he looked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” she managed to nod before she was scooped up into his warm embrace. As the rain began to fall more heavily, she felt warm in his arms.

“You're crushing the flowers,” she muttered against his chest. She didn't know why, but the mixed smells of the musky weather and Taylor made her weak at the knees.

“Don't worry,” he squeezed her, “there are plenty more where they came from.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'll make you one, everyday, first thing, if you'll let me?”

“Why wouldn't I?”

She felt a strange disappointment as he let her go, but he quickly grabbed both of her hands, scattering all the flowers, and looked longingly into her eyes. “There's something I have to tell you,” he repeated what he'd written.

She smiled, and looked back into his eyes – for the first time captured in the mischievous look he had there, rather than worried that he had something terrible planned. There was something in the way he smiled now, that told her that she didn't have to worry.

“Like I said in the note, I only tease people I think have the character to take it. I know I took it way too far with you, but I have to admit, I only did it because I thought your character was the strongest I'd ever met. There's something about the way you handle yourself – your smile and your eyes – that tell me that you're much more than any of the other girls I know. Now I know that no matter how strong someone is, what I do can be challenging, and to someone like you, I'm not worth the effort.”
She tried to stop him talking, but he wouldn't let her.

“I understand. I still want to take advantage of how amazing you are, but in a whole new way. Instead of using you for my jokes, I want to spend time with you, learn from you, and just be with this special person I've admired for so long. I'm sorry that I didn't know how to express this before, but it goes to show that you're completely new to me – you're more amazing, and beautiful, than anyone I've ever seen before, and I didn't know how to handle it.”

He paused, but she had nothing she could say.

“I overheard you talking to Jack the other day, and I'm more than willing to work my way back up the list. I get why I was your least favourite Thompson, but I hope that one day I'll be up there with Jack... If not at the top.”

They exchanged soft laughter as his cheeks grew redder, and the rain began to pour, slowly soaking them both.

“You're at the top of my list,” he whispered. “Of every list, Ellie. You're my favourite person ever, and from now on, it's my mission to make sure you know that.”

Tears ran down her face, luckily hidden in the rain. She'd never seen Taylor this way, but maybe some part of her always knew it was there. She'd always secretly liked the bad boy, but she liked this even more.

“It's a stupid time to tell you, because you're just getting to really know me, but I have to say it – I love you.”

As their hair dripped rain water into their eyes, and their clothes were soaked to their skin, her whole body shivered, as Taylor pressed himself against her, held her tight, and whispered it again, “I love you.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, and they smiled together. He cautiously moved his lips closer, before she closed the gap. She didn't if she loved him, but there was one thing she did know... if this was life with him, then it would be fun finding out!

Snake Eyes

The film was getting boring. Snake and Lee had set the whole room up for a scary night in with a horror movie. The lights off, the curtains drawn, the phone disconnected, mobiles on silent, and a massive blanket covering the both of them. They had popcorn and Coke, and had just polished off a pizza. But the film sucked.

“Why Snake?” Lee asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you change your name to Snake?”

“What makes you think I wasn't born with this name?”

“Because no-one calls their child Snake.”

“Why do you go by Lee?”

“It's short for Lisa...”

“I know that, but most girls called Lisa go by Lisa.”

“But I'm not most girls.”

“And I'm not most guys,” Snake smirked.

Lee laughed a little, but stayed curious, “Seriously though, why did you change your name?”

Snake looked down at his hands for several moments, before muttering, “I didn't like who I was, so I changed it.”

Lee could see that he didn't want to talk about it, so she nudged him playfully. When he looked up, she give him a sweet smile and said, “Well I like you now, so I'm glad you did.”

Snake smiled, “Me too.”

They settled back down to watch the film, but still nothing was happening.

Her hand slipped over to his, and she squeezed. Lee and Snake were only friends, but Lee knew she wanted more. She knew that somewhere hidden in this guy was a horrible past, but ahead of him lay a happy future, because he was that kind of guy. And she knew that she wanted to be a big part of it.

“Wanna do something else?”

“Sure. What're you thinking?”

“Don't know.”

“Another film?”

“Nah.”

“Then what?”

“How about a game?”

“You're not going to suggest Truth or Dare, or Spin The Bottle now, are you?” he winked playfully. It was obvious that Snake knew about Lee's love for him, but he never seemed to show anything in return, or act upon it in any way, other than to tease her.

“No!” Lee defended.

“Okay, so what are you suggesting?”

“Maybe a board game?”

“What?! You wanna play Dungeons and Dragons?”

“How do you even know what that is?” Lee laughed, “And no, I meant more along the lines of... Snakes and Ladders!”

“Where do you get your inspiration?” Snake laughed.

Lee rolled her eyes and pulled out her old game.

Snake smirked again and asked slyly, “So is this going to be strip Snakes and Ladders?”

“Only if we only strip Snakes and ladders,” she laughed.

“I'm so confused,” he laughed too.

“I basically said you can get naked if you want, but I'm not.”

“Where's the fun in that?!”

They smirked at each other, as she set the game up. This was the kind of thing they would do together all the time, because, quite honestly, they would do anything to spend time together.

“You can go first, seeing as your name is on the box,” Lee laughed.

“Yours is too!” he chuckled, pointing at a crayon-scrawled 'Lisaa' on the lid.

“That doesn’t count!” she rolled her eyes, “My name is Lee. Not Lisaaaaaah.” She emphasised her younger-self's spelling error.

Snake continued to laugh, while he rolled the die. They placed with two, because there were two in the box. Neither one was the original for the game. They often made the rules up, as well, just to keep things interesting.

“Five.” Snake tapped his button five spaces across.

“Cool,” Lee rolled, “Seven!” She pulled a smug face as she danced her coin across seven spaces.

“That's it,” Snake laughed, “the fake rules are coming out!”

“Go ahead!”

“The first one to the finish, loses!”

“No way!”

“Yes, way!”

“No!”

“It's that, or strip Snakes and Ladders, where we BOTH have to do it!”

“Okay, so whoever finishes first loses.”

“Aw,” Snake gave a disappointed groan, but with a playful smile on his lips.

They rolled again, and again.

“How do you always beat me, even when I make up the rules?!” Snake moaned, looking into Lee's eyes to try to work out her magic. He never could.

She rolled the dice, but as she let go of them, he lifted her chin, so she would look at him. She stared for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to work out how you always win,” Snake whispered, staring into her eyes.

“I don't,” she giggled nervously.

“If you've rolled a low number,” he stopped her from looking down, “I swear to God I'll...”

He trailed off, and Lee just knelt there, waiting for him.

Moments passed, and nothing, “You'll what?”

Snake looked down briefly and grinned widely when he looked back into her eyes, “This.”

Still holding her chin up towards him, Snake leaned in and kissed her gently, slowly, yet confidently on the lips. Her eyes closed with the pressure of his lips against her own. She pushed back into him, while the kiss lasted. She didn't have time to think, she could only feel.

As he pulled easily away, she kept her eyes closed. She was somewhere else now. She still couldn't think – she was too lost in the feeling on her lips. He'd gone, yet she could still feel him. Her eyes flitted open. She opened to mouth to ask him something, but no words came.

He had his signature smirk plastered on, as he pointed down toward the die. Snake eyes.

Lee looked at him and smiled. She stared into his eyes and said, “I'll never look at snake eyes the same again.”

"Do You Hear Me Now?"

“We're more than just friends,” I whisper against George's deaf ear. I know he won't hear me, but that's okay, because I've never actually told him before.

His soft breath tickles my neck as we hug. He always gives the best hugs. I feel like I belong in his arms. Through all the years I've known him, and through all the stuff we've been through, I've known that I'll always be with him.

“Did you say something?” he asks as he pulls slowly away.

“Nope.”

“I swear I heard you...”

“Nope, nothing,” I shrug with a smile. He smiles too, which makes my insides quiver with excitement. He's so beautiful.

Before we hugged, we'd been talking for hours. We'd talked about our past together. We talked about school, and the countless times we'd been in trouble. We remembered the times we would run through the corridors of the maths department, and hide from each other for the fun of it. We reminisced about the way we used to stay up all night, and realised we were doing it again. I'd looked at my watch, and smiled.

“It's 3am,” I laughed. And then he had hugged me.

“This is great,” he says.

“What is?” I ask, although I know exactly what he means.

“This. Us. This is how we're supposed to be. We're supposed to be relaxed, chatting, laughing...”

“We laugh a lot,” I giggle.

He nods, a massive grin on his face. “I've missed this.”

“Me too.”

“What happened to us?”

“Stuff...” I say, not wanting to go into it.

He nods again, his face more solemn now, as he thinks about it too.

I pull him into another hug. This time, I rest my chin on his other shoulder, so I can talk into his good ear. “I've missed you, George.”

“I've missed you too.”

“I know we've been together most of the time,” I laugh, “but I think tonight is the first time, in a long time, that I've seen the George I used to know.”

“I know,” I hear him smile. “Sorry I went away.”

“Don't worry,” I squeeze him tighter, “I understand.”

“You're always here,” he laughs, pulling away slightly to look into my eyes.

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking around his flat.

“You might as well live here!”

I laugh, “That's true...”

He laughs too, “Want to?”

“What?!”

“Do you want to move in with me?”

“What are you talking about, Mr?”

“I'm asking you, as my best friend, to move in with me, so we can do this more often, and spend everyday together.”

I close my eyes and rest my forehead on his chest. He squeezes me tight to his body, and to breathe, I place my chin on his shoulder (next to the deaf ear again). The urge to kiss his neck is overwhelming, but I catch myself in time. I press my face against his skin and sigh. I feel him shiver.

“What's wrong?”

“I wish I was more than your best friend,” I whisper, quieter than ever.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he repeats when he doesn't hear my answer.

“Nothing,” I mutter.

“Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not! It's just a big question.”

“What? To move in with me?”

I nod.

“Okay... Take your time – you don't have to! I was only half serious anyway...”

“I want to!” I admit quickly.

“Then what's the problem? It's not like I asked you to marry me!”

My face drops.

“What's with the face...?” I can see him working it out. “You want me to ask you to marry me?”

“No!” I hastily reply.

“Then what?”

I look him in the eyes, with a shy smile on my lips. “I'd wanna be wined and dined first...”

He laughs. I laugh too, but it's a nervous giggle. I pluck up the courage from within and continue, “I'm serious, you. How long do I have to be there for you, hug you, and tell you I love you before you take the hint?!”

“What do you mean?” he looks bewildered.

“I.” I say this really slowly, “Love.” I pause between each word. “You.” I give him a moment, before adding, “I really love you George, and I wish you could see! Every time we hug, I tell you how I feel, all the things I wish I could just come out with, I whisper them into your useless ear.”

“What?!” I can see him starting to smirk.

“I pour my heart out to that ridiculous scar tissue of yours, hoping, I suppose, that one day you'll actually hear me, or maybe that it'll sink into that equally useless brain of yours!”

“Alright!” he laughs, “no need for the abuse!”

“It's been forever!” I continue, “I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and the night you lost that hearing was one of the scariest nights of my life! But it gave me to opportunity to tell you everyday that I wish we could be more than friends, and that I love you more than words could ever say!”

He walks me to a chair, and sits me down.

I take a deep breath, but now I've started, I can't stop - “I say I love you everyday, but you've always thought I meant it as a best friend... and I did, but I also meant so much more! I love you, George...” A few moments passed in terrifying silence, “Do you hear me now?”

George chuckled lowly to himself. “I thought I was making it up. I hear you. I've always heard you.”

“What?” My heart is racing, and his reaction is puzzling and frustrating.

“I've always heard you saying that we should be more than friends. I've always heard you say you love me. And I'm sure I've heard you singing to me. When we hug, I always close my eyes, and hope that what I'm hearing isn't in my head, because although I can feel your breath on my skin, I could never have believed that you would be saying those things to me.”

“Why didn't you say anything?!”

“Why didn't you?” he asks seriously.

“But you heard what I was saying!”

“I didn't dare believe it!” he huffed, standing me up again.

I feel tears of confusion flooding from my eyes as he sits in the seat he moved me from, and pulls me down onto his lap.

“I can't believe you,” I whisper.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers back, wiping the tears from my cheek with his thumb.

“I still love you though, you prat,” I laugh.

“I love you too,” he replies, and fresh tears stream down my face, as I feel relieved, and happier than I've ever known. He adds, “I always have, and I always will. And from now on, please can you tell me in my good ear, because I'll never get tired of hearing it...”

I laugh and nod, before his gentle lips press against mine and we hold each other until the sun peeks through the window, and it's time to start our lives together.