I pulled the small folded paper from the box. It was faded, and slightly tattered, but was still in pretty good condition.
I didn't know why I kept it in that damn box. I always went in there, pulling it out every few months or so. Why I didn't just keep it in a more handy spot was beyond me.
I placed the box on the floor beside me, as I lowered myself to a sitting position.
I glanced at the box beside me, its contents filled with memories. Everything we had been through together. The movie ticket-stub from our first date. A picture of us on our one-year anniversary. Cards from Christmas, Valentines Day, my birthday. Special moments on our relationship were marked by the items in that box.
But none of those items held the meaning that this one, simple piece of paper held.
I looked down at it in my hand, a smile inadvertently coming to my face.
Unfolding it gently, my smile widened as I read over the words.
He had written me a lot of notes before this one. Usually just the same old ramblings. He had a tendency to ramble. A lot!
I had kept all the notes. They had a box of their own. There were too damn many of them to have to put them in with something else. I was just glad that we wrote them all in notebooks rather than loose sheets of paper. That would be hell to have to deal with. I didnt even want to think about how many notebooks were in the box that still sat in the closet.
His notes were usually just another way for him to talk to me. Even if we were sitting right beside each other, sometimes we would just write notes back a forth, instead of speaking. For some reason, to us, it was a more honest way of communication. You were able to write things that would may not have been able to say out loud.
We would sit on the tour bus, the other guys busy playing video games, watching TV, or just goofing off. We each had our own little lap-desk, making it easier to write. JC had given them to us since we spent so much time writing notes to each other. He figured they would come in handy. I loved writing notes with him. I felt like a kid back in school, passing notes to a friend subtly so the teacher wouldn't catch me.
We would write about the show he had done that night. What we were going to do the next day. Even what kind of prank we were going to pull on Joey. Nothing ever too serious.
It was when he started writing serious things that our little game became more interesting.
It was another normal night. The guys had just finished another concert, and we were on the bus headed for the next city. He and I were sitting across from each other on one of the small couches, while the other guys wandered around the bus, bothering the driver, playing games in the back, or whatever it was that they did when they couldn't sleep.
It was true that it was easier to write things sometimes than say them aloud, so when he wrote me asking if I ever thought of him as more than a friend, I was a little shocked. I knew there was no way in hell he would ever ask me that out loud, so I understood why he was so persistent that night on writing notes to each other.
I had just stared at his question for a while, before looking up at him. I almost half expected him to be smiling. That famous, mischievous grin that he always had when playing around. But his face was serious. And really nervous.
I turned my attention back to his note, reading over the question a few more times.
In all honesty, I had thought about him as more than a friend. For a long time now. And I had always thought about what it would be like if he thought of me the way I thought of him, but never actually thought he would. And certainly never thought he would ask me about it.
I wasn't sure if he was asking me because he maybe noticed that I was looking at him differently, or because he was the one looking at me differently. I thought about what to answer, whether or not to give up my little secret this way. If I said yes, and he wasn't feeling the way I was, then things would be screwed up between us. If I said no, and he was asking because he was feeling more than just friendship towards me and I just shot him down, then things were going to be even more screwed up. So either way, I would be screwed.
Looking up at him once more, I blinked a few times before looking back down and writing the first thing that I could.
I handed the note back to him quickly, folding it over so Chris wouldn't read it as he walked by. Chris looked over at us, laughing. "Hey guys," he yelled. "They're playing their note game again!" Thankfully, he didn't hang around to bug us. He just grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before joining the other guys in the back.
He looked at the folded note for what seemed like forever. Almost like he didn't actually want to know the answer. Finally, he flipped it over, and I could see his eyes scanning down to the last entry.
He smiled.
He immediately began writing again, his tongue sticking out slightly as he wrote. He always did that. Whenever he was concentrating on something, his tongue would stick out.
Finishing quickly, he passed the note back to me again.
My eyes scanned down our note. It was pretty long. We were already near the bottom of the second page, and we had only just then began to actually say something other than 'I'm bored' or 'Do you want a cookie?'
Reaching his last message, I read it over.
Was he serious? Surely, he wasn't serious. Five minutes ago he was asking me if I liked him as more than a friend, and now he was asking me if I loved him? He certainly didnt waste any time, now did he? He knew I loved him as a friend, so I knew that wasn't the kind of love he meant.
I looked up at him, and the sly smile on his face. He was actually enjoying this! Shouldn't he be all nervous and shit? I know I sure as hell was.
I looked back down at the page, reading over his question again and again.
I knew the answer. I didn't even have to think about it. I had known it for a while. But knowing it, and admitting it are two completely different things.
He probably figured I would just write it and pass it back. The whole 'its easier to write stuff than say it' trick. But this time, it wasn't that easy. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to actually write those words. What words would I write? Seriously, who confessed something like this, by writing notes like this. I found it funny that we were writing this, when on the other side of that page was him talking about Joey farting the night before at sound check, causing Lance to laugh so hard he fell off the stage.
Would this kind of moment; this kind of confession forever be found on the reverse side of Joeys gas?
I kept staring at the note, reading over a few of the previous questions, and statements. I looked over some of the little drawings he had made in the margin of the page. Little stick people, a sun, flowers. And what I assumed was a bird. Or a dog. I wasn't sure.
I could feel him moving around on the couch across from me. He was obviously getting nervous at how long I was taking to reply. But I couldn't seem to make myself write anything. I wanted to. I wanted to tell him, but my God, my hands wouldn't reach up to the page and write the fucking words. I needed something more simple.
Finally, he sighed loudly. I looked up as he grabbed the notebook back from me. Flipping the page over, he started on a clean slate.
His hand glided across the page, as I stared at him confused. What was he writing? Was he going to tell me to forget it, that he was just kidding? Was he going to bitch at me for making him sit there like that? Honestly, he had to know that it wasn't so easy writing an answer to his question. He had to give me a break!
Finally, he pulled his hand back from the page, staring at it for a moment. His eyes scanned the message he had just written, as if he was debating on whether or not to actually give it to me.
Turning the notebook around so I could read it properly, he placed it back in my lap.
I looked at his face. His blue eyes were looking directly into mine, but his face was unreadable. He was good at that. Making his face unreadable when he didn't want someone to know he was nervous, or upset.
I lowered my head to look at the message in my lap.
I read it over. Then again. And again.
Maybe it was good that he knew me so well. That he knew me well enough to know that some things were hard even to write. That maybe I needed something a little simpler than having to write the words out.
Reading over the message again, I smiled.
Raising my eyes to his, suddenly his question didn't seem to hard to answer anymore.
I lowered my eyes back to the page, and placed my hand on it.
Slowly, I guided my hand over the page, giving him my answer. I could see his eyes following the motions of my hand, his breathing quick and nervous. He seemed as if he would jump out of his skin at that moment if someone said 'Boo'
Finishing, I handed the notebook back to him confidently. I didn't regret what I had chosen. For the first time in a while, I thought it was the best thing I had ever written.
He took the notebook from my hands, looking me in the eye as he placed in it his lap. He stared at me, almost like he didn't want to look at the page. But finally, he lowered his eyes, locking them on the answer I had given.
He heard a quick intake of breath, before his eyes jumped to mine.
I smiled back at him, and the shocked yet relieved expression on his face.
We sat there for a while, staring at each other.
Without warning, he jumped across the couch at me, pulling me into his arms. We sat there, holding on as if we were each others lifeline.
Smiling over his shoulder, I knew my life was never going to be the same.
Looking over the note for the millionth time, it still caused me to smile.
I never expected him to make it this simple.
'When you love someone, put their name in a circle, not a heart. Because a heart can be broken. But a circle never ends.'
I smiled wider as I lowered my eyes.
I looked at his name under the little message.
The sound of someone behind me turned my attention from the note in my hand.
He sat down behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I leaned back into his chest, feeling his chin in the side of my neck.
"You readin' that again?" he asked.
I nodded.
"I couldn't think of an easier way for you to answer me. This way, you didn't have to write actual words." He smiled, proud at his solution.
"I gotta hand it to ya, Justin." I grinned, leaning my cheek against his. "You couldn't have said it better if you tried"
I could feel him smile against my neck as I looked down at the note again.
Raising my hand to the page, I touched the line that I had made that night. The one that sealed our fate.
Running my finger along the line, I traced the circle around his name.
