Disclaimer: Okay, I own *nothing.*
A/N: This is the last chapter. I know, it's way short, but this one was always intended to have a quick ending. It was just a ficlet. If I had been thinking, I would have simply posted it all in one chapter. No matter. I hope you enjoyed it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What I really meant to say,
Is I'm dying here inside.
And I miss you more each day.
There's not a night I haven't cried.
And, baby, here's the truth,
I'm still in love with you.
Yeah…
That's what I really meant to say."
-Caroylne Johnson, What I Really Meant to Say
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He took the envelope and slid it open.
"I always carry it with me," I answered his unasked question.
He pulled out the simple sheet and read it with questioning eyes. I knew what it said by heart.
"Dear Gordo,
My whole life, it seems, that you've been there. A part of me, a part of every instant of my life. Everything I have ever wanted has been wrapped up with you. I never wanted or needed anything that didn't have David Gordon carefully attached.
Maybe I'm not being clear enough.
I love you, Gordo.
I love everything about you. The way your eyes narrow when you think I'm lying. Heck, the way you can always *tell* when I'm lying. The way you can make me laugh. The way you know, like, everything. And, God forgive me, I always have.
I need you, Gordo. And I know that these words seem silly coming from the pen of an 8th (almost 9th) grader, but you need to know. So that we go on to high school, we are either LizzieandGordo, or Lizzie and Gordo.
The choice is up to you.
It always has been.
Your Friend, or Maybe More,
Lizzie."
He looked up when he was through.
"What is this?"
I forced a smile. "It's what I was going to write in your yearbook. You know, I never got the chance because you left, but it was what I was going to write."
His face was as red as the apple I had ate that morning. "Lizzie, I don' know what to say."
Not the response I was looking for, but I'd take what I could get.
"You don't have to say anything. I know you never felt the same way. But, the way things are going, I can't image that I'll ever see you again, and I wanted to… You know… Make sure it was clear."
I studied my feet silently, just enjoying the feeling of knowing that I was standing there with my best friend. And the guy that I loved.
"I should let you go," I said finally, unable to take the quiet for even an instant more. "It's looks like it's clearing up outside."
He followed my gaze to the window and I could see the agreement cross his face.
"Right then."
"Wouldn't want you to miss your flight," I continued.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"How was I supposed to? By the time I realized, you were about to leave."
"I would have understood."
"Like the last thing I wanted to hear you say was, 'I'm sorry, Lizzie,'" I snapped sarcastically.
I had a point and he knew it. His bright blue eyes were clouded over with confusion, and… something else. Something that looked suspiciously like regret.
"I should go," he said, but made no motion to move. We were, after all, sitting at *my* gate.
"I hope you enjoy L.A.," I lied.
"Where did you say you were going?"
"I didn't. But to visit Miranda."
He paled slightly at her name.
"Miranda? It's been a long time since I've seen her."
"Forget?"
"Of course not."
And, I supposed, he probably hadn't. But he was learning to. And maybe that was what this whole thing was about. Well, I'd make it easy for him.
"It was good seeing you again." With that, I rose to my feet and turned away, moving closer to the information desk.
I thought he had gone, as I stood there, silently observing the planes outside. That is, until I felt his hand rest on my shoulder.
"Please leave me alone," I breathed.
"I can't," he returned. And I turned to meet his eyes.
"I'm so sorry I hurt you," he whispered.
I shrugged, determined not to cry, not to get too caught up in the feelings surging my heart. He didn't love me. He never had. This was just guilt.
"It doesn't matter."
"Then why are you crying?" He brushed a tear from my cheek, and didn't remove his hand when he was finished.
"Dust."
He laughed, and maybe I did too. It was hard to tell. But with his laughter came himself, the Gordo that I had been missing for so long. And with IT, came the gratitude. The overwhelming, overpowering gratitude.
"I loved you all along," he whispered, his face nearly inches from my own.
"I hoped-"
"I was too-"
"I should have-"
"If only-"
I held up my hand to stop us both.
"How about this," I suggested, smiling broadly and truly for the first time in years. "I love you too."
And he kissed me and it didn't matter that in 20 minutes I'd have to board a plane in one direction and he in another. And it didn't matter that when he moved back two mouths later my father spent a full hour lecturing me on the importance of being in by curfew. And it didn't matter that Miranda refused to speak to him for a month, as punishment for being ignored (but when she forgave him, I reached a total peak of happiness). None of it mattered. Because I had my soul back.
And I had never felt more joy.
A/N: This is the last chapter. I know, it's way short, but this one was always intended to have a quick ending. It was just a ficlet. If I had been thinking, I would have simply posted it all in one chapter. No matter. I hope you enjoyed it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What I really meant to say,
Is I'm dying here inside.
And I miss you more each day.
There's not a night I haven't cried.
And, baby, here's the truth,
I'm still in love with you.
Yeah…
That's what I really meant to say."
-Caroylne Johnson, What I Really Meant to Say
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He took the envelope and slid it open.
"I always carry it with me," I answered his unasked question.
He pulled out the simple sheet and read it with questioning eyes. I knew what it said by heart.
"Dear Gordo,
My whole life, it seems, that you've been there. A part of me, a part of every instant of my life. Everything I have ever wanted has been wrapped up with you. I never wanted or needed anything that didn't have David Gordon carefully attached.
Maybe I'm not being clear enough.
I love you, Gordo.
I love everything about you. The way your eyes narrow when you think I'm lying. Heck, the way you can always *tell* when I'm lying. The way you can make me laugh. The way you know, like, everything. And, God forgive me, I always have.
I need you, Gordo. And I know that these words seem silly coming from the pen of an 8th (almost 9th) grader, but you need to know. So that we go on to high school, we are either LizzieandGordo, or Lizzie and Gordo.
The choice is up to you.
It always has been.
Your Friend, or Maybe More,
Lizzie."
He looked up when he was through.
"What is this?"
I forced a smile. "It's what I was going to write in your yearbook. You know, I never got the chance because you left, but it was what I was going to write."
His face was as red as the apple I had ate that morning. "Lizzie, I don' know what to say."
Not the response I was looking for, but I'd take what I could get.
"You don't have to say anything. I know you never felt the same way. But, the way things are going, I can't image that I'll ever see you again, and I wanted to… You know… Make sure it was clear."
I studied my feet silently, just enjoying the feeling of knowing that I was standing there with my best friend. And the guy that I loved.
"I should let you go," I said finally, unable to take the quiet for even an instant more. "It's looks like it's clearing up outside."
He followed my gaze to the window and I could see the agreement cross his face.
"Right then."
"Wouldn't want you to miss your flight," I continued.
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"How was I supposed to? By the time I realized, you were about to leave."
"I would have understood."
"Like the last thing I wanted to hear you say was, 'I'm sorry, Lizzie,'" I snapped sarcastically.
I had a point and he knew it. His bright blue eyes were clouded over with confusion, and… something else. Something that looked suspiciously like regret.
"I should go," he said, but made no motion to move. We were, after all, sitting at *my* gate.
"I hope you enjoy L.A.," I lied.
"Where did you say you were going?"
"I didn't. But to visit Miranda."
He paled slightly at her name.
"Miranda? It's been a long time since I've seen her."
"Forget?"
"Of course not."
And, I supposed, he probably hadn't. But he was learning to. And maybe that was what this whole thing was about. Well, I'd make it easy for him.
"It was good seeing you again." With that, I rose to my feet and turned away, moving closer to the information desk.
I thought he had gone, as I stood there, silently observing the planes outside. That is, until I felt his hand rest on my shoulder.
"Please leave me alone," I breathed.
"I can't," he returned. And I turned to meet his eyes.
"I'm so sorry I hurt you," he whispered.
I shrugged, determined not to cry, not to get too caught up in the feelings surging my heart. He didn't love me. He never had. This was just guilt.
"It doesn't matter."
"Then why are you crying?" He brushed a tear from my cheek, and didn't remove his hand when he was finished.
"Dust."
He laughed, and maybe I did too. It was hard to tell. But with his laughter came himself, the Gordo that I had been missing for so long. And with IT, came the gratitude. The overwhelming, overpowering gratitude.
"I loved you all along," he whispered, his face nearly inches from my own.
"I hoped-"
"I was too-"
"I should have-"
"If only-"
I held up my hand to stop us both.
"How about this," I suggested, smiling broadly and truly for the first time in years. "I love you too."
And he kissed me and it didn't matter that in 20 minutes I'd have to board a plane in one direction and he in another. And it didn't matter that when he moved back two mouths later my father spent a full hour lecturing me on the importance of being in by curfew. And it didn't matter that Miranda refused to speak to him for a month, as punishment for being ignored (but when she forgave him, I reached a total peak of happiness). None of it mattered. Because I had my soul back.
And I had never felt more joy.