Page 50 of The Story Of Us

Whenever Avery came to check on me, I would just huddle under my blanket to hide from her and everyone else. Eventually, I worked up enough strength to call my mum and ask her to pick me up early. I managed to pull myself together to pack away whatever I needed for summer and ended up leaving most of my stuff behind - including the birthday cards I’d gotten from Isaac. I took them down from my wall as soon as we broke up, the gap of space feeling like a chasm that I would never be able to fill again.

When I got back from his room yesterday, I took the cards out of the desk drawer I’d stuffed them into. I couldn’t help but notice that Isaac didn’t have them anywhere on his wall either, and I guess he must have taken them down after we broke up, too.

Being in his room felt like seeing a new side to him. I’d only seen glimpses of it before from when we called each other, a peek into his space but never the whole thing. He had new sketches on his wall that I’d never seen before, and I had to look away, that same devastating feeling hitting me again, just like when he’d shown me his sketchbook a few weeks ago.

There was a time when I thought we knew everything about each other, but sitting in his room made me realise that I’d only seen the parts of him that he wanted to show me. Staying in his room with him as he slept, though, I knew I liked the hidden parts too. I’m starting to hope he’ll show me them soon.

I open each card, starting from the first one he gave me for our twelfth birthday. There’s just a basic nondescript message inside - Happy Birthday Violet - in scraggly handwriting. As I read through all of them, it’s easy to see when he might have started to like me. He started adding little doodles of butterflies and stars, scattering them around the messages that gradually got longer and handwriting that got neater.

When I try to think about what made me realise I liked him, I can’t think of a specific moment. One day I just woke up, and he was the first thing I thought of, not what classes I had, not what homework was due, just him and the thought of seeing him.

Everything else fell to the wayside that day when I got ready, my focus completely on him as I clipped my favourite butterfly clips in my hair. He looked up from his desk at the exact moment I walked into class and gave me the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. That was it.

I trace my fingers over the messages and doodles, trying to imagine what he must have looked and felt like when he made them. Then I do something that I wouldn’t have even dreamed of doing a few weeks ago.

I pin them back on my wall.

When I texted Isaac this morning, he told me that he still had a bit of a headache but was mostly feeling better. He even joked that my taking care of him was the reason he suddenly felt cured, which brought a smile to my face. I decide to go and see him again, no other plans for my Sunday apart from doing the English Literature homework that’s due tomorrow. I know Isaac won’t have had time to work on it, so if I can help him out with it, then I will.

His face lights up when he opens the door and sees me. I have to tell myself to keep it together so that I don’t smile too eagerly at him. He steps back to let me into his room, and I sit at his desk again while he perches on the edge of his bed. He’s not wearing a hoodie today, just a plain white t-shirt, and I swear I catch a glimpse of silver on his neck, but I’ve never seen him wear jewellery before, so I must be imagining it.

His hoodie from yesterday is draped across the back of the chair I’m sitting in, so I keep myself as upright as possible to avoid leaning on it. Isaac leans over to move it away, placing it next to him on the bed instead.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you were coming today.”

“Oh, I probably should have told you.”

“No, it’s fine.” He pauses and turns his gaze downwards. “I like that you’re here again.”

I do, too.

Being in his room feels like we’re back in the bubble we created together before, except this one feels new and different. There’s an undercurrent of anticipation in it like we’re building up to something that neither of us wants to put a name to just yet.

I tamp that feeling down, not wanting to put too many expectations on whatever is happening between us. We’ve only just started being friends again, and I don’t want to risk trying to date him again.

Not just yet.

“Well, I came to make you do the English homework that’s due tomorrow, so don’t like me too much.”

I laugh, trying to make it into a joke, but he doesn’t. He’s just looking at me, eyes darting across my face, and my smile drops as I do the same to him.

“Impossible.” He whispers, eyes still fixed on mine.

Although we’re not saying a word out loud, there’s so much being said just by the way we look at each other.

Why are you here again?

I don’t know.

You don’t know, or you don’t want to say?

I look away from him, breaking eye contact and whatever connection we had to stare down at my hands instead. Isaac clears his throat.

“Thank you for checking on me. I really do appreciate it, Violet.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

I want to say something else, to say that I know he’d do the same for me, if not more.

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