#longing hours

Once you deemed it a reasonable time to be out of bed, you got up and headed to the kitchen in search of something to eat. Something to truly help get the day started.

The food you served yourself wasn't even properly enjoyed, far too focused on what you'd wear once you headed back up to your room. How you'd dress yourself in preparation for seeing him again after what felt like an eternity.

After breakfast and a quick look through your closet, you found yourself patting and dusting yourself off to ensure you looked presentable, pleasant to the eye. One look in the mirror and you deemed yourself ready to head out and towards where you and Alex usually met.

On your way to the front door, a loud voice demanded your attention, asking where you were off to in such a hurry. You excused yourself, telling them you were on your way to meet a friend. And yes, you'd eaten breakfast already. After a quick nod of approval, you were on your way out of the house.

-

You didn't think you'd ever speed walked somewhere as fast as you'd done just now. Urgency in each of your steps, eagerness pouring out of you with each exhale.

But the tree was empty. He was nowhere in sight. Perhaps you'd gotten here too fast, eagerness leading to you being too early. That made sense.

Taking a seat on the grass, you waited patiently to see if he'd show up. Of course he would. Meeting up at this tree had become your thing. If he ever needed to find you, he'd find you here. Vice versa.

It didn't take long before he appeared before you, in all his glory. Your eyes scanned him shamelessly. You'd missed the sight of him. And it had only been three days.

Clean slacks, suspenders resting nicely on top of his white button-up shirt. The three buttons left undone at the top allowed his collarbones to be on display, even if just a little. It also exposed his honey-like skin to the world. And his shoes, slightly dirty from the dirt path he'd taken to get to where you two found yourselves now.

Truly a sight to behold. You stood to your feet, smile growing instantly. He smiled back before you found yourself engulfed by his arms, head tucked neatly under his chin.

"How was the visit?" You finally asked after minutes of staying in the embrace. He began to tell you, later slipping into different conversation.

"I missed you." He mumbled into your hair, to which you responded by nuzzling your face into his chest.

He was leaning against the tree with you placed between his legs, back resting on his chest. His fingers moved slowly against your hair, and you worried sleep would finally catch up with you after staying up all night.

"How'd you manage to come out here?" He asked, sending a smile your way and breaking you out of the relaxing trance his fingers had left you in.

You couldn't help but smile back before shrugging slightly. "Just told them I had to meet with a friend."

"Lying to your parents, hm?" He raised an eyebrow, making a small 'tch' sound and shaking his head. "What if they find out?"

Your body visibly stiffened at that. "They won't, unless you tell them." You carefully positioned yourself so you were sitting facing him now. Perhaps your tone came out more serious than you'd intended, considering the conflicted look that now rested on his face.

"Why can't we just tell them we're together?" His tone was telling of how he felt. Exasperated, tired of hiding. You wanted to laugh at how insane the idea sounded, but his face told you it wouldn't be appropriate. He was serious.

"You know how they'll get." You stated softly, reaching for his hands and gently beginning to play with his fingers.

He bit the inside of his cheek, not moving his hand away, but clearly still upset.

You hated this as much as he did. Having to sneak around just to see him, lying to your parents about your whereabouts, it was all so tiresome. But it was necessary.

Your parents had freaked out at the idea of you two even being FRIENDS. You imagined they'd die of a heart attack or send you off if they ever found out.

Once you two had clearly understood that your parents weren't fond of it, he offered to meet at his place instead.

Turns out his parents weren't very fond of you either, and you never went back. It simply wasn't working out, but neither of you were willing to put an end to the relationship.

And that's how you ended up here. Lying to parents, meeting up at a tree, hands entangled and gentle whispers of the near future where you'd be able to be together, without any worries.

Even if seeing his pouty face broke your heart, you knew you couldn't tell your parents, or vice versa. It wouldn't end your problems, but rather create more. He didn't seem to understand that though, and it led to these conversations every single time.

"Soon." You stated firmly, hands moving to cup his face and leave a small kiss on his cheek. "I promise."

-

Although the reality that your relationship was forbidden hung over your heads daily, you both still tried to enjoy your time together as best as you could. And yes, that meant dates.

He'd come up with the idea of painting together, and you couldn't really refuse after seeing how proud of himself he was. He'd suggested you two meet by the tree with paint supplies and some extra cash for an ice cream cone or a snack after. It seemed perfect.

When the day came, you found yourself seated by him with your fresh canvas and the small containers of paint located beside you two, small brushes ready to do as your hand commanded.

The paintings had started off fairly well, him drawing what seemed like a street in town with people passing by and a pretty sky on display.

"Is that where we got our ice cream?" You asked curiously as you stared at his painting. It felt oddly familiar and warm. It amazed you how well his art was able to portray and give off such emotions.

He smiled and nodded. "That street is really pretty, so colorful." He explained, setting his brush down momentarily. "Plus, I have a lot of good memories there."

You smiled back, "Me too. It looks so pretty, Alex." You reached over to gently squish his cheek, which only made him let out a laugh before he began to question you about your own art.

After some time, both paintings were set aside to dry and you two were left with one blank canvas and an abundance of red paint. It'd been the least used in both of your creations.

You both looked at each other, and you instantly recognized that mischievous look in his eyes. "What‐?" You asked, to which he only smirked before pointing at the canvas.

"Well, we wouldn't want the canvas to go to waste.. right?" He received no response beside your wary stare. "How about we paint our hands red and put them on there? Wouldn't that be cute? We could add our little signatures on it as well."

The idea was extremely incriminating. Red paint. A canvas that had BOTH of your names on it? It was never a good idea. But he had his ways of getting others to say yes.

"If you're worried about getting caught, we can wash our hands really good to get it off. And one of us can hide the canvas in our rooms." He was so convincing, and he looked so so cute.

"Fine. But we can't wait around too long or else the paint will dry! So let's hurry." You finally responded, to which he let out a celebratory yell before coming closer and grabbing the red paint and pouring it onto his hand carefully. You did the same, and soon both of your hands were plastered onto the canvas.

It was cute, just like he'd said, and it was even cuter once he'd lazily written his name and yours under the handprints. You couldn't help but stare as he focused on adding a small little heart between the two handprints, his tongue sticking out in concentration.

Once he was done, he sat up properly and shot you a smile, to which you responded by impulsively pulling him in close for a kiss. He responded almost immediately, arms carefully wrapping around your waist as to not leave paint on your clothes. You'd done the same once you gently wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

Every single date you two went on only solidified your feelings for him, and made them so much stronger. He was lovely, full of ideas, and so kind. He was perfect, but your parents would never see that. You pulled away from the kiss, only for him to pull you back in after letting you both breathe. No complaints from your part.

But definitely from your parents. You both heard a loud gasp, which had you pulling away from him within seconds. To your demise, your parents were both stood a few feet away with shock and disappointment plastered on their faces.

You both stumbled onto your feet, the words failing to leave your mouth as you tried to explain what they'd just witnessed. You felt lightheaded. How was any of this real?

"You know, the neighbor told me you'd been snooping around with a nobody, but I never took them seriously. I trusted you knew better." They spat angrily.

It suddenly made sense. The stares from the neighbor everytime you left the house and sneakily made your way to the tree. Or when he'd 'carefully' come drop you off at your house after being out all day, hidden by the night sky. Or so you two thought.

You felt numb, unable to create any sort of excuse as to why you were with him. Saying you two were friends wouldn't work, considering they'd walked in on you two kissing. And the canvas that lay between you two with handprints, signatures and hearts. There was no fixing this.

"We were going to tell you, but we knew you wouldn't approve." You finally mustered up, voice trembling in fear of the consequences. Alex was frozen in shock as well beside you.

"You've completely lost my trust." One of them said, shaking their head before looking directly at you, as if giving him a single glance would kill them. "I don't want you near this young man again, do you hear me?"

He looked hurt, but most of all he looked angry. Angry that they wouldn't just let you two be. Who were you hurting by being together?

"Not as long as they live under my roof. Now let's go." They stated just as firmly, a strong grip on your wrist and pulling you towards home, daring him and you to deceive either of them. You two were fighting a losing battle.

"They have every right to make their own decisions." He tried to state firmly, but the slight tremble in his voice was too noticeable.

"Wait. At least let me say goodbye." You pleaded, knowing they wouldn't hesitate to send you away as soon as you got home.

They let go of your wrist and you made your way over to him. You couldn't help it as the tears began to well up in your eyes. This was exactly what you feared, and it had come true.

"I guess we got caught.. red-handed." He stated after a moment of silence. His comment took you by surprise, and you couldn't help but laugh at his ability to crack a joke no matter the situation.

The tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes became more noticeable the closer you got, frown etched onto his beautiful face. Unacceptable, really.

Your eyes fell down to both of your hands that had red splotches all over them, along with the accidental red drops all over some of your clothing. "I guess we did." You finally responded. Red hand reaching for his. "I love you so much, okay? This isn't the last you're seeing of me."

"I wouldn't allow that anyway. I'm not giving up on you." He whispered back, knowing there was curious ears nearby. It was a promise neither of you would break.

Even if you were getting pulled away after too long of a goodbye. Even if the canvases were left forgotten on the grass to dry. Even if it was prohibited.

No matter what.

-

It had gone just as you thought. You were prohibited of meeting with him, and stripped from multiple other privileges. It made no sense why they cared so much, but they did.

A promise was a promise though, and you'd managed to sneak out a few times to see him during the first few months. Each second of the meeting was bittersweet, a reminder that the moment would end sooner than later constantly there. On edge of who was nearby or if anyone had spotted you two. Horrible.

After a few of those, they'd gotten stricter, and it was harder to leave the house. It led to you resorting to writing letters. It was the only other form of communication. The house phone was an absolute no, far too risky. So you often found yourself in your room, writing letters to him about missing him and how it didn't feel the same without him around.

Everytime the mail came, you were the first to receive it. Looking for any letters from him. Taking it before any curious eyes could notice your eagerness to check the mail.

Your days were spent in bed, reading and re-reading the letters he had sent. Waiting for the next to come in the mail. It made you yearn for his company, his touch, him. The days passed with only letters from him and your own memory to remind you what he was like.

It was painful being away from him, and you couldn't really remember exactly how long it'd been since you last saw him, but one thing kept you sane. Kept you from losing faith of seeing him again. It was the promise you two had made the night your parents found out.

He wasn't going to give up on you, and you surely wouldn't give up on him either. Even if it'd been months since you last saw him. Many repetitive months of writing letters, busting missions just to get to them before your parents did, and spending your time daydreaming about him.

It would all work out in the end. It had to. You'd both make it work.

No matter what.

-

You really didn't know how long it'd been at this point, since you'd last seen him. But you knew exactly when the letters stopped coming.

It'd been exactly 6 weeks and 4 days since the last letter of his came in the mail. You'd sent one back not too long after, but he hadn't returned one to this day. Usually his letters came 3 days later, the latest.

You couldn't help it whenever your mind wandered to the possibilities of why the letters stopped coming. Every sick idea that entered your mind seemed possible. It'd been far too long since you'd last seen him.

You had no way of knowing if he was healthy and thriving, if he'd gotten sick recently, or if his parents had found out about the letters. Even worse, if he had moved on by now.

It made you sick to your stomach just thinking of it all. Had you done something to upset him? Maybe you were bitching too much in your letters and he'd grown tired of you. Maybe the tone of your words were far too longing for him.

You had no way of knowing. No way of confirming your thoughts.

No matter how many weeks passed, you desperately clung onto the hope that a letter would come. Surely, eventually, and it would explain his absence. It would come if you believed hard enough.

But 6 weeks became 10, and then it became 15. 15 weeks without him, without any response. No knowledge of his whereabouts or well-being.

"What about the promise we made each other?" Is something you'd asked yourself frequently over the last 15 weeks, but no answer. At least not one you wanted to hear or even acknowledge.

You sat at your desk now, fresh sheet of paper ready next to your pen. You couldn't keep living like this. In suspense and longing.

The guilt was eating at you as you wrote 'Dear Alex,' onto the page, but the reminder that he was the one that hadn't written back helped ease the growing pain in your chest.

He hadn't kept his promise. He'd broken it after 15 weeks of not responding. You'd waited around for so long, but who knows if he'd moved on and left you behind, or whatever else could've happened.

Your hand froze, gently biting at the inside of your cheek, too scared to truly put an end to this. But it was necessary. It's what you needed in order to be able to breathe properly again, to sleep well at night, to stop the ache in your chest.

The times you'd been out in town with your parents, there was no sight of him. You'd visited the tree a few times since the last letter came in, and nothing.

You had to let him go, just as he had let you go.

'I don't know what happened to cause you to stop writing to me, but I've had enough time to speculate and overthink the answer to that.'

You paused. If this would be the last letter you wrote to him, you didn't want it to sound so bitter. You still loved him, and he was your first love. You could never truly hate him. But you had to let go. How to convey that in a single letter?

'I can only hope that you're holding up alright. I've missed you dearly since the last letter you wrote to me, and I hope you know that I truly do love you. Far too much for my heart to handle.'

'Which is why this is the last letter I'll be sending you. For my wellbeing, for my mental health. I can't sit here and worry for you every single day. I tried waiting around for you, but it seems you've given up on me before I could even think of giving up on you.'

'I will keep the memories we made in my heart and mind always, and I hope your memory of me is fond, and that you loved me as much as I loved you.'

'Thank you so much for making these the most wonderful years of my life. I'll forever remember you fondly. I wish you the best in life and in health.'

You paused. Was this enough? You didn't want to overwhelm him, if he even did end up reading your letter. One last look through the letter and you let out a small sigh. This was it. You just had to sign it, package it nicely into its envelope, and send it off to him.

In hopes that he'd receive it, read it, and that it would bring peace to your heart. Even if it meant not knowing of him anymore. You could only hope.

You wiped your eyes, a small smile on your face, a hushed "Thank you" escaping your lips as you finally signed near the end of the page,