after school today, we bought sweets before we got on the bus. we sat next to each other, pulled up close because of how many bags you had, sucking on polo mints. we got to my house, we lay around on my bed on our phones. every so often you would look up at me and smile or show me something, and i guess i'd forgotten how much i loved you over the summer holidays, because i didn't see you that much. but the full weight of it, on the first week back at school, it hit me. and dear god, i love you, so much. sometimes when we're lying next to each other, your eyes shut and we're listening to some new song i've discovered or a calming youtube video you've found somewhere, you'll pull my arm around you and whisper quietly, 'hey, be him?' because you love him a lot, not me, him. you need the comfort, the stability. you need the pretence that he is there even though he isn't. it hurts, because i would wrap my arm around you anyway. i would do it anyway. i love you, so much. later, i change into my pyjamas, you don't even blink as i start taking my clothes off. you ask after i've finished if you can try on one of my dresses, because i have a rather extensive collection. i smile and laugh and you pull out my favourite one, a long, red dress that makes me feel like a princess. it's kind of see-through at the top, and quite old, but still elegant. you slip it on and ask me to zip you up, you twirl around and say, 'i feel like royalty.' you look like royalty, you do. and so we go downstairs for dinner, you've changed back into your uniform by now and we sit, and it's like my parents aren't even there, because we're having a conversation that no one but us could understand. you do that thing where someone asks you one thing and you'll tell them every minute detail, the story of the day of the answer to the question happened. and it means maybe i never get a word in edgeways but that's okay because i love the sound of your voice. i love you. later, when your dad has come to pick you up because it's late and dark outside, he's standing in my kitchen talking to my parents, we sit on my stairs and talk about boys because, please, remember, i like boys too. you ask me who i like, i look at you and go, 'you', you laugh and smile and you i can tell you don't believe me, which breaks my heart because because i don't like you, i love you, so much. eventually i admit the boy who smiles broadly when i laugh at his jokes and admits i'm alright is pretty cute, you grin, proclaim that you knew it. we have a great day. i love you. and now, whenever i eat polos i think of you and that dress you borrowed still smells like you.
