wrong one//g.d

t w e n t y - s i x

It wasn't until a lot later that you got around to opening the box. You grinned. "Gray!" You pulled out things from the box, setting them on the counter.

"Hm?" He sucked peanut butter off of a spoon and walked over. "What is it?"

"It's just a bunch of stuff from when we were little!" you laughed, pulling out a little shoebox. "Oh my god, Gray."

You opened the box up and smiled. He leaned over your shoulder. "Is that us?" he asked. You laughed, picking up a picture.

"From that zoo trip in like, third grade," you laughed. "Look at my hat, oh my gosh," you said with a smile, flipping through the stack.

Gray reached into the box and pulled out an envelope. "You kept these?" He asked, pulling out little pieces of paper. You looked up to see what he was holding.

"Oh!" You put your box down and took a slip of paper from him. "Oh my, Gray, look at this-- all your letters are backward."

"When was this?" he asked, reading through the notes.

"Probably when we got lockers?" You asked. "I started it; I was putting notes in your guys' lockers-- I kept all the ones you wrote back," you said with a smile.

"Damn," he muttered, reading the back of a flyer for some dance. "I really couldn't spell." You smiled.

"Still can't."

"Oh, shut up."

You looked through some more pictures together. Polaroids from when you'd gotten older, souvenirs from the places the three of you'd gone together. "Is that you or E?" You asked, picking up a picture.

He leaned over and stared at the picture. "That's me," he said with a smile. It was a maybe, six-year-old Grayson, hugging you.

"We should put this up somewhere," you whispered, putting it to the side. He smiled and you went back to the box, dumping the rest of its contents onto the table. You put the box on the ground and turned to see Gray pick something up.

"What's thi--" You grabbed it from him. "I wanna see it--"

"No, no, no," you laughed. You walked away with the notebook and flipped it open. "Oh my god."

"What is it?"

"Some stupid journal from--" you paused to flip to the front for the year. "Seventh grade? Eighth?" Gray shook his head and opened another box of pictures.

"You really kept a diary?" he asked. You rolled your eyes and he went back to the pictures. "Why did you print all of these out-- they're sticky on the back, ew."

"I had them on the walls, I'd, like, rotate them out-- it's probably tape residue," you told him with a smile. His eyebrows raised as he held another up of you and him. You pointed to the little pile you had forming. "I want to put them somewhere." He smiled to himself and you went back to your journal.

You kept flipping pages to find something interesting to read. But every single entry was about Ethan. You walked back into the kitchen and to the fridge, holding the book open with one hand, the other opening it. You sighed, flipping to the next page, a frown on your face.

You grabbed a box of strawberries and laid the notebook out on the counter as you opened it and read at the same time. "Wha-t-" You turned to see Grayson reading over your shoulder. You shut the book, face red. But he'd already read it.

"Gray!" you gasped. He let out a long sigh and shook his head, turning back. You swallowed and shook your head, turning back to your fruit. "Would you like some?" you asked him.