There are the small notes we exchanged when we first met.
There are even a few strands of his pink-blond hair he left on my brush.
Obsession? Innocent, because he does not know about it, and I do not intend to confess it.
The only way I communicate any of this to him is through… songs.
I write lyrics and excuse it by saying I am writing for young people, for teenagers, about their typical romantic problems. But the truth is that my songs are about him, only about him.
I dream about you in the silent hours, when the world feels dark and far away.
I tell myself I am not the kind you would ever want, but my heart keeps reaching anyway.
I dream of some other path where our lives intertwine,
Maybe you would see me the way I see you.
But every time I reach for hope it slips right through the line,
And I am left wishing for a world that never comes true.
I feel so rotten, like I barely belong to the same sky you breathe under,
Yet I still picture what it would be like to be held by someone as perfect as you.
Sometimes when I sing and record music, Alex watches me with a thoughtful expression.
When we record, on occasion I forget myself and as I sing I look at him, and part of my mask crumbles, and my eyes fill with betraying moisture when I reach the verse about my dreams for us to be together.
Alex always looks away then with a bit of embarrassment, but I do not think he understands what I am hiding in those words. I see a shadow of confusion on his face, but he does not seem ready to unravel the mystery of why my songs sound so tormented… maybe he wants to believe they are just marketing, lyrics written only for the audience.
At the end of my freshman year there is a particular moment that forces me to say out loud what Alex and I are to each other.
One day, maybe a week before school ends, while we are sitting together in the cafeteria, Dereck drops into the seat by our table.
The place is packed, every table taken, so he chooses our spot. Dereck is probably the only person I can tolerate in our presence, but even then we only talk to him occasionally. Usually we just make fun of his videos in secret, the ones where he records himself playing bass, but he films them so horriblythat he gets flooded with hate comments. And it’s not even the playing, because he is actually decent on bass, it is the whole aesthetic of his videos that sucks and people joke he might as well be recording inside a pigsty.
Sometimes I talk to him about the band we both play in, or about choir. Dereck is also in choir but he keeps saying he needs to quit because he gets too nervous about solo parts.
At one point he lifts his gaze from his tray and says,
"You know, a lot of people in class are wondering if you two are just friends or… dating?"
A short silence falls over the table, and my eyes jump toward Alex, and then I see that deep, dark blush spreading across his cheeks.
I have to admit that my own throat tightens too. I don’t know what to say, because there are only two options and both of them feel awful: either I say no and risk hurting Alex in some way, especially if my tone sounds as if I really have to prove to Dereck how wrong he is and how absurd that assumption is… or I lie and say yes just to get rid of the question, which would create an even stranger situation, because how would I ever explain to Alex that I made a decision for both of us?
Time. I need time. Stalling!
"Why do you want to know?" I ask in a casual tone.
Alex stays silent, still bent over his tray.
Dereck shrugs and says,
"Sorry, but you spend all your time together, and you’re an alpha and an omega, so it’s natural people will talk." He says it lightly, kind of the way I did, but I know Alex is listening very, very carefully, despite the fact that he is still staring down at his tray.
So I decide to tease a little, maybe not the smartest idea, but before I can think it through properly the words slip out.
