What I Could Never Say

Gabe,

I long for you.

Longing: a strong desire, especially for something unattainable.

As deeply as I feel for you.

As much as you are a requisite for my body.

I know I cannot have you.

I’ve never managed to put my true feelings for you into words—not out loud, not on paper, not to you, not even to myself. This letter is the first time.

Letter: a written or printed communication addressed to a person, company, etc., usually sent by post in an envelope.

Addressed to you. But makes its way to you, it shall never.

I don’t know exactly what it is I feel or when the feeling started. It definitely wasn’t a “fallen-at-first-sight” sort of thing; I guess when you’ve known someone since a really young age, that’s not really an option.

I do remember the first time I felt the attraction. Your eyes were sparkling—by the bonfire, like really sparkling. I’d always known you to be objectively attractive. You had a manly build, looked exactly like every other school’s football team captain. You always wore t-shirts way too tight, probably to show off your pecs. That night, your white t-shirt got soaked when the boys poured beer all over you, celebrating your last football win. I could see your abs seeping through, and it made me feel things I never thought I’d feel toward you.

With the help of a few too many drinks, I walked through the crowd and made my presence known. I stood there, close, sipping on my drink, swinging my hips—and somehow, it worked. You came up to me. This was probably the first time we’d spoken outside of forced classroom interactions. It didn’t take long for you to ask:

“Wanna come to my cabin… we can… watch a movie or something?”

You said it with such a cheeky smile. I remember thinking how white your teeth were; it made me insecure that mine shone yellow in comparison.

I knew you’d used that phrase probably hundreds of times before—you were such a classic jock.

Jock: a stereotype of an athletic and confident individual, often perceived as popular with the opposite sex.

And, by all means, popular with the opposite sex you were. I never would have imagined myself being one of your girls. But I’d never gotten any attention from a guy before and my friends had encouraged me to “let loose” and “have some fun” that night. I’d turned seventeen not long before and was the last in the friend group not to have “done it.” Tonight was the perfect chance, the last party before graduation.

Kelly dressed me up in one of her sexy black tops paired with the shortest pair of jeans I’d ever seen. They were so uncomfortable, infiltrating all the wrong places. Megan did my hair and makeup, soft curls and a red lip. Usually, you could find me in something oversized, hair and makeup undone. I looked like a different woman. I felt like one too.

And so I followed you, away from the bonfire, away from all the people. Your cabin wasn’t too far along the beach, but the walk felt dreadful. When Kelly said the party was in Jack’s backyard, I didn’t know that meant the beach! I was wearing completely the wrong footwear for the occasion. I hoped you weren’t noticing my awkward walk—more of a stumble, with sand seeping from all corners of my shoes.

Your cabin felt cozy. I’m guessing your mom was the one with the great taste in decor. I didn’t ask whether anyone else was there, I knew you wouldn’t have invited me over if they were.

“Wanna watch the movie on the couch, or wanna go to my bedroom?”

We both knew where this was heading. We headed to your bedroom and watched about five minutes of a movie I can’t even remember. The rest of the night was spent under the covers. That night was my first time for a lot of things. I think mostly, it was my first time feeling seen.

Feeling seen: a state in which part of our identity, emotions, needs, or physical presence gets fully recognized through various means.

I never told you that you were my first; I always wondered if you could tell.

Going to your cabin, my intentions were nothing more than what my friends had recommended.

“Go for a guy that you actually kinda dislike.”

“Why would I do that?”

Kelly rolled her eyes, as if the answer was obvious.

“You won’t get invested that way; you won’t fall for him.”

Then Megan added,

“The only thing that should matter about the guy is if his lips look kissable.”

Your lips might’ve been the most kissable I’d ever seen. 

The next day, after having left you only a couple of hours earlier, I found myself craving more of you. 

Still, back then, all these feelings were nothing more than physical. These cravings were so strong though, that they kept me from pursuing anything with anyone else. Only one other time have I even kissed a guy after you, and for the whole makeout session, all I could think about were your lips on my body.

It was only three years later, when you transferred to my university, that these feelings evolved into something even deeper. The last time I’d seen you was at high school graduation. I knew you’d be transferring, Kelly had mentioned it a couple of days prior.

“You think you’re gonna try to hook up with Gabe again? Would be good for ya!”

I didn’t talk to her about my constant cravings for you, but she knew you were my only.

The last thing I expected was for you to walk into my Chemistry lecture. How could your high school grades possibly have been good enough for you to be studying university-level chem? You still looked the same, just a bit stronger, wider—and you didn’t have that prideful smile you used to always carry around.

Your eyes scanned the auditorium for a place to sit. For a split second, they met mine. I gave you a quick nod and smile, it would’ve been rude not to, right? But I guess that made you feel like you had to sit next to me.

“Hey! Long time no see.”

The lecturer started speaking before I could respond. I spent the entire lecture thinking of what I might say to you at the end of class.

Should I ask about your injury? Give you my sympathies for having lost your sports scholarship at that fancy university of yours? No, you probably didn’t want to talk about that. I should keep it casual… maybe a classic, “How you been?”—though we both know the real answer to that.

Soon enough, the lecture ended, the lights turned back on, and I turned to face you. I landed on:

“So, how does it feel to be back home?”

“It’s good to see old familiar faces. And I really did miss the beach, the city’s not always as fun to live in as people think it is.”

You said it with a hint of sadness. I could tell you weren’t totally okay. You quickly checked your watch before I could respond.

“Sorry, I’ve got this thing with the counselor, they need to work out my credit transfers. See you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, see ya!”

See you around: a casual way to say goodbye without setting a specific time to meet again.

See you around: a subtle way of expressing a desire to run into someone again in the future.

I wonder which one you meant. Had you possibly also been thinking about my body every second of every day for the past three years? Had you figured out my schedule and taken this Chemistry class on purpose, just to see me again? Maybe the transfer wasn’t fully about your injury after all.

Either way, you did see me—twice a week in Chemistry lecture. You sat next to me every time.

You probably didn’t know this, but I failed Chemistry. In class, all I could ever think about was what small talk I would make with you when the lights turned back on.

All that small talk added up, you know. I found out a lot about you. I discovered you weren’t the jock I once thought I knew. You were a man now, a good one too. I saw you from a distance around campus, and the more I saw, the more I knew: I wanted you. For more than just your body. I wanted you—for you.

I talked to Kelly about wanting to hook up with you again. I didn’t want her to know about my true feelings just yet, so I made it sound casual.

“Definitely don’t make a move in chem class, wrong vibes.”

“Okay, where should I make a move then? Chem’s the only place I see him.”

“You could just DM him.”

“Doesn’t feel right.”

“Alright, how ’bout we go to the football game on Saturday? I heard he’s helping out with the team, he’ll definitely be there.”

On Saturday, I put on my cutest little summer dress. It was only May, so I was probably going to be cold, but I needed to look my best for you. I remembered that one time I overheard you and the boys chatting in high school.

“Oh, you know what really gets me? When they do those two things with their hair. What are they called?”

You motioned to both sides of your head.

“French braids, jock!”

Kelly shouted as we walked past.

 I didn’t know how to make French braids, so I asked Kelly to do my hair before the game.

“Can you make me two French braids, please?”

A look of confusion fell on her face.

“You never let me give you braids, you hate them.”

“I just wanna try something different tonight.”

No further questions were asked.

You were standing on the sidelines of the field, handing players their water, cheering them on. I planned to go up to you after the game. I had my line perfectly rehearsed.

“Think you might wanna head back to my dorm for a bit of fun later?”

You were obviously going to say yes; no guy ever declines such an offer. After we’d spent the night together, I would’ve asked you over and over until one day, between all the sex and seeing me more and more around campus, you’d fall for me.

I was making my way down the stands, on my way to you, when I saw her—running into your arms. You held on to her tightly, grabbing her waist. You leaned in closer and closer until your lips touched and intertwined.

I ran out of the stadium at the sight. If she had been just another one of your girls, I could still have succeeded. But it was clear that this was more than that, you never would've kissed one of your girls in front of a whole stadium.

I walked home that night. I took the beach route—three miles instead of just one. It was dark and cold, but I still took my shoes off and let my feet pace along the water. Tears flowed from my eyes, carrying the taste of salt to my mouth. My breath was short. I’d never had a panic attack before—this felt like one. With every wave, my toes grew colder, which somehow made the weight in my chest feel a bit lighter. I took some deep breaths and started fabricating a plan. I had to find a way to have you. My body couldn’t wait any longer. I wasn’t thinking straight. Which is why I did what I did when I got home.

It’s four months later today, and by the looks of it last weekend at the club, you’ve fully moved on. I knew it was finally my time. After all these years, I could finally have you—my body would feel whole again.

Today, I took a different approach; there was no need to be subtle at this point. I knew deep down we’d been having the same feelings all along.

I came to your cabin. I heard that you’d be here alone today.

You were surprised to see me, but it didn’t take much convincing for you to fuck me.

And fuck me, oh you did.

Afterwards, I said something I shouldn’t have. I don’t even know if I fully meant it, but either way, it might be the worst mistake I’ve ever made.

“I love you, Gabe.”

“What! Hey, I thought you just came here for a bit of fun.”

“Soon enough, you’ll realize that you love me too.”

That’s how the scenario started.

Scenario: a development of events.

After all the events unfolded, I collapsed into the silence of your living room and started writing to you. I have to admit, not all I wrote is true. But know this, for as long as I live, I will long for you.

I long for you.

I long for you.

I long for you.

But I cannot have you.

Because now, you are dead too.

Dead: no longer alive.