Little Annotations | Tristan Dugray

Little Annotations

"This is the key to my drawer. Keep it." // "You'll know when to open it, just not now."

Begging Weston to let near the house and into Genevieve's room was an entire task in itself. It's almost as if he purposefully filled his schedule for the sole reason of ignoring Tristan.

"Why do you need to go into my little sister's room?" Weston said, glancing at the emergency button that Tristan pushed. He'd gotten so desperate that he spent the entire day riding the elevator up and down, just waiting for Weston to step in.

"It's not like I haven't been there before—" Tristan immediately shut his mouth, blushing at how he made it out to be.

"Hm." Weston pushed him out of the way and pressed the button to start the elevator back up.

"No!" Tristan pushed the button and planted himself right in front of the number pad, "There's something I need there."

"What could you possibly need?"

"This!" Tristan held the key up, and Weston raised an eyebrow.

"How'd you get that?"

"You know what this is?"

"She's my little sister, obviously I know..." He scoffed.

"You don't know, do you?" Tristan tucked the key back in his pocket.

". . .No." Weston said, rubbing his temple, "She always kept it a secret. I remember her asking me to take her to buy a lock and key back in fourth grade, and I never knew what she did with it."

"But it's important." Tristan said, "I need to get into that room!"

"Can't you wait for her to come back?"

"When is she coming back?" Tristan asked.

Weston pursed his lips, "Don't tell Tristan where I am or when I'm coming back, or I'll key your car!"

"I have no idea."

Tristan sighed, "So let me go into her room!"

"Or what?"

"I'll ask her grandma." Tristan didn't want to play the grandma card, but he was left with no other choice.

"She won't let you in." Weston dismissed.

"Sure she will." Tristan said, "She likes me."

"This doesn't mean I like you." Weston slapped a key into Tristan's chest, "Swear to god if I find out you've trashed her room I'll string you up by your pubic hairs from a church tower."

He and Genevieve were definitely related.

. . .

Tristan went to Genevieve's house immediately after the elevator ride with Weston. He let himself in through the backyard and went up the stairs that led to her balcony. Genevieve's room looked as if it were frozen in time. As if she just got up and left one day— which she did, but that wasn't the point. The room was so familiar, but without her with him, he felt like a stranger.

The bedside table was easy enough to find. It had a single drawer and a silver lock. He brought out the key that Genevieve gave to him and unlocked it. It was fairly empty inside with the only contents being a well-loved book with a purple envelope on top. "To Tristan." it read, as did the inside of the book. Tristan's eyebrows raised as he weighed on whether he wanted to read the book or letter first. Back before school got out, Genevieve seemed more freaked out about the book, so that was his decision. He grabbed it, the letter, a notebook from her trunk, and headed over to her desk. With Genevieve, he knew that he should be ready to take notes. No matter how straightforward she seemed to be, there was always something in between the lines.

On the first page, he was instantly taken into the world that was Genevieve's mind. The pages were painted in different colors of ink with dates, words, and even pictures.

6th grade, English: I would be writing in my diary right now, but I don't have it, so I'm writing in this book. If this was any other boy, I would forget about it. I mean what fucking idiot would waste a perfectly good book? But you won't believe how exciting this news is! Tristan told me that I was his best friend today! It made me feel good :)

On the same page, her handwriting changed, the words were then in a light blue.

10th grade, History: Tristan, you almost left today and that scared me. You told me I was your best friend, but the truth is, you're my best friend too. You're everything to me.

An intense feeling of guilt swirled in his stomach, he didn't realize that it scared her that much. Granted, she was angry, but he didn't expect her to be scared. He flipped the page.

8th grade, Math: Tristan. This page reminded me of you.

9th grade, Chemistry: This still reminds me of you

10th grade, English: "I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice." I believe this is how you make me feel Tristan. You're a good person. Thank you for teaching me how to learn to love myself.

11th grade, "I think you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with you as ever." Is this the feeling? The l-word feels so foreign.

Every single page contained something. Pride and Prejudice was one story, but the story that was unraveling on the pages with Genevieve's handwriting was more interesting.

Summer before 11th grade, fucking France: A guy asked me out on a date today. I declined. Obviously. I wish it were you. Why hasn't it been you? I know we joke about it a lot, but I wish it weren't a joke. I wish I was yours.

Directly underneath it, smudged ink and messy handwriting: 11th grade, bedroom: Alina fucking stole this book and gave it to you Tristan. I think I almost threw up because of how much anxiety it gave me. She had no right to do that. I should be able to confess to you on my own terms. GODDAMN IT

So that was the full story of what happened between the two of them Tristan thought.

He went through the book once, twice, and then a third time. By the time he was finished compiling all of the notes by date in one of Genevieve's notebooks, it was sunrise. There in his hands, a timeline of Genevieve's feelings for him, and yet he still had a million questions swirling around his head. He ripped the letter open in hopes of answers.

Dear Tristan,

If you're reading this, my book must be with you. I'm too much of a coward to say it to your face, but I think I like you. Like, I like like you. In a way that I can't go a single day without speaking to you. It's scary. It's like one second you didn't exist, and the next— you did. These pages, all the notes, pictures, and annotations, they're dedicated to you. I've never felt this way before. I've never put so much of myself into a person, but you keep me safe. I've read dozens of love stories and read dozens of love letters written to me, but they're nothing compared to the moments when our hands intertwine and you hug me— even if it's in a platonic way to you.

Don't let me get away with confessing my feelings over a piece of paper Tristan.

Genevieve.

He absolutely planned on holding her to it. She wasn't going to run away anymore. She couldn't.

A/n: oooo you wanna follow me on tiktok so bad oooooooo @nvrlnd0writes aaaaa you wanna do it so bad.