Stand By Me Imagines and Preferences

12:Gordie Imagine

Valentine's Day was always one of those holidays that seemed exciting when you're little, but as you get older, it's just another awkward, overrated day of the year. By the time you reached junior high, the only Valentines you ever got were from your mom because she was one of those over enthusiastic, into everything moms.

So obviously, you never expected anything else. Let alone a letter in your locker two days before the 14th. You opened it up and read it. It said:

Dearest flower,
Like one you are, beautiful and delicate. I am afraid that if I pick you, you may wilt from unhappiness. All I have to offer is my love, but I understand that a flower can not grow with love alone.
           A Hopeful Gardener

Your cheeks heated from the amazing words you had just read. You looked around your locker, hoping to find whoever had left the note, but no one seemed to stand out.

For the rest of the day, the note was all you could think about. You tried to think of anyone you could that would have written that note. You knew a couple boys that write for the school paper, but you couldn't figure out who exactly would like you so much.

The next day, you found another note in your locker. This one read:

Dear angel,
Have you figured me out yet? No, I suppose not. I will give you a hint, the first is 7 and the last is 12. I hope you understand, I fear to seek you in person, for your very presence is heavenly. I wish not to disrupt your angelic aura with my presence.
          An Unworthy Admirer

You stood there for a moment. How were numbers a hint to who he was? You thought edited an idea struck you. The numbers must signify a letter in the alphabet, the first number his first initial and the second for his last initial. Seven... You counted letters. G. Twelve... L.

G.L. Who could that be. You mentally ran a list of people you knew with those initials. A name was on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't figure it out.

In English class the next day, aka Valentine's Day, everyone had to present poems you all had written for an assignment.

"Lachance," the teacher called. He made you all present in alphabetical order. "Gordie, you're up."

You snapped your head up, your eyes wide. Gordie Lachance; G.L. You couldn't believe you hadn't thought of him. He was who you had had your first kiss with in 2nd grade on the playground. It was an awkward kiss, but it still counted.

There he stood, at the front of the classroom, paper in hand. He cleared his throat and began to read. "She doesn't know. /I spend my time trying, /But she still doesn't know. /I've distanced myself, admired from afar. /I've laid my feelings on a shelf /And let her hold them in her hands. /I think she knows. /I've given her hints. /I think now she knows /That I love her." He finished, but he kept his eyes on his shoes as he made his way to his seat.

Your heart fluttered. He had just said he loved you. When the bell rang to dismiss class, you caught up with Gordie, who had raced out of the classroom.

You grasped his arm. "Gordie, I know."

He spun around and smiled. "I thought you would figure it out."

It's like super late, but I write my best when I should be asleep apparently. I mean, I came up with those notes and the poem all on the spot. They're pretty crappy, but they could be worse, right?

Personally, Valentine's Day has become a pretty stupid holiday. It's really just a reason for people to spend money on pointless things that don't really mean anything. Yeah, I'm on dog those people who hate Valentine's Day, and not so much as because I don't really get anything as much as it really has no meaning to me. I can tell anyone I love them any day of the year, so why choose one day where it makes it 'special?' Anyway, I'm tired and need to go to bed. M'kay.

~Mariah