Holding On & Letting Go [✓] (Boyxboy)

Chapter Eight

    Another pile of dirty clothes was tossed onto the floor as I picked up my duvet and changed the sheets on my bed.

    Due to working so much recently, housekeeping had slipped away from me and now I was paying for it under a layer of dirty laundry and dust.

    Having woken up early this morning with nothing to do, I decided to get it over and done with. The problem was, I didn't take into account just how long it had been since I cleaned my room.

    I sneezed as another layer of dust blew into my face as I picked up a book. Tossing it to the side, I groaned internally.

    Not that I would ever tell him, but right at that moment I envied Jack. He always kept his room neat and clean and would laugh and mock me whenever he found me in this situation; stuck in a mess.

    However, living with Jack's clean antics could be like living with my mother at times. He always pressured me to do the same and would laugh when I wouldn't listen and ended up in a mess later. It was days like this that I hated having a smarter, wiser best friend.

    "Troye, I'm going to get groceries now. Do you need anything?"

    I stick my head up out of my hamper to answer Jack, cringing at the smell. There was definitely something dead in there. "No, I'm good."

    "Okay. I'll be back before-what are you doing?"

    I look up to find none other than my smug best friend in the doorway, watching me with amused eyes.

    I point a finger at him. "Do not say a word."

    He holds his hands up in defence. "Alright, I won't."

    "Good." I shove another sock in the already-full hamper. "Just go buy groceries and forget what you saw."

    "Okay, I will." Jack walks away before looking back over his shoulder with a smirk, calling out "But expect a call from NASA about discovering a new unidentified species in your hamper!"

    "You jerk!" I laugh, throwing the book after him but instead it hits the shelf in my wardrobe and knocks a box down.

    I stop laughing and stare at the box. Getting up slowly, I wait for the front door to close before going over and carefully picking up the fallen object.

    Turning it over in my hands, my breath catches in my throat. The last time I'd seen this had been two years ago when I put it up there and out of sight.

    It was covered in a layer of dust but I would recognise the faded gold box anywhere. It was a memento, one that hadn't been touched in years.

    Carefully, as if to not break it, I lift the lid and for the first time in nearly three years, peer inside the small box.

    Filled halfway to the top, a stack of papers, notes, photos and other assortments sat inside. Each one from Cameron.

    I gently unpack the box, my mind in a nauseas fog. Lifting each item out, I stare at them in turn as flashbacks begin to play for each one.

    Cam was a hopeless romantic and being somewhat of a sap, he knew how much I loved receiving his little love letters or things he would lying around to brighten up my day.

    I unfold a piece of paper, my eyes skimming the words as I delicately brush the edges. You look beautiful today.

    There were plenty of them. Cam often left the notes in the pockets of my clothes so I would find them when I wore them.

    There was anniversary, Valentine's Day and birthday cards. There was a good luck note he had written me on my first day at the company. There were two tickets from when we had attended my cousins' band's concert together. There was a strip of pictures we'd taken in a photo booth on our first date. There was a movie ticket from the day we officially became a couple.