we're older now : homophobia sequel

t w e n t y n i n e

Stanley's POV

26 years ago.

'I'm not in love with him. I'm in love with the idea of him,' I repeat to myself over and over. I've done it for the past hour, but I had to get it in my head.

'I'm not in love with him,' but even I know that's a lie.

'I'm not in love with him,' is what I try to force myself to believe, yet the lock screen on my phone is still a picture of him smiling.

'I'm not in love with him,' is what I've repeated for hours now, hot tears rapidly falling down my cheeks.

'I'm not in love with him,' I repeat as if in prayer. As if I'm writing in a diary that nobody will ever read. As if I'm down on my hands and knees praying to the lord, asking him to forgive me of my sins.

'I'm not in love with him,' I carve into the walls. The walls that I've built around my heart. I write it on paper. Create it into a poem.

'I'm not in love with him,' is what I swear on my heart, knowing that it's the biggest lie I could ever tell.

'I'm not in love with him,' is what I might as well carve into my own skin to make myself believe.

'I'm not in love with him.'

Present.

"Will I what?" I try to hide my smile.

"You heard me."

"No."

"What?" Bill looked at me with a terrified look.

"But," I smirk. "You can be my boyfriend."

"That's the same thing?"

"Not technically," I smile. "You're becoming my boyfriend. Not the other way around."

"Smart ass."

"Dumb ass."

The two of us continued to eat their pizza and watch movies for a while, until it got dark and I got tired.

I stood up and walked into our room and slid under the sheets. I rolled up my sleeve to reveal my watch. 10:45.

I can't help but look at my arm.

And there I could clearly see the words I had carved into my arm so many years ago.

I'm not in love with him.

hello

it's currently 4 am.

actually almost 5

so yeah

and guys are you proud of me.

I KIND OF SPELL CHECKED IT