T H E - T R U T H - I S

by ThatOneGoodWriter

It was simple. He wrote his feelings on one page. She wrote her feelings on the other. The only rule was that they were no allowed to see each other's entries. The rule was a promise they would both keep. That is...until the day she decides to leave and he is abandoned with only a tattered book he is tempted to finally read. Clace. Angst.

1. Chapter 1

"There is no greater sorrow

Than to recall a happy time

When miserable."

Dante Alighieri

Prologue

She was eighteen. I was twenty. She was aiming to be an artist. I was aiming to become a photographer. She was an optimist. I was mostly a pessimist. She liked drawing. I liked catching moments deep in time. She had rich auburn hair. I had long tawny locks. She had dark emerald eyes. I had vivid gold ones. She carried piles of books. I carried a black camera.

She liked cartoons. I preferred sports. She wasn't active. I liked playing soccer. She listened to sad old songs. I listened to rap. She was small in figure. I was tall and slender. She had no siblings. I had two. She had many friends. I did not have much. She was sappy. I was serious. She loved spaghetti. I loved Chinese take out. She showed her emotions. I was emotionless. She liked the color green. I liked blue. She liked the day. I enjoyed the night.

She loved cats. I didn't like animals. She had a rough past. I didn't. Her dad abused her. My dad was long gone. Her mother was caring. My mother didn't exist anymore. She was a ray of sunshine. I was a glimmer of the moon.

We were opposites. Utterly and perpetually. It was sometimes hard to decipher. How two completely different people remained together. I've always wondered. I probably always will.

One starry night, where cold howls of wind penetrated our bodies and crickets chirped at the arrival of darkness and their hour of appearance, she was clinging to her dark sweater, the one that I secretly liked to see her in. Her hair was let down neatly on the two sides of her shoulders. "I know you don't like that kind of stuff but Jace, it's really important to me." So I heard her out. It was a stupid idea. A ridiculous one. An idea beyond my train of thought. An idea that I agreed on. Because of her and our growing friendship.

"So how does it go?" I remembered asking, raising a questioning eyebrow.

She tilted her head to look at me. I leaned closer to listen because of our height difference. "Well, so we'll have a book." She nodded her head a little. "A reasonable size, y'know? I'll write my page of the day and I'll drop it into your mailbox. Then you'll write your side of the day. But you're not allowed to read my entries. I'm not allowed to read yours either."

I scowled lightly. "How's that any fun?"

She frowned, a light dimming from her face. "I just thought-"

"Fine. Okay. So like a diary or somethin'?"

She grinned at my terms. "Nah, like a scrapbook."

And so that was decided. On December 11 of 2016, she wrote her part of the day and I found the book tucked into my mailbox in the afternoon. I shook my head in amusement but scribbled my own view on the next page. Though it was tempting to scan her entry, I believed in our promise and felt that it was significant in trust. And so it went like that every day. A quick entry of feelings, emotions, and actions.

I kind of liked it. It gave me comfort. That was...until it ended.