Dear Phil,
You will never read this letter, seeing as I have chickened out from slipping it under your bedroom door. But I have to write this moment down, put it into words, or I will never be able to deal with these feelings.
All those years ago, you were the only thing that mattered.
And for a while, I tried to forget that, and shut you out.
I even lied to myself
It has always, and will always be you.
And this will always be one of my fondest memories- the day we chased each other around your parents house, and somehow ended up in that dusty storage room.
When I tripped on some long-forgotten knickknack, and you lunged forward to break my fall.
I'm going to assume you still remember this moment, as it is the memory I dream of every night.
Your hands were big and warm and held my hips as though they were made of gold.
Your breath hit the tender skin of my eyelids, light as a feather, and that dark hair of yours was slightly too long, and fell over your forehead into my eyes.
And your eyes, oh god they were achingly vulnerable, with that deep blue, both a thunderstorm and a summer day at the same time.
I remember your body was barely pressed against mine, and your shirt brushed against the smooth skin of my forearms. Your cheeks were a baby pink, heating up with the significance of the positions we were in. Your pale arms were rigid, not letting me fall to the floor.
You had long dark eyelashes and slightly messed up eyebrows and the finest of hair on your upper lip. Your lips were a very beautiful shade of pinky-red, slightly chapped, but looked so different in that light.
It was like that dim lamp cast a new shade of the richest hues across your mouth, making you look more inviting, more alluring than ever before.
Those eyes of yours flickered down my face, and snapped back to stare straight into mine. I saw the muscles in your neck tense before moving your head nearer toward me, sending a tremor through my bones.
By this point, I was breathing in your scent, the cheap cologne, and the notes of something that could only be yours.
Then your nose brushed against mine, and I forgot that you were a boy, and that you were my friend, and that you were five years my senior. All that filled my head was you, was you scent, the way you felt, the slight movement of your chest as you inhaled, and exhaled.
And then your lips were on mine.
Nothing had ever felt this exhilarating, and I don't think anything could ever be as simultaneously stimulating and numbing as you, your toxicity filling my bloodstream, my brain, every fiber of my being.
Yet it was awkward and we stumbled over a box, but you held on to me, protecting me.
I remember mid-kiss, you smiling against my lips, and nothing could have made me feel any happier at that moment.
I remember you pulling away after a moment and sucking all of that good feeling back into your space.
So I pulled your waist back towards me, and ran my fingertips through the baby-soft hairs at the nape of your neck, drawing you in for another kiss.
Your hair was a little shaggy, but silky soft.
This time I smiled against your mouth and giggled, and expression of nervous joy.
You gave me the widest grin I've ever seen.
Six years ago was a simpler time.
Phil, you gave me the entire universe.
But I can't give you anything so incredible, for I am a tiny speck of stardust whole you are an entire burning sun, and I cannot give you anything that you don't already have.
I'm truly sorry we never worked out, that we never fit as well as two people could've, that we were just slightly the wrong shape to fit perfectly together.
I guess, what I'm trying to say is, thanks for the good memories Phil.
Love,
Dan