Alright guys, here's the last part to this one. I'm so sorry it took so long. I just had no idea how I wanted to end this one. I was very conflicted on what to do. I know most of you wanted some grand gesture, and that's what Shawn suggested to Josh in the last one, but I just don't see Josh as the type to be reckless. Maya is reckless. If this story was in Maya's perspective it would've been published a lot quicker. Everything I wrote just didn't fit right, so I ended up deleting time and time again. Finally this came out of me, and though it could probably still be better. I am satisfied.
SO
All the reviews, I read them, I promise I do! They motivate me to write and I'm very grateful to everyone who leaves a review. And for everyone who even reads these drabbles. It means a lot to me to hear what you guys think, to know that there are people out there who read what I write. I love you guys!
These characters aren't mine, and neither are some of the lines. Enjoy! As always, review, fave, all that jazz!
I probably should've chased after her that night, but I didn't. I probably should've caused an uprising to grab her attention and stop her from getting married, but I didn't. I probably should've just marched right over and kissed her, but I didn't. I probably should've done something to prevent that night from continuing, but I didn't.
Maya Hart deserved to be happy and if there was one thing I wanted more than to be with that girl, it was for her to experience true happiness, for her to be happy. She does, after all, have the greatest capacity for love that I have ever seen.
I was Joshua Matthews-son, brother, uncle, and friend. I was Joshua Matthews- the guy who was undeniably, head over heels in love with Maya Penelope Hart, so much in love with her that I wouldn't dream of interfering with her happiness. So much in love that I'd place her happiness above my own. So much in love that I walked away that night.
I slowly ran my finger down the side of an envelope I found in a box at the very top of my closet, it was a letter. A letter in my handwriting. A shadow of a smile played against my lips as I flipped open the flap and pulled out the paper.
Someone once told me that writing is harder than talking.
I use to think they were full of it. How could writing be harder than talking when writing can be calculated, and talking-having actual conversations with actual people is spontaneous and unpredictable? You can't predict what people are going to say. You can't predict (doesn't stop us from trying) your responses to what the other person says. In all aspects talking is harder than writing, but as I sit here writing this letter I finally understand. When you write, really write, you are essentially stripping yourself naked. Bearing your mind and soul to whoever reads what you wrote. Writing is calculated, yes, but that just makes the writer all the more brave. They choose to allow the reader into their mind and soul- to allow the reader to see the world as they do.
So, here's my world.
I'm a lot younger than my brother's and my sister. I grew up closer in age to my niece than to my siblings. Either one of my brothers could have been my parents and I could have very well been the first third generation son, a brother to Riley, or perhaps even a cousin. Growing up was confusing.
"Go play with the kids."
I'd hear that phrase often and though they'd say it often there was always the undertone of what they meant.
"You're an uncle, Josh. Behave accordingly."
I've always felt misplaced.
It was that feeling of misplacement that shaped me. I did things in hopes to fit in with my family. Be cool-Shawn. Be smart, succeed-Cory. Be fun-Eric. Be fashionable-Morgan. Be mature- My parents. Misplacement, insecurities, and the need to fit in has made me who I am today, a day where I still feel misplaced. A feeling I know you know all too well.
"Forgotten memories, always. Forgotten feelings, never."
I was 17 when my world shifted. When I finally had a taste of belonging. I was at my first college party when I saw them. Riley and Maya. Humiliated wouldn't even begin to cover how I felt that night, that is until she spoke to me. Confusion swept over me as she bear my soul to me. An ache settled in my chest as she uttered the words, "I like you."
I knew then. It hadn't been a crush. She liked me for me, and it shook me to my core. I remember looking into her eyes and seeing the frustration, sincerity, and conviction.
"Dude, what is wrong with you?" I remember Andrew saying.
I remember thinking it's not what's wrong with me, it's what's wrong with this entire situation. I walked them home that night, in silence to say the least. I never told her this, but from that night on I watched her. I observed her. Who was Maya Hart really?
"Why is this bad for you?"
Because I like you. I knew the answer before she even asked me. I had found out who she was in her thoughts, her words, her actions and I found myself liking her. I became irate with myself- with the world. I couldn't like her. She was so much younger than me. I quickly began to hate the entire situation because of how much I liked her. Why did she have to be three years younger than me? Why did society insist on creating these social rules, these norms and regulations? Because the girl before me may be three years younger than me, but her mind is much more mature than any number.
"Why have you let me hold onto your hand this entire time?"
I never told her the real answer. That she was the one who finally made me feel like I belonged. That I was a part of something. That I existed for a reason. I let her hold onto my hand that night because I didn't even know she was holding it. Her hand just fit into mine, like it belonged there, like it would always belong there.
We promised each other someday. We said we'd play the long game. I made the mistake of thinking that the long game had a specific date. I made the mistake of forgetting that the long game was life. I made the mistake of confusing someday with the long game and for that I'll forever be haunted.
"And maybe someday you'll fall in love with a woman as wonderful as Topanga."
Cory had been right, I had.
Except where he has Topanga, I had Maya.
And where he stood on the other end of the aisle to watch his bride. I'll be standing in the crowd watching her become someone else's bride.
Tomorrow you'll no longer be Maya Hart, you'll bear a new name, so for the first and last time I want these words to be yours: Joshua Gabriel Matthews has always, and will always love Maya Penelope Hart.
"Josh? What are you doing? Is that?" She laughed as she walked over to me in nothing but one of my button down shirts.
"I didn't know I still had that." She whispered as she rubbed her hand along my back and laid her head against my shoulder.
"You have no idea how much grief that letter caused me." She giggled, shifting her head to lightly peck my shoulder.
"Grief? You should thank me. You, gorgeous, would have been divorced after a year of marriage to him." I winked at her playfully.
Her eyes narrowed in mischief.
"A year?" Her head rose off of my shoulder and her hand found her hip.
I nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, you're right six months, his last name was awful." I laughed as her face turned to disbelief.
"Now, listen here Boing-" I watched her lips move and registered none of what she was saying. Her arms were flailing, her eyes were narrowed, and her hair swayed back and forth in a loose ponytail. I couldn't stop the warmth that spread through me and the feeling of content from surging in my heart. My hands found her face and pulled her to my lips. It was slow, soft, and passionate. Her lips were a different type of euphoria for me-home.
Our foreheads rested against each others as we breathed in each other's air slowly trying to regain the breath we had both lost. I slowly placed my lips back on hers for a peck before pulling away.
"You did change your last name, in my defense."
Her laugh echoed off the walls before she nodded her head in agreement.
"Maya Matthews does have a better ring to it doesn't it?" My hand had found her left ring finger and brought it up to my lips. After kissing the ring I placed her hand against my cheek and looked deep into those beautiful, bright, blue eyes of hers.
"There's no better sound."