The last to surface to mind were always his doubts. Memories of the times when 'I love you' hadn't been enough to overcome what they were facing. The guilt twisted his stomach and he fought to push it away. She had forgiven him, he needed to believe that....

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2002:
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He stayed in New York for the last 4 months of his junior year. Attending a private school outside of New York City and living with his aunt. The affair had hit his family like an unforeseen tornado. His life had been solid and stable in one instant, and torn apart in a million different pieces, scattered across a mile wide search area, the next. Even if all the debris were to be found, it could never be glued back together in the same manner as before. The events changed him; he knew it. And Jake - smart, clever, perceptive, caring Jake - she knew it, too. His ability to trust diminished and with it went the power to love and the energy to keep friendships.

The thing he most regretted in his life, the one thing he would never let himself forget - was that he gave up. On her, on them, on living, he gave up on them all. He remembered that it had all seemed so pointless. Their love would eventually end in heartbreak, so why bother loving more now only to hurt more later? When did a teenage romance become the real thing? Could it ever...or would their innocence and immaturity hinder the development of their love into a capable, adult relationship? The questions plagued him, day and night...screaming painfully whenever she was near. It hurt to look at her and it was easy hate her for living such a seemingly easy life. Some part of him was convinced that he held more pain in his heart than she could ever know.

So when her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in April of her junior year and the tabloids only covered Monica Pratt's impending demise, Jake needed him more than anything - and he abandoned her. She was crying. She had never cried, not even in front of him. The thought of losing her sole parent, a woman who barely knew her, yet called her a daughter, left Jake unguarded and exposed. Her emotions were open to view and it reminded Hamilton too much of himself. He fled. Running to free himself from this doomed relationship, from her vulnerability which hit a little too close to home, and from the leap of trust that he wasn't willing to take. It felt right in that moment, to forget anyone else existed and concentrate only on himself. He believed he deserved that option. They had been 'us' for so long that he was beginning to forget who 'Hamilton' was. And if there was one thing he hated, it was not being sure of himself.
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Sept. 5
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And he had almost forgotten about her, as much as six months apart and extreme denial could allow. He regarded himself as successful. Beating what he considered an unhealthy addiction to the instability of love. That was until he saw the sub-headline of National Enquirer as he stood in line at the grocery store: Monica Pratt and daughter battle illness together. He grabbed the copy and thumbed through it until he found the correct page headed 'Like mother, like daughter.' A gruff, impatient cough behind him signaled the line was moving. Stepping forward, his eyes never left the page:

'After learning about her mother's illness, Jacqueline Pratt decided to help, in her own unique way.' He couldn't help but smile. When she did anything, it was always in her own unique way. 'The chemotherapy and radiation treatments Monica endured eventually lead to extreme hair loss.'

He turned the page to continue the article and was surprised to find a picture of Jake and Monica staring back at him. Jake's short hair, shorter than it had ever been at Rawley, was evident as she leaned over her mother's hospital bed with a weak smile on her face. She had chopped off all her hair. The long, wavy lengths she had been so glad to have back, were gone to ease her mother's struggling. A bold, boxed quote caught his attention: 'I've had enough love in my life to know when something doesn't go your way, you have to fight for it.' He looked back at the picture, noticing the sense of loss and pain in her eyes. It was then that his stomach fell from his body and his heart rate quickened to an unhealthy pace. You have to fight for it. You have to fight for it. Her words echoed in his mind and he could picture her saying them. Her eyes squinted in a determined face, her arms crossed over her chest in a sign of defiance and confidence. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have turned away from her? The countless times she was there for him, knowing when to listen, when to argue, and when to lighten the mood. The one time he could have helped her, he was too self-involved to notice how much it took to expose her emotions to someone. He decided then and there that he would fight to rediscover what he had selfishly given up - their love.
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Oct. 14
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It had taken many unanswered phone calls, many returned letters before he had finally gotten through to her. And then, it was completely by accident. It was fall of his senior year and he was back in New York for the week, checking out colleges. New York City in the spring had done it to him. He loved the nightlife, the art, the way he could walk out onto the street and see all the people and know that his problems didn't matter to the world. It forced him to forget. He was determined to find a college in the city that rushed with madness, making New Rawley seem insignificant. He walked down the street, studying the shops he had been in so many times and smiling at the excited tourists. He had been like them not so long ago. It was lunchtime when he ran across the Sbarro's where Jake and he had frequently eaten. Out of some sort of wistful reminiscence or comforting nostalgia, he went inside and sat at 'their' booth, not bothering to get food. He knew he looked strange, but at that instant, it didn't matter. He felt close to Jake as he stared at the cracked vinyl seats and laid his palms flat on the plastic tabletop. And for a fleeting moment, he thought that this might be as close as he would ever get to her again.

Before he had time to convince himself that would never be the case, he heard an incredulous scoff and looked up. She was there. Jake was there. He blinked to make sure that this wasn't a self-induced hallucination to keep alive his hope of one day seeing her again. But he knew it wasn't. If his brain were to conjure up an image of her, it wouldn't have been this one. She stood ten feet from the table, holding a tray of food in her hands. Her face was twisted in anger and the look in her eyes - he couldn't describe it. Loathing, hurt, hopelessness and pain - it was all that and more.

Turning away from him, she muttered, "I can't believe this." She dumped her fresh, untouched slice of pizza and drink into the trash and stomped toward the door.

He sat, dazed, in the booth, wondering if any of that really happened. She looked great, in the instant before hatred had taken over her face. Her hair was a few inches longer than it was in the tabloid picture and stood up in a messy, but cute, sort of way. The pale blue sleeveless shirt showed off her summer tan and her jeans were low-cut, revealing her midriff. He launched himself out of the seat and through the door, barely registering the faint ding of an entry bell. Looking around quickly, he spotted her spiky hair, bobbing down the sidewalk amid a mass of people. New Yorkers are not polite, he noted to himself as he pushed through the crowd and heard more than his fair share of offensive phrases.

"Jake! Wait!" He was only a couple of paces behind her, but she didn't stop. In fact, she picked up her pace until it rested somewhere between power-walking and a slow jog. "Jake," he grabbed her arm, out of breath. "Hold up a minute."

She yanked her arm out of his grasp and turned to face him. "What, Hamilton? You wanna apologize again for being such an ass? 'Cause I don't really give a fuck." Twisting away, she clomped off, her heels making angry clicking noises on the cement.

He jumped ahead of her, before she could veer around him, and held onto her shoulders. "Jacqueline. Stop." Closing his eyes, he said, "I'm sorry." He hoped when he opened them, her face would have softened. He was wrong, the apology had only served to infuriate her.

"So, I guess you want back in my life now. Well, guess what Hamilton? It doesn't work that way. You don't just disappear on someone and then expect to make it all okay with an 'I'm sorry.'"

"No...I-I know that. I realized that, after all this time apart, what we had...was really good." Looking into her eyes, he searched for some kind of recognition. "We were meant to be, Jake," he pleaded as he squeezed her shoulders gently.

"Don't you get it Hamilton? No, you wouldn't because you're too God damn selfish. I've been abandoned enough in my life, I didn't need you to add to the list."

"But...I love you. I've realized that now - I was too stupid before."

"That's great. Do you even know what that means? 'Cause if you did, you wouldn't have left me. You would have helped me when I needed it." Her voice softened and the edge had vanished from her eyes, "I can't trust you anymore."

"Just give me one more chance. I know I've had a million 'just one more chances'...but please, Jacqueline. Please."

"I can't." Shaking her head, she looked away from him. "I just can't."

He sighed. "Okay," nodding his understanding as he removed his hands from her shoulders. "Okay." That was it...that was where his hopes ended.

"Goodbye, Hamilton." She walked away. Everything he lived for, had just turned away, without ever knowing how much she meant.

"I'm glad your mother's better." He was numb to all the feelings that ran through him. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would stay that way forever.

She halted abruptly and slowly spun around. "How did you know about that?"

"I read about it. In National Enquirer." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the battered article and picture of Jake with her mother and handed it to her.

As she looked at it, she ran her hands through her spiky hair, tugging on the ends. "My hair," she said, smiling as she stared at the ground, remembering. "I cut it all off. It reminded me of Rawley. And you." Laughing, she rolled her eyes, "God, I looked so hideous."

Taking the photo back, he examined it, "Don't worry, peach fuzz was very in this year."

Smiling, she resumed her walking and turned to him when he followed next to her. "You hungry?"

"Yeah. There's this really great Italian restaurant around the corner-"

"Trionfo?"

"Yeah."

"My mom and I eat there all the time."

"So you wouldn't object to eating there now? With me?"

"No," she shook her head and led the way.

It wasn't an instantaneous thing. It had taken time to rebuild their friendship, to reestablish trust.
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He didn't know why he was blessed with an understanding and forgiving girlfriend - soulmate? What did he ever do to deserve that? He didn't know. All he knew was that he never wanted to let her go again. There was this dull ache inside of him that only grew in intensity when she wasn't near. They were simple words, so why was he so afraid? Rejection, that was the reason he remained mute. Ignoring what his heart had been telling him for the past thirty minutes.

"Will you marry me?"

Had he said the words? Aloud? They had been floating through his head for - he wasn't sure how long. They came with each thought of her. Was the voice he heard just in his head, urging him to ask, or had he really said them?

She leaned forward, biting her lower lip. It was dusk, the sun had fallen below the horizon and only cast a partial light on their boat. Soon it would be dark. He looked up to the slightly visible stars. Had it really only been four years since he gazed at the same stars from the nearby woods? It seemed like a lifetime ago. The only difference was that she was here with him now, not in a picture, but really here. That alone made it worth remembering. The moonlight reflected from the lake onto her. She looked so beautiful and feminine in her red tank top and rolled up jeans, it was a wonder he ever thought of her as a boy. It was a familiar scene, but he couldn't recall why for a few moments. Until he identified the memory as the first time he really said the words 'I love you'. It was here on the lake, a warm spring night during their sophomore year. She had taken off her sweatshirt in the cover of the darkness and was wearing a red undershirt. He had told her he loved her before, but he hadn't really meant it. Well, he had meant it, but more in a teenage boy-first love sort of way. He didn't understand the significance of the words or the emotion that consumed him until then....

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April 25, 2001
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For serious discussions they always used the boat at night. The lake was free of people to see or hear what they spoke about. They had been discussing their relationship. Weighing the benefits of 'us' to the drawbacks of being the 'gay couple' on campus. He had just received another threatening letter. They had been subjected to many threats and taunts, and were a little weary of the cost of their romance. But that night's argument was unlike previous arguments. She brought up the subject of leaving. Couldn't she see that would only make life worse? His world would collapse if she weren't there to help hold it up. It took this panic to make him finally confess what he truly felt.

"Jake, you can't go. You don't...ugh-" Running his hands through his hair, he started again, "I love you." Leaning on the edge of the speedboat, "You can't understand how much I love you. That's what's scary about it, because...because I don't either." The rippling black waves caught his attention and he paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and examining what he felt.

"It's not supposed to be like this, y'know? It-It's supposed to be...simple and easy. But with you, it's become so many things. So many emotions that are all mixed together in this confusing way. And I don't like it. I don't like the effect it has over me, the control, the addiction to this thing we have. I just..."

He threw his hand in the air, he didn't know.

"But then, there's this other side, where I do like it and I do want it to continue." Sighing, he slipped onto the boat floor, pressing his knees to his chest and picking at the dirt on his shoe. He didn't know what had brought him to this point, this confession, but he was here and he couldn't back down.

"I just want you to be as confused as I am," he stated each word carefully. "Because, if you're not, then...something's not right. These things that I feel, they aren't one-sided. This has to be love, because these emotions are so complex and confusing...but I don't wanna change them. For once, I'm perfectly happy not understanding something and not needing everything to fit into neat little categories of 'love' or 'friendship' or 'lust' or whatever, it's just- " He stopped, tilting his head back to rest against the built in, plastic chair. There was no moon that night, making the stars stand out against the black sky and shine with a radiant brilliance. "You make all the borders disappear and it just drives me nuts. I mean, one person should not be able to fill all those places. I didn't think it was possible - I never even considered that- "

The breeze picked up, ruffling his hair like her gentle touch. He thought he saw the stars twinkle and wink at him, yet knew it was just his imagination. The realization hit him at the same time. It felt like a weight was lifted from his body. Closing his eyes as the warm night wind encompassed him, he smiled, wishing he could stay like this forever. "But you do...and...." the confusion cleared from his face as he opened his eyes and stared at her, "I love you." She looked at him then, much the same way she was now. Her eyes glassy with tears, but smiling vibrantly.
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Her chin quivered and she placed a shaky hand over her mouth, laughing at her emotion. The rowboat rocked as she pitched forward and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him tenderly. Before she said anything, he knew and released the breath which he had been holding for four years - ever since Finn and his mom. In rehearsing this moment, he had given her lines and a voice that in no way compared to the emotion that she displayed now. Pure joy, love, and excitement. Her body shook from the combination of soft laughter and controlled crying as she whispered the words he had been waiting to hear. The words he had been waiting the past six years to hear, maybe the words he was born to hear her say:

"Yes. I'll marry you."

[The End]