A note stuffed into a locker--

I love you too.

It's strange, finally saying that. I don't know if those words have ever come out of my mouth (or pen). With my family it's always one Joan crisis after a Kevin meltdown so it's too panicked to actually get the words out. They're just sort of there. The feelings of it are at least. You know you love your family, but they're such a part of who you are that you never stop to acknowledge your love of them. It just exists. Or does it? Sometimes by saying things or attempting to rationalize them you change the entire situation. It works like that on an atomic level at least, but I don't think it does with love. That wouldn't make sense. Love doesn't make sense. Even if you know the science behind love, it can't keep you from feeling it and being consumed by it and becoming so distracted by it that you can't even be in the same room as the object of said affection without all motor and neurological functions ceasing to operate.

You're going to make fun of me for this letter. You're going to say something about the pathetic mushiness (that's not a word, is it? You've got me saying words that don't exist) of its content. And I don't care. It's sincere mushiness at least, and that's what counts.

A note flicked at the back of a head during Phsyics--

Sincere mushiness? No. NoNoNo. There will be no mushiness, sincerity notwithstanding. It's embarrassing. Not for me, for you. I don't do embarrassed. Well, I might make an exception if you start saying crap like that. How do you come up with that stuff without your brain turning to....I don't know…cotton candy? Crystallized sticky disgusting sweetness. It makes me want to retch. Try and think up something romantic to say about that, why don't you? Oh, and by the way—Thanks for bringing up your perfect family. That's a pleasant conversational topic. Let's bring up the one thing I don't have and dangle it in front of my face. You're down to three minutes…you'd better watch it.

A chat later that night--

GravityBoy: I didn't mean to make you feel bad, it was just an example of requited love in one of its multiple forms. Don't you think you can trust me about that? You're so paranoid sometimes.

BlackWidow4U: That's it. Two minutes.

GravityBoy: I meant paranoid in that adorable, endearing way.

BlackWidow4U: Don't think you're getting your minutes back that easy.

GravityBoy: Worth a try. And you didn't answer my question.

BlackWidow4U: Oh, go build a model of a sub-atomic particle.

GravityBoy: Fine. I will.

BlackWidow4U: You know what would really surprise me?

BlackWidow4U: Other than your sister acting normally and you not acting like such nerd

GravityBoy: I had no idea such paranormal phenomena existed.

BlackWidow4U: Coming home to find her sober.

GravityBoy: Oh…Grace,

BlackWidow4U: Dude, DON'T use my name. And let me finish.

BlackWidow4U: I've never actually known my mother. I've known a socialite and a drunkard, and sometimes a drunken socialite, but never the person who pushed me on swing sets and made me cookies and took cheesy home movies that embarrassed the hell out of me. I've never met that person. I don't think she exists.

BlackWidow4U: You don't know how lucky you are. Forgotten in your family is better than neglected in any family.

BlackWidow4U: And if you ever use the term 'sincere mushiness' again, there will be bloodshed.

BlackWidow4U has logged off.

GravityBoy: Sincere Mushiness.

Glad some of y'all liked the first part. What do you think about this one? Should I continue, or was it better off as a one-shot?