A/N: Hope this satisfies those who had a craving for fluff – I did my best to work with the format I'd chosen. Please review with your thoughts!
To: izzy_loves_john at hotmail. com
From: queen_of_the_castle at hotmail. com
Time Sent: Mon, May 14, 2010 at 8:42 pm
Subject: OMGsqueesplutterchoke23j2iy$yHG&(&
23j2iy$yHG&(& means 'brainmelt', by the way. And my brain is well and truly melted. In the best possible way. I got home two hours ago, dazed, and have spent the past hour and a half sitting and staring at the same spot on my wall and wondering how the heck I got so darn lucky.
Then for the past half hour I've been feeling like telling somebody, like yelling it out to the whole world, but I know I can't spring this on Dad without thinking it through and preparing him, and for reasons I'll go into later, I couldn't tell my best (female) friend. That leaves me with you, and I know you've always been a great listener, so thanks in advance for wading through this as I know you will.
So… let me begin at the beginning. You know how people say that if you want to know what a woman will be like in twenty years, look at her mother? I've found that anyone who wanted to see Emma in seven years should simply have looked at Isabella – totally in love, married out of high school, blissfully happy, the works.
Yikes, just read over that – not that I'm married, or that he's even asked, or that we've even talked about it (long way off on all three counts), but you know what I mean.
Who is 'he', you ask? Perhaps you'll be surprised – shocked, even; perhaps you'll be incredulous; or perhaps you'll have seen it coming all along (gah, I can't believe I didn't!). 'He' is Knight. You know, our Jerry Knight – John's brother, my platonic (or so I thought) friend of seventeen years.
Long story short (because it is very long and convoluted and twisted), he told me he loved me sort of cryptically, and I thought he was confessing his feelings for my aforementioned best female friend (who I knew liked him), and I was heartbroken and jealous and pissed off, and it showed in my reply – which made him think I didn't love him back, and made him heartbroken (and possibly those other things too).
Anyway, he came up to talk to me afterwards, and this is sort of how our conversation went.
Knight: (nervously running a hand through his hair, even though he sort of knew I loved him back by this point – due to an enlightening email exchange which took place immediately before this conversation) Um, hi.
Me: (caught between trying not to roll my eyes, and marvelling that after so many years of friendship – heck, after knowing my feelings, he could still get nervous around me) Hey.
Knight: (picking loose thread from sleeve) You, er, you got my last email?
Me: (quickly checking my computer screen in case he had sent a new one in the last three seconds) Um, yeah, I – I did.
Knight: (hands fidgeting with button on shirt) Oh. Good.
Me: (deciding to move this little discussion along) You said you wanted to talk to me in person?
Knight: (ears going pink) Oh, um, yes, that's right. Emma, I – I just wanted to say…
Me: (taking a step closer, trying to sound encouraging rather than interrogatory; I mean, come on, I had – subconsciously – waited for years for this moment, and of course I was going to savour the grand love confession before throwing myself at him and kissing him until his brain melted and leaked out of his ears. On second thought, ew, that was a rather gross metaphor. Simile? Metaphor? Whatever. Queen of English, me.) Yes?
Knight: (sighing in frustration, and biting his lip furiously – which didn't help on the 'refraining from kissing him until he's through with his speech' front, I can tell you) I can't make speeches, Emma. God, this is so stupid – if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more, but you know what I'm like. You know I've spent a worrying amount of time telling you stuff you don't want to hear, you know I bore you and lecture you and yell at you when you do dumb things, but you still put up with me, like nobody else would. Just put up with me for a bit longer, Emma, while I try and blunder through this. I know I've never made an effort, never told you, never given you the slightest hint about all this, but I swear, I'll remedy that now if you'll just give me a chance. (looking at me hopefully, and yet still sort of bracing himself for a rejection) So, um, d'you think you could? Give me a chance, that is?
Me: (eyes narrowing and stepping forward until we're practically nose-to-nose – well, my nose to his clavicle, anyway) Did you even read my emails, Jerry?
Knight: (swallowing) Well – yes, but I read them quite quickly, so I might have misunderstood–
Me: (giving up on him getting a clue, sighing in frustration and grinning my head off all at the same time) Yes, of course I'll give you a chance, you stupid prat! (Wow, maybe I do read too much Harry Potter) I love you too!
Knight: (finally taking some initiative and lowering his head and kissing me senseless)
You know, Izzy, I don't know why they call it kissing someone 'senseless', because frankly, all I could think about was what my senses were relaying to me: how his lips felt on mine (warm, soft, slightly chapped), how it felt to run my fingers through his hair (lovely – not that I've never done it before, but you know, ruffling it playfully and this were worlds apart), how good he smelt (soap, rosin, and something else uniquely Jerry), how his hand felt on my cheek (warm, callused, gentle), how right it all felt.
A little weird, yes, considering that this was Knight, and that two weeks ago I didn't even know I was in love with him, but totally awesome at the same time.
After that, we just hung around in the Highbury Chronicle office for over an hour talking (well, mostly talking ;-)). Can you believe, he's been in love with me for months at least? Well, he says he's known it for about that long, and that it could actually have been years. And you know what? I think it was the same for me – I have never liked any girl he has dated (she would always be too 'this' or not enough 'that' – basically, she wasn't me, and that was unacceptable, even then).
And Knight's opinion has always mattered to me more than anyone's (even if I would have rather died than admit as much to him); and it's not that I always asked his 'permission' before doing what I wanted, or that I didn't go ahead if he disapproved, but disappointing him would always feel like the end of the world.
I can't believe I didn't realize all of this sooner – I feel like that girl in Clueless. Except, you know, hopefully a little less ditzy.
You know, being with Knight like this is surprisingly unawkward – yes, I can kiss him now if I want to (and I usually do want to), but I can still talk to him like always, we can still remain silent if we want to without feeling pressured to make conversation, and I know without needing to arrange it that we'll be heading to school together tomorrow like we always do.
It's almost like nothing's changed, and I guess it hasn't, except for the better. I think maybe we were always dating in everything but the name and we just didn't realize it – and now it's official, which can only be good.
And, well, that's it for now, I guess. Hope I didn't bore you, Izzy – but since I know you will have devoured every detail of this email before (probably) jumping up and down squealing and demanding inordinately large amounts of money from John which you will have won from placing bets on how long it would take me and Jerry to get together (don't deny it, I know you did), I won't apologize for the novel I've practically written to you.
Hope John and the kids are doing well. All my love to them and you,
Em