More for you!

Longest chapter so far, since it includes diary entry stuff, they'll be in bold so you can tell the difference :)

Enjoy!

Seeing actual Math work in Alvin's actual handwriting was a scary sight itself. Simon persisted. It would have been clever of Alvin to hide his thoughts in here. No way would anyone look through it.

If you weren't the object of his affection, that is.

Sure enough, after impatiently flipping through the book like an animated feature, a few pages near the back were scrawled on with much too much writing to be Maths.

Simon back-tracked eagerly to find the first entry.

Hardly an "entry". It wasn't dated and it didn't have hordes of writing, just large capital letters written diagonally so they could be even larger, traced over and over so they were thick and in bold: "I CAN NOT BE FEELING THIS!".

If that's not about me I don't know what is… Simon touched a hand to it with a pained expression. Alvin had been really confused. Where was I..? He wondered, and turned the page, not surprised that nothing was written on the back of the first part – it was pretty much ripped.

The next entry was a small paragraph, still undated.

"Apparently I can be feeling this…" it read, Simon shifting comfortably to read eagerly. "I can't believe after everything I've done to be normal, to be like everyone else, I still end up a freak. Me! Gay? I can barely believe it! I mean, okay, maybe I'm not gay… it is only him I see like that. Which doesn't make it any better, of course. I don't know, maybe – hopefully – it's just a phase."

Simon bit his lip and looked to the next page, where there was a longer entry.

"Phase indeed… more like phase one. It's been a month! I still keep blushing every time he talks to me! I still feel those stupid sudden butterflies! His eyes still make me feel like a teenage fangirl! If anything, it's worse! Yeah: somehow, this got WORSE. I need help with this! I don't know what's happening to me!

If this goes on much longer, I'll have to tell him. I don't want to, I don't want this to be another thing that will make us distant. But I need to tell someone, knowing that they wouldn't tell anyone else. And like hell he'd tell anyone.

Except maybe the police…

That's the worst part, isn't it, though? I KNOW the consequences. I KNOW it's illegal. With every fibre of my being, I DO NOT WANT THIS!

I hate it! I can't STAND the conflict going on in my head every second of the day!"

Simon sighed softly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to keep reading this. He didn't want to be sympathetic. He wanted to stay mad at Alvin, shout at him for being disgusting…

It wasn't good to know that Alvin was already shouting it to himself.

With a reluctant drive, Simon turned the page. The next one was dated, but… oddly. It looked more like a story than a rant, using proper tense and a great deal of description.

Simon stood up and sat down more comfortably on Alvin's bed, taking a few seconds to prepare himself for an onslaught of uncomfort before reading.

"9th October 2014…"

Oh, wow, that was almost a year ago… Simon thought worriedly, continuing to read.

"This is where it all began. Just in case it all gets too much, it's nice to think that someone might be able to know what's possessed me. I didn't even realise I'd been doing it, but conveniently, this is a Math book… and well, the person I fell in love with has a great passion for this subject. If anyone, I expect that person be the first to read this because of that."

'What does he mean "in case it all gets too much"..?' Simon muttered concernedly, hoping that Alvin had never considered… suicide, because of this. Surely not.

"In saying that, Simon, I need you to keep reading."

Simon blinked. Alvin had expected this… maybe not him snooping, but he'd known Simon would look through the book at some point.

"Like I said, it started on October 9th 2014. I was getting on your nerves again and you were playing around with mine, as you always do. I don't suppose you'd remember this day, or this event, but for me it's been a consistent prod at the back of my mind when I see you. How I punched you hard in the chest? Remember, you fainted from the impact on your lungs?

I was so scared, not just of getting in trouble, but because I'd never, ever, ever meant for it to get that violent. I could have sworn I stared at you for five minutes in shock and fear before I kneeled next to you, your eyes closed, not a trace of pain on your features, as if you'd been wiped blank.

I was frantic.

And as I stayed beside you, panicking and praying you'd be okay, I started to wonder why I hadn't gone to get anyone, yet.

Soon, I realised I was doing it out of selfishness. I wanted to be the person you woke up to, I wanted to prove that I wouldn't leave your side, I wanted to apologise without Dave's disapproval, or Theodore stealing the first hug.

I wanted you to appreciate me. More than I'd ever done before – and trust me, that's saying something.

I wanted you to look at me like you do, with that little smirk, and know it was just for me.

When you did wake up, I saw it. Confusion at first, a little "what happened?" a little bit of "you're a jerk", and then a slight smirk at me. You said to me: "You didn't run off? How sweet of you, Alvin."

And even though it was sarcastic, it was so you, and that's all I wanted.

Of course, it didn't take long to realise what exactly I meant by thinking that.

We were in Math in November, and you were showing the class how to differentiate by first principles. And when I started getting dreamy-eyed and smiling at you… well, I realised I only ever did that to girls I had serious attractions to.

After a day, I was obsessed with being around you. I hid it, though. My method was to annoy you to keep you talking to me, so I could hear your voice. So I asked for your help with homework, in every subject. I came down and pestered you in your basement, until you started to really shout. I even started encouraging Theodore to go to Ellie's more often, so that, when we were in our room in the afternoon, it was just you and me.

I apologise for that.

Looking back, I feel so disgusted in myself. There I was making you hate me more, when I was actually – simply – checking you out.

There's no excuse I can give for doing that. But I do know better now.

Soon, I started to feel ashamed and scared of my feelings. I'm sure you've seen the first page. That was three days' worth of attacking the letters with the same pen, trying to burn the message into my sick brain. My other two entries were just to clear my head. See, you kept getting up to teach Math, so I kept writing down my feelings to distract myself. Hence the Math book.

Of course, my feelings for you went further. Why else would I be writing this?

Jump to January 2015."

The writing was now in blue pen, Simon took that as another day's entry.

"This is so hard for me to write, to admit. Especially thinking about you reading this… Simon, please don't disown me.

Don't you hate how inevitable things seem, when all you want is for them to go away? I kept saying to myself that nothing was going to amount from this "crush", that I wasn't going anywhere with it, that my attraction to you was a stupid little phase brought on by – you know, maybe – how you matured into such a strong, confident person.

I didn't realise it was going to include… other ways, you've matured."

'Here it is…' Simon frowned, flinching slightly. He was about to know exactly what Alvin wanted to do with him.

"So it was a cold day, and I was just getting up to make myself a coffee, walked out of my room… and there you were.

Your body was glistening from the shower you'd just had, letting off a bit of steam in the cold air, I smiled to remember how much you hate the cold and how hot you make your showers…

Let me blame you here: you're the one who lost the towel. It's not like I yanked it down with my mind.

You'd only just seen me when it happened, your cheeks went red and so did mine.

I stared, shamelessly. My first look since my feelings developed. I felt my heart going haywire, my body erupting in fireworks and shivers long after you'd picked up the towel and walked away indigently, like you didn't care that I'd seen anything.

Good lord, Simon, why do you have to be so perfect?

With this major shift came the thoughts you'd expect would come… I can't tell you how sorry I am for it. For all of this. It was like the switch had been flicked and it was stuck there. I got in, but couldn't get out. Once desire came into play, Simon, I was forever doomed.

I slowly got over heavily sexual thoughts, after a few dreams, a few individual sessions… no, soon enough I started to get – I still don't know how to describe it properly – devoted, to you.

Getting a date to hide my sexuality change wasn't an option anymore. I felt too unfaithful. Especially since you were still single. Instead of wanting to pin you down and… well, you know – All I wanted was your first kiss. I fantasised about it constantly, about getting along with you and being madly in love…

Love was there from the start, but I identified it completely by April.

That was the best part of all of this mess. I started to really respect you, and because of that, I didn't feel guilty about my feelings anymore. I was safe just to want you to be happy, there was no harm in caring about you. It was like being your brother again, with just that hint of a want to show you how much I really loved you.

That's not so bad, right?"

Simon turned the page, it was written differently again. Just a bit less neat.

"Sorry, I never finished… so… that last entry was two months ago. It's now July, and I take it all back: it's bad. It's very bad.

God, I feel so disgusting. Forget sexual stuff – that's not a main focus. That stayed the same, at least. Now it's all morals.

Simon, I hope with all my heart that you're not reading this, because you don't need to know. You just don't. It kills me to know about it, I don't want to put you through all this ridiculous mess. I don't want you to be involved at all, I couldn't forgive myself if you knew about it –

After our fight the other day especially. I know you hate me. That's why you can't ever know.

For a month I've been getting these horrific nightmares, and if you knew about the way I feel… then they'd just come true. Wouldn't they? You'd go around being weird, making hints at how disappointed or repulsed you are with me. Eventually, you'd confront me about it, and when I confess everything, you'd go straight to the police.

I feel so morally lost, but at the same time I have too much moral conscience. Maybe if I didn't have morals, I wouldn't care about how I feel about you. Maybe I'd pour my heart out to you and steal your first kiss like I "wanted".

I don't want it anymore.

I want you to be with someone who you can actually have a future with. I want you to have children, a wife, a nice house and the perfect life.

Anything is better than what I can offer you.

All I can sell to you is my love. My devotion and determination. Simon, I would fight for you like there's no tomorrow if you ever wanted to be with me.

But don't you dare.

We can't have a family. We can't get married. We can't live in peace – heck, we couldn't even tell anyone. The only thing I can give to you, Simon? Is the promise that I'll be in the cell next to you until our dying day, paying the price for the way I feel.

There's no point trying to convince myself it would work. That bed of roses is crippled. Especially by these nightmares… they're getting more frequent, too.

Thrice this week, twelve times this month.

I just hope I don't wake anyone up with all the yelling…

This is the last time I'm going to write about these feelings. As far as I'm concerned: they don't exist anymore. Simon, forgive me. I love you. I'm so in love with you, and I'm going to suffer for it. That's my cross to bear, not yours.

So this is me talking to your imaginary eyes, assuring you that I'll never let you feel this pain or confusion.

Yours forever,

Alvin Seville"

Simon stared for a moment. He felt slightly shaky, and his eyes were glossy in early tears. He closed the book and closed his eyes for a second.

He was right to do this. He was glad he knew the whole story, now.

Well… almost. That entry had been three months ago.

But Simon could bet that Theodore's involvement would have been a major chapter, how he was scared of Theodore spilling the secret, how he had to be more careful than ever. How hard it was to tell someone.

Simon frowned, then, and looked down at the other two books. So what's in these..? He asked himself, picking them up and opening the bottom one.

The bespectacled boy flushed at what he saw. At random, throughout the book, were little confessions of love amidst gorgeous drawings. None of them were explicit, most were just hands held, or shadows, or more realism drawings such as flowers or water. Alvin was excellent.

The last one was probably the most personal.

It's me… Simon blushed, seeing his face drawn like this was… well, flattering. He made me look… good… handsome, even…

Underneath it, at the bottom of the page, was a little sentence:

"You bring out the best in me…"

Simon felt his heart skip at the compliment, flattery and admiration coming on strong. He tore himself away from the book and closed it, opening up the latest one.

'Hey, wait a minute,' Simon blinked, scanning the writing again and again to make sure. He turned a page and his lips started to tug into a smile. Written on these pages were notations, the little squares of the Math book acting as a stave.

They were all his songs.

'He… he liked them…' Simon noticed, turning another page and admiring Alvin's perfect pitch. The next page had writing at the bottom.

"Why doesn't he show me these already..? I can't start singing them yet, otherwise he'll think I'm spying on him…

That nerd can play a piano, I'll give him that."

It was dated, too, this one. Simon beamed with pride. 'This one was before he started having feelings for me.' He noted. It made him feel so much better – Alvin wasn't just doing it because he was biased, he legitimately liked Simon's songs.

Soon it went into the "crush" territory. Alvin added little adornments to the music with drawings underneath them.

He started writing lyrics to them, started to add guitar lines.

I had no idea he was so immersed in my songs… he's practically got an album in here…

Simon jumped as he heard the front door snap shut, and he quickly grabbed all of the books, piling them and pushing them underneath the bed again. He righted the misshapen items on the nightstand and brushed off Alvin's bed where he'd been sitting, then turned and tugged his Chemistry book out before kicking off his shoes and lying against his pillows on his own bed to read. Or, "read", he supposed, too full of information to try and focus on more.

'– know! I'm just getting my pyjamas! So I can dress in the bathroom… and –' he spotted Simon and froze. 'Simon.' He smiled a little. 'I thought you'd be in the basement.'

'Sorry to disappoint you.' Simon returned.

Alvin shook his head quickly. 'No, no, I just…' he sighed. 'Never mind.' He waved a hand passively and moved to his bed.

Simon pretended to read again. 'How was the game?'

'Uh…' Alvin began. 'Well, we didn't lose.' He shrugged and took his pyjamas out from under his pillow. 'The other team had this crazy guy who was knocking everyone to the ground…' he shook his head in distaste. 'So we won the game, but one of my boys is out for the season. Broken collarbone and arm and kneecap.'

'Wow,' Simon lowered the book and scanned Alvin concernedly. 'Are you alright?'

Alvin turned with a smile. Simon knew what he was trying to hide. That was flattery: Alvin was happy Simon had asked him. 'A few bruises, I guess.' He nodded, non-committedly hugging his p.j's to his chest. 'I'm too quick for them, though.' He winked once, but blushed immediately after and sped-walked past Simon, muttering curses to himself.

Simon smiled, too. That was… he re-imaged Alvin's smile, the little hopeful look, the way he acted shy like that. It was… cute.

I can gladly say that there's still more to go! :D Next chapter should be up tomorrow, see ya then!