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The first letter fell out of his locker a week into the tenth grade. Russel chased after it immediately, thinking it was a page of his notes, but when he caught it, he realized the handwriting was foreign to him. The slightly shaky, but otherwise perfectly neat cursive letters were a far cry from his usual looping writing. Russel’s eyes only tore away from it when the first bell rang clearly. The page was shoved haphazardly in his bag as he hurried to get to class.
There it lay forgotten, until hours later, when Russel took his first break from studying. He looked over to his backpack as he sipped his milk, letting his thoughts be drawn back to it for the first time since that morning. His curiosity killed him until he finally drew the now slightly crumpled paper out. The words on it were still obvious to him, though. They’d been carefully woven into a poem unlike anything Russel had ever read before
Do you know how fine you are?
I think you do, with how you walk down these halls.
Those first lines hit him like a speeding bullet. Russel thought about how he walked down the halls of his school- keepin’ his chin up and back straight like his momma taught him- and he knew this poem must be for someone else. He should stop reading and figure out who it is- maybe Sidney Jacobs, her locker was two down from his and she was really pretty. His eyes kept absorbing the rest of it on their own.
Your shy smile makes my heart jump in my ribs.
You’re like a rhythm I wanna hear all the time.
This was wrong. He shouldn’t be reading these words obviously meant for Sidney Jacobs- or maybe it was Chernice Hamilton, the girl right next to him, she had nice hair. Perhaps it was for the new girl with the blue-tipped hair and hot-pink rollerblades that she rode everywhere.
Your rhythm and mine oughta be intertwined
Cause boy, you’re somethin’ else
So it wasn’t for Sidney or Chernice or that new girl. It was probably for Clint Thompson then, since he was so handsome. Perhaps Harry Amari then, considering how athletic he was. Russel’s mind couldn’t make up any excuse to keep reading, but he did anyways. The words under his eyes were so intoxicating in a way he’d never really read before. That wasn’t true, he’d read love letters to Del, he knew what these kinds of juvenile poems looked like. But, for the first time, he could pretend someone had waxed poetic about him. Russel kept reading.
Your eyes are full of things I can’t even dream
Would you tell me all of it if I came clean?
Oh, so now this mystery author was rhyming. Russel laughed at how silly and cheesy it was, or at least how silly and cheesy it’d be if this was for him. He pushed reality away again.
All I’m saying here is this
You’re someone I really wanna kiss
So I’m really hoping you won’t dismiss
My little letter without much wits
Below the final lines, the letter was signed your secret admirer. Russel leaned back and sighed. If these words had really been written with him in mind, he’d try to figure out who it was as soon as he could. But, as it was, he knew he’d have to give it away first thing tomorrow morning.
Unless he left it at home by accident the next morning. And did the same the day after, and the day after that too.
The years passed and the letters didn’t stop. Russel had figured they would stop pretty quickly when the writer figured out their crush wasn’t getting them, but they still showed up in his locker like clockwork once a month. With every sheet of poetry, the young percussionist felt worse for the hapless author, obviously totally lost on whoever these were meant for, but never receiving a reply. Yet, he kept every one. Eventually, they found their way into a shoebox left under his bed, after he’d read them a few times.
He only got them in school though, so his summers were spent looking over each letter again whenever he had time. On occasion, he even took one with him when he went out with Del and the boys. He’d find a quiet moment away from them before he read the letter, to avoid the teasing or demands for an explanation. That was where his best friend caught him during one of their one-on-one outings, heart-eyed over the last of the letters he’d received before school had ended that year.
“Yo, Russ, this where you been?”
The young rapper sat down on the steps next to Russel, who quickly hid the poem from his friend’s line of sight. Del’s eyes fell on it instantly and he grinned like a cat that’s caught the mouse.
“What’s that? Lemme see.”
“What’s it matter to you?” Russel quipped back. He’d never felt so nervous in his life, but that was amplified by ten when the paper was snatched from his hands in an instant.
“Hey, give that back!” he shouted, barely being kept back by Del’s arm. Suddenly, the struggles and laughter from his best friend stopped all at once. Russel didn’t need to look at Del’s face to know he was reading the beautiful words on it, but he did anyways. He’d never been unable to read his best friend’s expression before, but Del’s scanning eyes and closed mouth proved to be completely foreign. Russel pulled himself back into a ball as small as he could make himself as he waited. When Del was done, the young drummer heard him moving the paper down. The silence between them could’ve been cut with a knife. Del beat Russel to breaking it by just a few seconds.
“I met a prince in my dreams last night. He had the bluest eyes and the strongest arms.”
Russel had never heard the words spoken out loud before. His eyes stayed trained on his frayed laces as they widened. He almost wanted to beg Del to stop, but the tone in his best friend’s voice told him he couldn’t.
“He was richer than anything I’ve ever known, too. But he is nothing compared to you.”
A hand fell between Del’s leg and Russel’s. The drummer felt like he should cover it with his own. He stayed perfectly still.
“Your smile can keep me warm in the coldest winter. Your eyes are dark brown pools I want to get lost in.”
Russel gave up the ghost and refocused his gaze on his best friend’s hand. He wondered if holding it would be as nice as he thought it would be. His mind screamed at him, telling him it was wrong, but for once, he ignored those thoughts.
“How long has it been now, my darling? I don’t think it matters, dearest starling.”
Del stopped reading. Why did he stop reading? An alarm went off in Russel’s head, telling him he wouldn’t get to hear the rest. He tried to not feel disappointed about it. Then, two hands came up to his head. They gently pulled it until Russel was staring into his best friend’s eyes. The look they gave him was different from anything the drummer had ever seen from his friend. Yet, he knew exactly what that look meant. He’d seen it too many times in girls chasing Del to not know it.
“I’ve never believed in fate before you, boy. Now every day with you gives me a new kind of joy. My parents say I’m too young to feel this way. But what I feel for you will never decay.”
Russel suddenly knew the writer of those letters, the person he’d swooned over for more than a year. He stared right back into Del’s eyes for a moment, looking for the confirmation he needed. They didn’t give it, but the mouth below them whispered for them, “Do you like my letters?”
Russel started crying and wrapped his arms around his best friend, the writer of those mysterious love letters, and the only person he’s ever been this crazy for.
It was pure bliss for months after that first day. Del and Russel now spent more time together than they had ever before, and they held hands whenever they thought they could get away with it. Their regular sleepovers were now spent sharing each other’s beds, holding each other close. Del still used the inches he had on Russel to his advantage, but now he would kiss the top of the drummer’s head instead of resting his arms on it. Russel had never felt so smitten over anyone before in his life.
And then came the fight. Russel didn’t even know how it started anymore, but he knew it ended with him angrily doing his homework alone on a September night, three days after the last time he’s talked to Del. His momma knocked on the door lightly before she came in and set a folded-up page on the desk without saying a word. Russel didn’t acknowledge it until she was gone.
The second he looked over at it, he sighed. The handwriting on the outside had become all too familiar to him. He sighed as he unfolded it carefully. Even when he was so angry with Del, he knew he’d regret not looking this over.
Three years ago my beat was eternal
Then I saw a wilted brown flower
There was creaking of metal rubbing against metal outside and a clattering of that same metal moving too fast. Russel ignored it.
Before my eyes, it’s bloomed bright and strong
And, somehow, it’s willing to share its life with me
He told himself not to fall for these words as his heart melted. The metal clambered and clanked together.
And my beat's been still ever since
Something like this is rare on these cold streets
The sounds outside stopped at the window. Someone rasped their knuckles against it three times. Russel kept reading without looking over at it.
But now I’ve sent that flower away
And I regret it every single day
The three knocks came once more. Russel let out a deep sigh as he pushed his homework away. He wouldn’t be getting it done tonight. His eyes scanned over the rest of the page as he stood up and stretched.
The warmth I stole, I must return
Or its anger will forever burn
I’ll always chase it as night chases day
And it breaks my heart to let it go away
Russel set the poem down on a shelf as he opened the window. Del didn’t climb in the way he usually did, instead just standing there sheepishly. The drummer stuck his hand out into the warm night air to caress the cheek of his boyfriend.
“I’m sorry. I just needed to see you one more time,” Del breathed out shakily as soon as it touched him. Russel’s other hand came up to the rapper’s other cheek, then his head came out of the window. The hands gently forced Del to look at his boyfriend in the eye. He let those beautiful, nearly black eyes pierce into his very soul for just a second before closing his eyes and leaning in.
As it turned out, Del’s lips were far rougher than Russel had ever dreamed of. It was perfect.
That shoebox lived on the highest shelf in a closet now. It collected dust most days, but on days like this one, it shed that coat of forgottenness. On days like this one, the same hand that’d placed those letters in so carefully sifted through them a bit. It was rougher now, and tired from years of use, but it was the same hand nonetheless. It brought out whatever sheet of aged paper it grasped out to be read over carefully. If a tear or ten stained it now, it didn’t wash away the words of pure, childish adoration, carefully placed side by side in blue ink. He always made sure of that.
Today, the last of those letters ended up in his hand. He remembered the night he read it for the first time perfectly. That kiss had been the first of many they’d shared once upon a time. It’d been the start of so much more too. Late night talks about possible apartments, jobs, college plans, whatever had come to mind for them really. They hoped and they wished and they had whispered declarations of love until the sun had come up on the intertwined lovers. Now, the drummer didn’t want to be awake after nine most nights.
He’d changed, that much was all too true. His love had changed too, considering he no longer warmed Russel’s bed at night, and hadn’t in a long time. The drummer had changed too, by his own standards. It was good, though. Life and time had thrown curveballs at him and he’d survived. He was different, and would never be the same, but it was okay.
The letter fell back into the box softly. Its lid was replaced and it was moved back to the highest shelf, on the right side of two other boxes. Russel pulled the box at the very end down. He opened it, pulled out the notebook and blue ink pen inside, and began writing.
Dear Del,
I never told you, but I loved your letters. I miss you.