Do You Remember

It wasn’t long after the needle incident.
You turned seventeen the day before and we were sitting in your bedroom putting the new CDs that you had received from your family and friends into your iTunes so that they could be synced on your new iPod Touch that you got from your parents.

We were singing along to ‘Two is Better Than One’ from your new Boys Like Girls CD when suddenly you muted the volume.
I stopped singing in mid-word and looked at you, confused.

“You have a nice voice, Joshy,” you told me sincerely.

I had done a little happy dance inside my head when I heard you say that.
The fact that you liked my voice meant the world to me.
But of course, I couldn’t let you know that that complement made me the happiest person ever.

You might’ve been a bit weirded out if you knew that as soon as you said that my brain was off and running, planning dates in which I serenade you and then you repay me with… NO! Stopping there. You already think I’m a freak, no need to give you more evidence to argue the case.

I struggled to get an expression of nonchalance on my face that replaced what must’ve been a maniacal look of lust previously and replied quickly, “Thanks? Is that why you stopped the music? To tell me that?” I asked.
You shook your head, “No, let’s play Twenty Questions. I want to know more about you.”

“Ad, you know everything about me,” I had told you, but that was a lie, as you found out not long after.
“No, I don’t think I do… So, question one: Do you like anyone?” Shit. I opened my mouth to answer but you interrupted me, “And you have to tell the truth,” you said with a smirk.

“I hate you,” I stated, glaring at you.
“No you don’t, you love me.” Damn straight. “Now, answer the question.”

“Umm… yes?”
“You don’t sound too sure. Who is it?”
“No way. I am not telling you. Besides, it’s my turn to ask you a question,” I sad defensively.

“Nope, I’ve had enough of that game. Now, is it… Rebecca? Zara? No! Leah? Oooh, maybe Georgia?”
“I’M NOT TELLING YOU!” I shouted.

As usual, you completely ignored me and continued throwing names at me like there was no tomorrow.
Obviously you were completely off the mark, but I wasn’t going to tell you that.

“Oh, please Joshy. Please tell me. Please, please, please?” you whined, sounding like a teenage girl trying to find out who her BFFL was like, totally in luv with so that she could try and set them up. “Oh, is it Anita? It’s Anita isn’t it?”

“NO! Goddamnit, Addison. It isn’t any of them. Leave me alone.”

You had the cutest little thinking face then that just made me want to go ‘Nawhhh’ and kiss your pouting lips, but I restrained myself with difficulty. “But, I’ve been through pretty much every girl we know of… Have you met someone without telling me? Who is she?”

“It’s not a fucking ‘she’, okay!” I shouted before slapping both hands over my mouth, my eyes wide.
The look on your face was priceless.
Your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head as you stared at me, making me feel very awkward.
When you recovered slightly from the initial shock, you moved your hands that were sitting in your lap to mine that were still covering my mouth, and pulled them away, allowing me to talk. “Shit,” I said in the tiniest voice possible.

You laughed nervously, “I guess that wasn’t meant to come out, huh?”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“You like a guy?” you asked, and I nodded my head once, looking at you anxiously in fear of rejection. “Josh? It’s fine. Really. I have no problem with it.”

I breathed a sigh of relief; I had no idea what I would do if I didn’t have you in my life.
You smiled at me, and I smiled back.
You were still holding my hands, which I suddenly became acutely aware of as you squeezed them in your soft hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked me, and I nodded. “You’re not upset that I found out are you? Because it really doesn’t matter to me whether you like guys or girls… or both. You’re still my Joshy.”

‘My Joshy.’
Oh God, Addison.
How is it that you managed to make me fall even more in love with you when you said that?
Because you did, and you continuously do even after all this time being together.

“Thanks, Addy,” I murmured, and you pulled me into a hug.
We embraced for a few seconds before you pulled away and looked me in the eyes.

“Which one is it anyway?” you asked.
“Which one is what?”
“Well… is it just guys… or both? It’s not like it matters a great deal, but I’m curious.”

“Would you like me to say it properly?” I asked you sarcastically and you nodded enthusiastically.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Addison? I’m gay. Happy?”
“Yes,” you said, and you hugged me tight until I forced you off me (unwillingly) because I couldn’t breathe.

“Wow. My gay best friend… So… who do you like?” you asked with an evil smirk.
“No. Way.”

You laughed and un-muted the computer. ‘Billie Jean’, by Michael Jackson was playing.
“Sing to me, Joshy,” you said cutely.

You still say that to me when you’ve had a particularly rough day, or when you just want to be sung to sleep.
I’ve never refused.
It always makes me feel important when you ask me to sing for you, like I have a purpose in life: to make you happy, which is all I’ve ever wanted to do anyway.