Chapter 27 A Guy Who Tried
A Guy Who Tried
Hayvin
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine my ex would appear on my doorstep in the dead of night, bearing a gift and honeyed words that lingered in the air.
Even after his taillights dissolve into darkness, I linger in the foyer, clutching the gift as if it might shatter.
The seconds crawl by. Dread prickles at my skin, each heartbeat amplifying the weight of what’s about to happen.
Unwrapping it feels momentous. I still feel the scrape of his bandaged fingers against my chin, a silent testament to the effort and emotion he poured into this offering.
I don’t know what that means for me.
Is it going to change anything? Will I see him differently after I open it? Will I feel differently towards him?
At most, it might soften something inside me, but my hurt is too big for a gift to erase. I don't know if that will ever change.
I brace myself with a slow breath, place the gift in the center of the coffee table, and study it as if it might leap up and poison me. It seems like a threat, camouflaged by paper.
Can anything really hurt me more than I’ve been hurting, though?
My back snaps straight, and my jaw tightens.
No, it can’t.
Colors and their secret languages have always enchanted me, so my favorite hue shifts with my heart. The riot of shades in his chosen wrapping makes me pause, struck by his unexpected thoughtfulness.
Alek has given me gifts throughout our relationship, but I have yet to receive anything to this extent. It’s why I’m careful as I unwrap the messy wrapping paper.
I peel back the tissue paper, my heart thundering with a wild mix of anticipation and a flicker of delight for whatever waits inside.
A soft gasp escapes me, hands pressed to my lips as tears well up, blurring the world into shimmering light.
What do you do when the man you thought was least sentimental gives you a scrapbook that he’s worked painstakingly on to prove that he’s actually the most sentimental man you’ve ever known?
Don’t soften. Don’t soften.
That mantra echoes in my mind as my trembling hand lifts the card resting before a photo of us.
I stare, stunned that he owns a memory I never knew existed.
It must be a candid, snapped by a friend, because I have no recollection of it.
We’re at the lake and I’m sprawled on my back, gazing up at him with a gentle look, while Alek hovers above me, grinning wide.
My arm curls around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair.
Even through my tears, the happiness in that moment is undeniable.
I sniffle and tear my gaze away, lifting the card’s flap with my thumb. The soft periwinkle hue washes over me, a gentle balm for my unraveling heart.
See me, seeing you.
Four words.
That’s all he’s written on this card, but his meaning is clear. This scrapbook is meant for me to see him and our relationship through his eyes.
My fingers roam the black-and-silver cover, reading every clumsy detail he’s added. Stickers, hasty quotes, scattered flourishes, each shouting rookie crafter, yet the intention burns through every choice.
Its whole vibe is ‘a guy who tried’ and I love absolutely everything about it.
When I open the cover, I’m greeted with a yellow sheet with an F. Scott Fitzgerald quote that says, “You’re the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known—and even that is an understatement.”
I bite the corner of my lip, wrestling down the smile threatening to break free.
Don’t soften. Don’t soften.
As I turn each page, my fingers brush over the relics he’s saved from our three years together. Some are so small, so seemingly trivial, I never imagined he’d keep them.
A gum wrapper from our second date because I wouldn’t let him kiss me after dinner until I had him stop and get a pack so I’d have fresh breath.
A hair tie he made me out of a strip from one of his t-shirts when we broke down on the side of the road, and he was working on fixing whatever was wrong with his car.
A giggle bubbles up when I find the page covered in Post-it notes, each one a cheesy pick-up line I once scattered for him to find.
?Well, hey there! I sure don’t need a spoonful of sugar to swallow you.
?If you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.
?Sorry to bother you, but—do you have room for an extra tongue in your mouth?
?My doctor said I lack vitamin D. Can you help give it to me?
?I must be a beaver because I’m dying for your wood.
?I’ll show you my secret passage, but only if you solemnly swear that you’re up to no good.
?Pull my hair like Anakin would.
?Do you like Santa’s laugh? Because I want to be your ho-ho-ho.
?Are you a campfire? Because you are hot, and I want s’more!
?Dude, those pants look terrible on you. Please take them off.
?I would take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring your own snacks.
?If you were a Transformer, you would be Optimus Fine.
I can hardly believe he saved them all. When did I stop leaving these notes? I can’t even recall. Did he ever notice their absence?
A note falls out when I turn the page.
I miss getting these. I’m sorry I made this no longer fun for you.
I wipe away tears and keep reading. Every page is a revelation, the last thing I ever expected from Alek. It shatters everything I thought I knew about him, about us. Part of me clings to anger, but the larger part aches in ways I can scarcely untangle.
Yet with every turn of the page, my anger slips further from my grasp.
I discover photos of myself I never knew existed, snapshots of us I never realized were taken, and the way he looks at me in them. Was I blind to it, or did he only let his guard down for the camera to catch?
Three years of memories unfurl before me as I leaf through the scrapbook’s pages.
For the first time in ages, I truly see him—the man he kept hidden behind his walls. I always believed Alek didn’t love me, but as I follow the timeline of our memories, I watch him fall for me, page by page.
At the end of the scrapbook, there’s another note.
Hayvin Marie,
I’ve always wished that you could see yourself through my eyes.
This was the only way for me to let you do that.
There are so many things that I love about you.
Big things and little things. There are a million reasons, and I’ll never be able to recite them all to you.
It wasn’t love at first sight. I fell in love with you slowly as you revealed each beautiful piece of yourself.
You scared me, Hayvin. Loving you and letting you love me opened me up to a world of hurt.
Growing up, anytime I loved someone or anytime someone loved me, they left.
All I knew about love was pain, abandonment, and betrayal.
You were the first person to love without condition or restraint.
You were the first person who didn’t leave me, even when I was so goddamn hard to love.
Not until I didn’t give you a choice. Everyone has a breaking point, and you found yours.
I’m so sorry that I ever let you get there.
I’m sorry that I didn’t protect you or your love, and I’m sorry that I ever took you and your love for granted.
I messed up in so many ways with you, and I hope to fuck I have a chance to fix it.
You deserve everything beautiful in this world, Hayvin.
You deserve a man who can love you without being scared of it.
I’m working on becoming that man, not just for you, but for myself. You make me want to be a better man.
You told me to prove it, and I want to thank you for letting me do so.
I hope you’re ready for me, Hayvin Marie. I’m coming for you hard, baby girl.
All my love and forever yours,
Alek
What can you possibly do when the man who shattered your heart tries to mend it, piece by piece, with every gift and every gesture?
You fucking cry, all right.
And that’s what I do.
For half an hour, I revisit every page, letting my tears spill freely, as if my soul itself is weeping.
They’re tears of heartbreak and sorrow, but also of release—a cleansing I didn’t know I needed.
When I climb into bed and check my phone, I find a message from Alek waiting for me.
ALEK
The way humming whatever tune you’re working up in your head is the same as breathing to you…I fell in love with that. I’d like to request that you listen to ‘You Are So Beautiful’ by Tommee Profitt ft. Brooke. I really think you’ll like the arrangement. Goodnight, baby girl. I love you.
I fall back against my pillow with a sigh, a tiny smile flirting along my lips. I hold my phone to my chest and close my eyes as if I were a teenager all over again.
That’s what these butterflies in my stomach feel like.
I am terrified he’ll let me down once more, but I can’t keep running forever. I just pray that if he catches me this time, he won’t let me crash to the ground again.
Before I fall asleep, I send him a message of acknowledgement.
ME
I want to fall in love with the butterflies you give me again.