Work Text:
The fridgid evening air drifts in through the largest window of your treehouse — The one facing the manor — and drifts through your hair and over your back as you hunch over a sheet of paper, scribbling with crayola markers.
It'd be best to do this inside, your sister has said, where the frozen winter air wont nip you. You'll get sick! She cries, but this task requires an amount of security and isolation that your room cannot muster.
It is the second of Februrary, nineteen-ninty-four, and you're writing Joey Claire a valentine.
The contents of this valentine being, once again for the third year, you professing your undying love for her. This is anonymous, of course, because not only would it be utterly embarrassing for anyone to find out about your affections — oh how you'd be teased by both her and your friends — You haven't gotten any… Positive reactions from people hearing about your crush. Specifically from your babysitter, who choked on her glass of wine and swore you to secrecy.
" You're too young to know what you want, Judey, "
" You could get in biggg trouble if you ever told anyone, jus' wait for the feelings to fade. "
Her voice was soft, though it wavered with the alcohol. You asked her why it was so bad, though she wouldn't give you a straight answer.
You haven't told anyone since; Not even your friends. This information stays confidential.
The valentine you're working on — a card made of bright pink construction paper — holds a short poem inside, some of your best work if you were to be asked. You typed it with a typewriter you bought from a local antique store, luckily still in working condition and full of ink. You see, Joey is familiar with your handwriting, and it'd ruin the mission to write it yourself.
You drop the marker you were holding and move a hand over to your pencilcase. The term " pencilcase ", in this instance, is being used loosely. It is a small cardboard box full of different markers, stickers, and general craft supplies you've scavenged from around the house.
You root through it and pick out a green sparkly gel pen. It's a decent pen and a personal treasure of yours, so you use it to carefully trace over the typed letters on the front ( Spelling out " HAPPY VALENTINES DAY " and " FOR JOEY <3 " ). You then doodle little sparkle-stars, akin to the one on Joeys favourite shirt, around the title. You sit up, your back aching from being in one position for too long, and hold the card gently in your hands, flipping it open.
USUALLY, THE COLD COMBS OVER ME,
A SICKENING CHILL, LOST WITHOUT LIGHT.
BUT YOU ARE A FIRE, A STAR IN THE NIGHT,
A WARMTH THAT IS MEANT TO BE.
YOUR LAUGH LIGHTS UP MY DAY,
WITHOUT YOU, LIFE WOULD BE DARK.
YOU LOOK LIKE A PIECE OF ART,
ONE THAT WONT CAUSE DISMAY.
THE MOST STUNNING VIEW,
WOULD LOOK ABSURD,
AND BE DEMURRED,
WHEN PLACED NEXT TO YOU.
I LOVE YOU, JOEY.
<3 HAPPY VALENTINES DAY <3
Miscellanious doodles fill the margins around the poem, depicting roses and birds and really anything you deemed romantic.
You smile. It's perfect.
You look up and through the window above your place on the floor, peering through it and watching Joey's sighlouette spin in her window.
You hope she'll like it, or at least mention it this time. The last couple of cards gifted you with nothing but radio silence.
Somewhere, a star burns brighter; A supernova on the horizon.