When I got there, you pulled a small white square out of your pocket. It was folded neatly and there was cursive writing on it; it looked like so many of the notes my ex girlfriend had written me the year before. This did not surprise me as much as I suppose it should have... you are a boy. Boys do not write notes, they do not fold them, and their handwriting is not in cursive. But you were always sort of the exception.
You said you had written me a note, and held the square out for me to take. I did so and began to open it but changed my mind. It had been a long time since I had recieved any notes and I had forgotten that it was not proper etiquette to read the note right there. I folded it up again and slipped it into my left pocket.
The bell rang, and we did not move for a while. We waited for the crowds to dissipate, and then conformed.
I walked through the door into drama class and fell down into the big yellow chair; unofficially declared "my spot". The bell rang again to announce the start of Read; the twenty minute period of time we are supposed to use for broadening our horizons. I pulled the note out of my left pocket and read the writing on the front.
What does not kill us makes us want to die even more.
I smiled wryly to myself and opened the note.
Inside, you discussed your less than pleasing situation with my best friend at the time. You spoke about how much it hurt you to think that you would never be together, how much pain you were in in general.
I re-folded the note and turned to the individual sitting next to me.
"I think I broke him..."
"Broke who?"
"..."
Yes. I suppose I never told you how disgustingly responsible I felt for all of that. I suppose that in all of our talks about your love life, I failed to mention that I believed [and still believe, actually] that the falling in with her, the fact that you two did not end up together, was entirely my fault.
"Broke who?"
And that is when I promised myself that I would not hurt you. That is when I promised myself that I would not walk away, that I would not make you feel this again, that I was going to make you happy even if if killed me.
Which you've almost done now.
But a promise is a promise, and I do not break mine.