I know, I know. I shouldn't be writing this. You already rejected me. But I am anyway, because I haven't given up yet. I'm not going to.
You kissed me back. If that's not encouragement, what is? It was the best kiss of my life, Kellan. It was with you.
And I'm not sorry. You wanted it every bit as badly as I did, and I intend to prove it to you. When you change your mind, I'll be waiting and more than willing.
Why? Simple. Because I love you, Kellan Stanton.
I'm not entirely sure how you feel about me, of course, but your brother told me some, and your reactions told me other things. I don't know if he told you about that conversation, but he was eager to share with me some of the reasons for your reaction.
Most importantly, he told me that you care about me. That you care about me more than you should, more than you have for any of the guys in your past. You know, the guys you did accept. You're scared. I know you're scared. But you don't need to be. I'm not them.
But especially, Con let me know that I stand a chance after all, and you'd better prepare yourself, Kellan, because as soon as I graduate, you won't have an excuse to hide behind anymore. And I'm going to pursue you with everything I have.
If you really didn't want this to happen, you shouldn't have let me get close to you. You shouldn't have taken care of me the way you did—and I don't just mean about math class tutoring. You shouldn't have coddled me when I got upset, you shouldn't have let me cry on you. You shouldn't have listened to my stupid high school drama so attentively without judging me for my stupid mistakes. You shouldn't have cared about my art. You shouldn't have told me so much about yourself. If I was just a student to you, you certainly wouldn't have confided in me. You shouldn't have.
How could I resist falling for you, Kellan? You're wonderful. Just thinking about your smile is enough to make my day—I don't even have to see it. If you're right, if there is a heaven, I already know what it's like because I've had you touch me. Only seeing you during the week, during math class, isn't enough. I can't give up on you.
I can't tell you if you feel the same way I do. All I can tell you is how, honestly, how I feel, and hope that something gets the message across. I can still feel your hands on me. I can still feel your lips against mine, your tongue against mine. I can still hear your breathing speed up. I can still taste you on my lips.
Do you still want to push me away?
P.S. Graduation is in a week, sweetheart.
A/N: So, this probably makes a lot more sense if you've read "Speaking Freely?" and know who Tristan and Kellan are, I think. It's also perhaps notable that Tristan is 19 when he's writing this letter...