"I need to ask you something," he said, and I could hear the nervousness in his voice even through the phone.
We had been on the call for almost an hour. Just talking. About nothing, really. About everything.
It was 2.a.m for me, which meant it was 1.a.m for him in Chicago. We should have been sleeping.
But we never slept when we were talking to each other.
"Okay," I said.
"Are you scared?" he asked.
"Of what?"
"Of me. Of us. Of this."
For a second, I thought about lying. About saying no, everything was fine, that I'm not scared at all. But that's not what we did anymore. We didn't lie to each other.
"Yeah," I admitted. "I'm scared. But not in a bad way. I'm scared because it's real now. Because I can't pretend anymore that this is just friendship or just texting or just whatever we were calling it before."
"Good," he said quietly. "I'm scared too."
"Why?" I asked, even though I thought I knew.
"Because I love you," he said. It was the first time he had said it like that. Not joking. Not hinted. Not hidden inside another sentence. Plainly. He continued. "And I'm terrified that I'm going to mess it up. That the distance is going to mess it up. That one day you're going to wake up and realize that long distance is too hard and you're going to leave."
My throat tightened .
"I'm not going to leave," I said.
"You don't know that," he replied softly. "You can't promise something like that."
"Then what do you want me to do?" I asked, I could hear the frustration creeping into my own voice. "I'm already here. I'm already choosing you every single day. You are the first person I talk to when I wake up and the last person I think about before I sleep. I don't know what else I can give you right now."
"I know," he said quickly. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pressure you. I just… I need to know that this is real for you. That you're not just doing this because it's easy or because I'm convenient right now."
"It's not easy," I said. "And you're not convenient. You're three hundred miles away and we can't even kiss and I'm sitting in my dorm room at 2 in the morning telling my feelings to a screen. Nothing about this is easy."
He laughed, but it was sad.
"So what are we doing?" he asked. "What is this? Because I need a name for it. I need to know if you're mine."
I stopped breathing for a second.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Yes what?"
"Yes... I'm yours. This is real. I want this."
On the screen, his face broke into a smile that made everything feel possible. Like maybe the distance didn't matter. Like maybe we could actually do this.
"Say it again," he said.
"I'm yours, Daniel."
"God, I love you," he said, and he sounded like he meant it with everything in him. "I love you so much."
We stayed like that for a while. Just looking at each other through the screen, not saying anything. Just being there. And somehow, it felt like the most important thing we'd ever done.
Then reality crept back in.
"When are you coming home?" he asked.
Home. He'd called it home. Something about the way he said home made my chest tightened.
"I'm not sure yet," I said. "Maybe next month. Maybe longer. It depends on my classes and work and…"
"How long?" he interrupted gently . "Just tell me. How long until I can actually see you? Not through a screen. Actually see you."
I did the math in my head. It was November. Winter break was in about five weeks, but that was only two weeks off. Then I'd have to come back for spring semester.
"Five weeks," I said. "If I can get a ride home for mid-semester break."
Five weeks suddenly felt like forever .
"Okay," he said, but he didn't sound okay.
"Daniel"
"No, it's okay. I'm okay. It's just… five weeks is a long time."
"I know."
"How are we going to do this?" he asked. It wasn't like he was blaming me or angry. He was just asking the question that we were both sitting with. "How do we keep this going when you're there and I'm here and we can only see each other for a few days at a time?"
I didn't have an answer. I'd been asking myself the same thing since the moment I realized I loved him.
"I don't know," I admitted . "But we will figure it out. We have to."
"We will," he said, but he sounded uncertain. "We have to."
For a while we didn't speak. Not an awkward silence. Just two people miles apart, trying to figure out if what we had was strong enough to survive this.
"Lena," he said finally, and his voice was softer.
"Yeah?"
"I know this is hard. And I know the distance sucks and I know that five weeks feels like forever,"
He paused.
"But this moment right now, this is what I'm going to hold onto. This is what I'm going to remember when the distance gets too much and we're both frustrated and we're wondering if this is even worth it. I'm going to remember how it felt to finally say I love you and to hear you say it back."
My eyes burned.
"And when we finally get to be in the same place again," he continued, "I'm going to hold you like I've been holding onto the idea of you all this time.
My heart pounded.
"I'm going to show you exactly what all of this means to me. Every conversation, every late night call, every moment of this distance, I'm going to prove to you that it was all worth it."
He looked straight into the camera.
"I don't know how long it will take," he said softly, "but one day I'm going to stand in front of you and tell you all of this in person.
My chest tightened.
"And when that happens, " he continued, "you'll never have to wonder if I'm leaving."
I could only whisper one word.
"Okay,"
"Okay?" he asked.
"I believe you. I'm going to wait. I'm going to do this. I'm going to be yours through all of it."
He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made me understand why I was willing to do this. Why I was willing to wait five weeks to see him.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Neither of us hung up.
We stayed on the call until we both fell asleep, my phone warm against my ear, his breathing the last thing I heard before I drifted off.
Still waiting for the moment he promised.
Still believing it would come.