I Don't.

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Chapter 26.

 There are many things you can learn about someone in three weeks.

You can learn their favorite color, and how much they love it just by the amount of time they wear it or just how much they talk about it.

You can learn their favorite foods and how long it takes for them to grow tired of it.

You can learn their favorite song just by the amount of times they play it on repeat.

You can learn how they view the world.

How they listen to music.

How they write music.

Do they like reading or writing better?

Is school their thing or not?

I had learned enough about Andy to love him as much as I do right now. It doesn’t matter if it took only three weeks or a billion years. I learned that I loved him. I learned that he could be the most joke able person and then the most serious. I learned that when he writes music his eyebrows stitch together and he creates a little crease between them. I learned that he’s gotten so used to smoking, his middle and index finger twitch even when there’s nothing between them. I learned that he’s got a bad habit of making fun of his ‘gazelle’ legs. I learned that he loves me almost as much as I love him, if not more. I learned that he loves is fans more than anything in life.

“Andy.” I knock on the door to the room he’s staying in letting him no I was in the room. It’s the last day before he leaves, and despite that fact, we went to school today as a last hurrah. It was chaotic.

They were hectic, completely hectic. The moment we stepped out of the car we were enveloped in fans, some fake, some real. At one point, Andy and I were separated from each other, causing me to meet up with him for only a minute before classes began.

I also learned something about myself: I have no clue what Andy and I are going to do without each other for several months.

“Babe.” He doesn’t turn around to address me, but instead continues to fold his clothes for the plane ride tomorrow night. Despite my first hatred for that nickname I have grown to enjoy the sound of his voice when he says it.

Slowly, I make my way to his bed, which sits five feet away from Jake’s, and take a seat next to the huge suitcase. I am reminded of yesterdays event, Andy and I watching Batman on my bed until midnight, eating nothing but fat foods. It was perfect.

“You actually fold?” I mock my amazement, and smile up at him. “What’s the special occasion?”

He picks up a piece of black clothing and tosses it at my face. I reach up to pull it off and take in what it really is. His underwear.  Scrunching my nose I toss it in his suitcase. You could hardly call his folding, folding as everything was half folded half tossed in.

“Flight leaves at noon tomorrow.” He eyes me, one eyebrow up, waiting for my answer. I fold my hands in my lap before looking up ounce more; he’s studying me.

“Right, we should talk about that.”

“Should we?” There’s a hint of stubbornness in his dialog. Frowning, I help him fold a pair of black skinny's.

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