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Collie,
I don’t know how to write this without it being corny as hell, but I’ll say it anyway, because what do I have to lose? I like you, Collie Parker. I like your hair and your eyes and the way you laugh. I wish I could stop thinking about you, but I can’t.
“And you don’t know who wrote it?” Pete flipped it over, revealing a blank page, and then handed it back to Collie.
The rest of the guys craned their necks over the lunch table to get a peek at the note.
“No. I mean, it’s typed up and everything. Someone must’ve slid it under my door last night.”
“Lemme see it.” Collie passed the letter to Olsen, who squinted at it for a moment before putting on the biggest shit-eating grin. “Huh. You’ve really got a secret admirer, you bastard.”
Harkness paused his journaling to read over Olsen’s shoulder. “So which girl do you think it is?”
“Harkness, there are like three thousand girls at this school,” Ray pointed out.
“Yeah, but she must be living in the same dorm as Parker if she slid it under the door.”
“Or maybe she got her friend to do it,” Baker suggested, poking at his salad.
“Hey, Barko, you live in Campus West, right?” Pete called over to Barkovitch, who, unlike the rest of the guys, seemed entirely uninterested in Collie’s note, sitting hunched over his sandwich. “Did you see any chicks hanging around Parker’s room last night?”
“No.” Barkovitch glared at Pete and then the letter, as if it offended him. He then turned back to his half-eaten sandwich and murmured, “And I don’t give a shit about some gay-ass letter anyway.”
Unphased, Olsen piped up. “Hey, I’ll ask Clem. She’s friends with an RA in West. We’ll get some real fuckin’ eyes on the inside.”
“Thanks, Olsen.” Collie tucked the note back in his breast pocket.
He felt it was sorta fucking poetic to have a love letter close to his heart.
______
Collie,
I saw you the other day on campus putting up posters for your performance for the ISU fundriaser. I’m sure you get embarassed singing in front of other people, but I think it’s cool. That’s the other thing I like about you—you’re talented and cool.
“Man, your secret admirer is shit at spelling.”
“Olsen,” Pete scolded without much heat at all. He looked up at Collie with that look of sympathy he knows too well. “It’s the thought that counts.”
“Maybe we could use it as a clue,” Baker suggested. “Like, that she’s not taking any English classes.”
“It’s true, STEM majors are shit spellers,” Garraty grinned, nudging Pete in his side.
“Hey!” Pete shoved him back playfully. “And also, no, the real clue is here: I’m sure you get embarrassed singing in front of other people. That’s true.”
“I guess,” Collie conceded. He usually didn’t like singing in front of people who weren’t his family. It just felt too personal sometimes.
“So it’s someone who knows you pretty well.”
Olsen let out a fake gasp. “It could even be…one of us.”
From across the table, Barkovitch choked on his Reuben. Stebbins slapped him on the back until he started coughing, sputtering out pieces of corned beef on the table.
“Shut up, man.” Baker elbowed Olsen, grinning.
“It could be one of the girls from the Indigenous Student Union,” Pete suggested.
“Maybe,” Collie shrugged.
He sort of hoped it wasn’t. Half of them were already in relationships. Shania never showed up to meetings, Meg’s annoying as fuck, and Deirdra is…fine, but she’s not really Collie’s type. She’s smart and friendly, but he’s never thought about her romantically before.
Whoever it was still made him feel a little lighter knowing that someone thought he was cool and talented.
______
Collie,
I’ve only known you for a short while, but I can’t get you out of my head. And believe me, I’ve tried. I think about you all the time—in class, at breakfast, even when I’m asleep. Even if you don’t know who I am, I hope you think about me too.
He folded up the letter carefully and slid it into his pocket.
I hope you think about me too.
The words echoed through his mind as he hurried into his biology class five minutes late. He slid into the last empty seat next to Barkovitch, who had one hand tangled in his blond hair and the other tapping a pencil against his cheek. He glanced at Collie briefly before returning to the worksheet on his desk.
It was a boring and relatively uneventful hour, except that they were assigned group projects for the midterm. Before he could even stand up, Barkovitch had already announced him as his partner, which, truthfully, Collie didn’t mind too much; Barkovitch was a tryhard with dumb shit, but that made him way more reliable than the other guys in his biology class, even if his work was a bit messy and he never cited his sources.
At nearly the end of the hour, Collie was willing the minute hand on the clock to move faster when Jenna Davies turned around in her seat. “Hey, Collie, what’re you doing on Friday?” She whispered, tucking a strand of her golden locks behind her ear.
They must’ve spoken a couple of times before in biology, but Collie can’t remember what. Jenna was conventionally pretty and probably nice, although clearly too forward to be writing him letters.
Before Collie could open his mouth, Barkovitch butted in. “Dude, are you trying to make plans on Smash night? What the fuck.”
“Shut the fuck up, Barko.” He hissed before turning back to Jenna. “But, yeah, I’ve already got plans, sorry.”
She gave him an apologetic smile. “That’s alright. Maybe some other time.”
As they’re walking out of class, Collie notices that Barkovitch is scratching at his neck again, absentmindedly muttering nonsense under his breath.
Collie smacked a hand on his shoulder, only hard enough to get his attention. “Hey. Enough of that.”
Barkovitch blinked hard, like he was waking from a daze. “Sorry,” he murmured, shoving his hand in his pocket.
With his hand gone, Collie could see the angry red marks that stretched from the back of his ear down almost to his collarbone. He had felt a little bad for yelling at him in front of Jenna in class. He knows that Barkovitch gets weird like this when he commits any social faux pas.
Maybe Barkovitch reacted so strongly because he likes Jenna. Collie briefly considered playing wingman for Barkovitch—which was more than he deserved—but the thought made his stomach turn. Gary Barkovitch with a girlfriend? Gary Barkovitch being romantic and kissing and coddling some girl? Collie can’t even imagine it without his core feeling all twisted up. She wouldn’t know the first thing about Barkovitch, not like Collie and the rest of the gang do.
Maybe he should stay out of Barkovitch’s love life. He’s better off not knowing anyway.
______
Collie,
When I first met you, you seemed annoyed all the time and sort of aloof. That’s why I wanted to know you, you weren’t like other guys. But after getting to know you, I learned that it’s not because you’re angry (like me) but because you’re smart and you care. Somehow, you always know what to do and say at the right time.
His secret admirer claims to ‘know him,’ but what she wrote was absolutely not true. He did not ‘always know what to do and say at the right time’. Every other fucking thing out of his mouth is word vomit. He’s accidentally offended some of his friends on normal days, and he can barely handle a conflict without his fists.
Speaking of conflicts. One of the biggest things that’s changed recently, since the letters, is that Barkovitch has been ignoring him. Not only refusing to get into arguments with Collie, but straight-up refusing to acknowledge him in conversations at all. At most, he’ll shrug or nod or grunt in response to whatever Collie is saying.
“Ease up on him, man. He’s probably just jealous or something,” Pete said when Collie brought it up at their weekly jam nights. Which is really just their weekly practice-the-guitar-and-smoke night.
Collie shrugged. He hadn’t thought about that, actually. If he’s jealous of Jenna, maybe he’s jealous of the letters too. But it’s not like the letters are preventing Barkovitch from getting a girlfriend.
“You could also just ask him,” Pete suggested, finishing tuning his guitar.
Collie had to laugh out loud. “Sure, like that’ll work and he won’t just fucking flip out on me.” Most confrontations with Barkovitch end with one or both of them bleeding. All because Barkovitch takes everything so fucking personally. (And occasionally because Collie can’t help his temper.)
“Hey, you’re the one who’s bothered by this, not me.”
______
After Pete left, Collie concluded that a stakeout was his best option.
He could talk to Barkovitch. Or he could solve this mystery and turn down the poor girl, whom he’ll probably have no interest in. Then the issue will be settled, and Barkovitch won’t have an excuse to act so pissy.
Collie waited in the dark until, at three in the morning, a letter slid under the door. Without another thought, he reached for the handle and flung it open to reveal a blur of familiar dirty blond hair already halfway down the hall.
Collie’s shock turned to anger when he raced down after Barkovitch. He caught up quickly and grabbed the back of Barkovitch’s shirt, pinning him to the wall right next to the bulletin board. He pressed his arm across his collar, maybe too harshly.
They stood there with only their heavy breaths to fill the silence, Collie’s body flattening Barkovitch’s onto the wall.
He eased slightly when he saw Barkovitch’s red eyes and his tear-streaked cheeks. “Get the fuck off me!” He struggled against Collie, uselessly pulling at the arm pinning him across his chest.
“Why did you write those letters?” Collie demanded. He could feel Barkovitch’s heartbeat under his forearm, like a scared rabbit. He could hear his own pulse in his throat. “What’s your fucking problem?”
Barkovitch was bright red all the way down his neck. If Collie looked down, he could see underneath his shirt that his blush had made it to his chest.
Before Barkovitch could answer, an RA stepped out from their room in their pajamas. “Hey! Hey! Guys! No fighting!”
Collie stumbled away from Barkovitch, who was still wild-eyed and panting, and stalked back into his room. He couldn’t afford any more demerits.
Especially not because of a stupid fucking prank that Barkovitch pulled. He couldn’t even look Collie in the eye. He couldn’t look Collie in the eye after humiliating him and giving him hope that someone could like him in that way.
His chest tightened. The weight of the situation fell onto him like a ton of bricks. Gary Barkovitch had been writing him love letters for the past month. They were sweet and thoughtful and sincere, three things Collie didn’t even think Barkovitch was capable of being.
Collie felt something crinkle under his foot. Barkovitch’s new letter.
He almost didn’t want to read it. He could just tear it up and pretend like it never existed.
Instead, he opened it with shaking hands.
Collie,
I hope that when you get to know me, you don’t hate me. I get it if you do. I hate myself for liking you so much. I’m sorry if these letters make you uncomfortable. Write back if they do. You can leave your response on the bench near the library this afternoon, and I’ll pick it up. Don’t try to go looking for me, though.
Collie couldn’t bring himself to tear it up or even crumple it, so he folded it and placed it with the rest. He let out a heavy breath that he hadn’t noticed he was holding.
I like you, Collie Parker, the first note had read. I hate myself for liking you so much, Barkovitch wrote in the last letter.
Barkovitch was a lot of things, but never a good liar.
______
“It was Barkovitch,” Collie blurted.
He and Pete were at a coffee shop studying. Well, Pete was making Spotify playlists, and Collie had read the same paragraph over and over again of his philosophy reading before he couldn’t take it anymore.
“What?” Pete’s expression moved from confused to concerned in a split second. “Whoa. That’s not cool, what he did to you.”
“I don’t think he was joking, Pete,” Collie admitted. He rubbed his forehead.
“Oh. Huh.” A sly sort of recognition flickered across Pete’s eyes. “So, what’re you going to do about it?”
“I thought you would know. Bein’ with Garraty and all that.” It’s not like Collie never thought about being with a guy before. But he’s never been confronted with the possibility like this.
His eyes lit up. “You want to be with Barkovitch.”
“I didn’t say that,” Collie backtracked quickly.
“Ha! You and Barkovitch. Oh, my god.” He slapped his hand on the table, causing a couple of pencils to fall onto the ground. “Hey, I call dibs on being your best man at the wedding.”
“Shut the hell up, McVries,” Collie hissed, but with no real bite in it.
“Okay, okay.” Pete wiped away a tear from under his eye while Collie collected his pencils from the ground. “To tell you the truth, I think…if anyone can handle Barko, it’s you, man.”
“Handle him,” Collie repeated.
“Yeah, you know how he gets.” He mimics Barkovitch scratching at his own neck in a manic fervor.
“Yeah. We’re—he’s trying to stop.” Usually, if Collie’s there to remind him, he’ll stop hurting himself because of the dumb stuff he says or does.
“Exactly. Handling him. I mean, listen. If you didn’t want to get with Barkovitch, I don’t think we would be having this conversation in the first place. You would’ve already made up your mind and shut him down, like, immediately. So why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nah, man, I think you do.”
______
Barkovitch hadn’t shown up to lunch in a whole week.
When Friday rolled around, Collie decided that he needed to man the fuck up and clear the air. And he can’t stand the sad eyes that Pete and Garraty are making at him every five minutes like he’s in emotional distress or something.
He knows what he wants. He just doesn’t know what Barkovitch wants. He feels crazy not knowing what Barkovitch wants.
Collie finds Barkovitch’s room, because if he’s not in the dining hall, he’s probably in bed, rotting in his dorm.
He knocks once, then twice, and surprisingly, Barkovitch opens the door.
He looks like shit. Deep bags under his puffy red eyes, like he’d been crying. His normally unkempt hair was now sticking up in odd directions.
After a pause, then a moment of recognition, he makes a move to close the door, but Collie jams it open. He shoves his way into the room, blocking the exit as the door shuts behind him.
“Get the fuck out, Parker.” Barkovitch croaked. Collie knows that he’s trying to look menacing, but it was hard to take him as a serious threat in those stupid Marvel pajama pants of his.
“No. Not until you listen.” Collie had it all planned out in his mind, but now, seeing Barkovitch in front of him, the words escaped him. He palms a piece of paper in his pocket. At least he has plan B.
“Okay,” Barkovitch let out a shaky breath. “If you’re here to tell me to leave you alone, I will. I will! But—but can I still hang out with Garraty and the guys? ‘Cause I’ve never had, like, a crew before, and I know they were your friends first, but—”
Collin grabbed his wrist. Barkovitch had started scratching at the back of his neck, irritating the deep welts that were already there, threatening to break through his skin. “Hey. I’m not asking you to leave me alone. Or—or the guys, for whatever that’s worth. Just. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because…because why the fuck would you want to be with me?”
I hate myself for liking you so much.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Collie’s hand was still gripping Barkovitch’s forearm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough so he couldn’t break free. Collie needs him here; he needs to confront this.
“Well, ‘cause you’re so—agh never mind! This is fucking embarrassing. Get the fuck out so I can die in peace. Alone.”
“No.” He tries to yank his hand away, and Collie’s grip tightens. “Fucking calm down. Just—here.” He presses a note into Barkovitch’s chest with his free hand.
The words flashed through his mind as he let Barkovitch read it.
Gary,
I can’t believe I’m writing this, but you never showed up at the library to pick up my response, so here it is: I don’t hate your letters. And I don’t hate you. I hate that you ignore me and don’t talk to me because of something you made up in your head. I hate that you say that you like watching me perform, but you never even showed up to the goddamn showcase last week. And I hate that because of you, I have to write you a letter with my feelings, which is cringe as shit.
If you want to stop ignoring me, you should meet me this Saturday at Pepe’s for a romantic slice of Hawaiian pizza. (I know what you like too, so there.) But if you want to keep ignoring me, then no pizza for you.
I think I’ve already humiliated myself enough, so I’ll just end this here.
♡
Collie
After a long pause, too long for Collie’s short letter, he had to fill the silence. “Sorry, my handwriting’s pretty bad.”
The letter fell from Barkovitch’s hand and onto the floor. Then, his lips were on Collie’s, his arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Barkovitch’s lips were chapped and the room was stifling, but Collie greedily took more, his hands on his waist and shoulders and neck.
When Collie pulled away, his heart felt like it could beat out of his chest. “So, are you gonna write me more letters?”
“Fuck off, Parker,” Barkovitch panted, his pupils dilated and shining.
Then his lips met Collie’s for the second time that night, rough and knowing.