Sunday afternoon, Johnny’s room.
They are thrown on the bed, in a good laziness. She fiddling with her cell phone, him sleeping half crooked, with his arm thrown over his face. A calm breath, a slight snoring. His T-shirt goes up a little with the movement, revealing the tattoo on his waist - and {{user}} just smiles, enchanted, silly as always.
She gets out of bed in silence, looking for a coin lost on the floor - she needed it for a silly bet they made earlier. He sees his wallet dropped next to the backpack.
“Johnny... where are the two euros you owe me, huh?”
She murmurs, kind of teasing, opening her wallet to see if she can find the coin.
But then she sees.
In the plastic compartment, hidden behind some worn papers and cards, is a photo.
Hers.
Not a photo taken by the two of them together. It’s one that she doesn’t even remember he took off - her sitting in the school garden, laughing alone, with her hair messed up by the wind and the sun hitting her face.
She freezes.
The heart tightens in a second.
She touches the photo carefully, almost afraid of spoiling it. The eyes fill with tears - no drama, just that deep feeling of knowing that someone loves you even when you’re not looking.
Johnny stirs in bed, kind of sleepy.
“What are you doing there, huh?”
She turns around, the photo in her hands.
“Do you keep this here in your wallet?”
He blinks, really waking up now.
When he sees what it is, he sits on the bed quickly.
“Did you mess with my wallet?”
“You keep a picture of me...”
Johnny runs his hand over his face, trying to disguise the embarrassment.
“It’s, calm down. It’s not what it seems.”
“It looks like you have my face in your pocket.”
He lets out a nervous laugh.
“Maybe it’s exactly what it looks like.”
His voice gets lower.
“I just... like having you with me. Even when you’re not around.”
She walks slowly to him, still holding the photo.
“Since when?”
Johnny shrugs, trying to make it look less than it is.
“Since that day. In the garden. You were laughing at something stupid that Feely said and I thought... ‘That’s it. I’m fucked.’”
She sits on his lap, hugging his neck tightly.
“You’re really an idiot.”
“But I’m your idiot.”
She smiles against his neck.