#or maybe even omarsim

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

confessions and constellations [1/3]

Summary: AJ finds a crumpled up piece of paper with a poem on it. Not understanding what it means, he shows it to Clem. It seems that the two of them have a mystery on their hands. They know who wrote it, but... who is the poem about?

Preview: He’s going to confess. It’s all planned out.

Step one: Write down ALL his feelings in the form of a beautiful and breathtaking poem [because poetry is easy and romantic, right?].

Step Two: Send a letter asking to meet him on the roof late one night [preferably when the moon is bright and the air isn’t too cold].

Step Three: Read his poem out loud in the moonlight [without puking, please] thereby confessing his love. 

Step Four: ??? Rejection?? Possible death?? Probably?

Not a plan without flaw, of course, but what else is he supposed to do? 

Warnings: Aasim’s an awkward boy in love who can only express himself in bad poetry. Clem doesn’t realize what she’s gotten herself into. Mitch eats moldy beef jerky. 

Author’s Note: My life’s been a hot mess for the past few weeks, but I got some free time and this idea in my head while working on chapter five of [when he smiled] so here it is. Also, I’m not awesome at poetry, so neither is Aasim. That one’s on me. I did a little outlining [gasp, right?] and have concluded that instead of making this one enormous fic, I’ll split it into three parts. So, here’s this little thing because I love my awkward boy Aasim and he needs for fics centered around him.

Part I | Part II  | Part III

---

I couldn’t sleep last night every time I closed my eyes your smile  it  

Aasim chews on the worn eraser of his pencil.

it

He rereads it, again and again, wracking his brains for the proper words.

Beside him, Mitch munches noisily on a piece of old jerky he found in the basement while Omar watches in disgust.

“Dude, c’mon.” 

“What?” Mitch gulps before knawing on the jerky again. 

Aasim rubs at his tired eyes and rests his chin in his palm. He watches, absolutely disgusted, as Mitch tries to chew through the toughness of the dried out meat. 

Mitch eyes him, offering him the jerky with a quirked brow. Aasim shakes his head and taps his pencil against the notebook. 

“What rhymes with eyes?” he asks. 

From across the table, Omar quirks a brow. “Eyes?”

“Dies,” says Mitch. “Cries. Fries.”

“Skies?” Omar offers. 

“Pies. Dries. Lies.” Mitch continues. “Guys. Spies. Ties. Tries. Flies. Ssss...smies?”

“Not a word,” frowns Omar. 

“Yies. Quies. Zies.”

“None of those are words.”

Aasim sighs. 

I couldn’t sleep last night every time I closed my eyes your laugh it

“Nevermind,” Aasim mumbles. He tries again.

Mitch takes another bite of jerky.

Omar says, “That thing’s probably gonna kill you.” 

“Probably,” Mitch replies. “Want some?”

thunder, that’s what you are you 

“Seriously?” Omar scoffs.

“Tastes better than rabbit stew.”

“Oh, you can just fuck right off with that.”

Willy laughs.

you send vibrations  through the earth with your laugh alone

Mitch shrugs. He pulls his knife out and cuts a chunk off for Willy, who happily shoves the whole thing in his mouth. 

“Don’t give him that!” Omar scolds. 

Willy’s face twists into something uncomfortable. “It’s hard,” he complains.

“Chew it.”

“It hurts to chew.”

“Then, suck on it.”

“Ew- oh god!” Omar reaches over and snatches the remaining jerky away. Mitch nearly flings himself across the table to take it back. This causes Aasim’s pencil to dig across the paper, tearing it. 

“What the fuck!? Give it back!”

Omar points at something gray and fuzzy on the side. “That’s mold! You’re gonna get sick!”

Willy spits the jerky out onto the table. 

“Jerky doesn’t get moldy, dumbass!”

“Then what’s this!?”

thunder, that’s what you are you send vibrations  through the earth with your laugh alone 

Aasim glares at the two of them.  “Hey, can you two, like, stop?” He tears the page from his book and crumples it up. 

Mitch steals his jerky back, pointedly taking another bite with obnoxious chewing noises. He then starts pulling the gray stuff off the remaining jerky. 

Omar, exasperated, gives up. “Sorry, just trying to keep Mitch alive, but you know, what can you do?”

“Fuck off,” Mitch grumbles, “s’not even mold. Just a dust bunny.”

“Oh, right, ‘cause that’s healthy.”

Willy picks up the soggy piece he spat out and sticks it back in his mouth. 

“Willy!”

“What?”

They continue to bicker back and forth about the questionable meat. With a heavy sigh, Aasim does his best to tune them out. He turns away from them and lays his head against his arm. 

The blank page was refreshing, he thought. The previously ruined page had become nothing but scribbled out words and poorly doodled hearts anyway. 

What a loser. 

There’s laughter from the other table. Aasim peeks over. 

Marlon, Brody, Violet, Ruby, Louis, and Clementine sat together, grinning and giggling about something. 

He quickly turns back to his paper. He bit at his lip and picks his pencil back up. 

Right.

The whole reason he was writing this. 

It’s not that he forgot or anything, it’s just been... difficult. 

Lately, he’d been having some interesting thoughts. 

Interesting feelings.

He couldn’t talk about it. He didn’t have anyone to talk to about it in the first place, and anything he did say in the privacy of his room was incoherent and jumbled. Only on paper could he even begin to process these feelings. 

The more and more he wrote, the more poems he ripped apart, the more he came to understand these feelings. And he knew one thing: He needs to do something about them. As nice as it is to do nothing and let those feelings eat away at his insides, he knows he can’t live like that anymore. He doesn’t want to pretend everything’s okay, that he isn’t...

...that he isn’t in love. 

Fuck. 

In love.

He didn’t know how else to put it. 

He’s in like-like?

He’s got a bad case of ‘super-intense-crushitis’. 

God, that’s stupid. 

Aasim is in love and it’s slowly killing him. 

So, he’s devised a plan. Nothing too brilliant. 

He’s going to confess. It’s all planned out.

Step one: Write down ALL his feelings in the form of a beautiful and breathtaking poem [because poetry is easy and romantic, right?].

Step Two: Send a letter asking to meet him on the roof late one night [preferably when the moon is bright and the air isn’t too cold].

Step Three: Read his poem out loud in the moonlight [without puking, please] thereby confessing his love. 

Step Four: ??? Rejection?? Possible death?? Probably?

Not a plan without flaw, of course, but what else is he supposed to do? 

It shouldn’t be this hard. Writing a poem that’s both interesting and gets his point across shouldn’t be this hard. Fuck, confessing shouldn’t be this hard. He wishes he could just blurt it out without a thought, without a worry but...

There’s more laughter from the table. He watches as they all stand, still talking and joking with each other before parting ways.

He gathers his notebook and gets up from the table. He doesn’t bother excusing himself. He moves over to the desk he usually writes at and gets comfortable. 

He takes a deep breath to calm his heavily beating heart and closes his eyes.

It’s not that hard. I can’t be. All he’s done since the world went to shit is write. He digs deep into himself, thinking back to every look, every smile, every rapid heartbeat.

Back to every dream he’s had of them sitting together, watching the stars and sharing a first kiss- God, a first kiss- and holding hands and pretending, even for a moment, that nothing else exists except for the two of them. 

He exhales shakily. 

Within seconds, he’s writing again. 

---

“What do you think?” Tenn holds up his freshly colored picture. 

AJ studies it carefully, taking in all the little details. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and full of teeth. “That looks awesome!”

Tenn grins appreciatively.

AJ works quickly on his drawing, shading in the trees with three different types of greens to make it look more read; a trick Tenn had taught him. He doesn’t know how long they sat together, coloring and lightly chatting. Eventually, Tenn starts picking up all his colors and tucking them back in the purple case neatly.

“You’re not done, are you?” AJ asks.. 

Tenn nods. “Yeah, I-I’m kind of tired.”

“Oh,” AJ frowns, the disappointment clear on his face. 

“We can color again tomorrow,” Tenn offers, “o-or we can play something else?”

“Okay,” says AJ. He helps Tenn put away the rest of his colors and waves goodbye to his friend.  Alone on the bend, AJ takes in his surroundings. He finds Clem standing by the fire with Louis. The two are deep in conversation. 

Just as AJ’s about to go join them, he hears a sharp curse. 

Aasim’s sitting in his desk with a sullen face. AJ pauses, watching him carefully. He’s firmly holding a piece of paper and his lips are moving quickly. AJ doesn’t think anything of it until Aasim shakes his head and crumples up the paper.

“No, that’s-” AJ hears him murmur. He sighs. “-that’s... stupid.”

He sits back in his desk with his legs stretching out and his hands rubbing at his face. 

When AJ approaches him, he’s cautious. Aasim doesn’t notice him. 

“Um...?” AJ tries to think of something to say, but before he can get anything out, Aasim slams his book shut and jumps up from the desk, book in hand, and storms off. He doesn’t even bother to pick up the wad of paper as it falls to the dirt.

He’s mad, but why? AJ thinks to himself. 

He reaches down and unfolds the paper. 

“Woah...” 

There’s a lot of words. 

Like, a lot. 

Most of them are crossed out, but there’s one bundle of text that’s left untouched.

“A...th... thhh.... ah-uh-sand stor-stories....” he sounds out. He continues to try and read the words, but none of it makes any sense. Some words are easy, like ‘us’ and ‘safe,’ but most are tricky. 

AJ peers around before pocketing the note. 

He approaches Clem and Louis at the same time as Marlon. 

“Clem, you’re on watch now,” he says. 

“Ah, night watch,” Louis dramatically yawns, “lucky you. I’ll think of you out here in the cold while I’m tucked in my nice, warm bed.” 

Clem rolls her eyes, a smile betraying on her lips as she elbows him. “If I recall, you have the early morning watch, hm?”

“What?” Louis gasps. “Since when?”

“Since you missed watch yesterday,” frowns Marlon.

“Dude, not a morning person, remember?” Louis complains.

“Yeah, I remember,” Marlon shakes his head. “That’s why I’ll be there to personally drag your ass outta bed and up that ladder.”

“Duuuuuude,” Louis whines.

“Guess you shoulda taken your turn on watch yesterday, huh?”

“Uuuggggh.”

“Don’t worry,” Clem smirks, placing a hand on his arm. “You’ll be in our thoughts while we’re eating our delicious breakfast.” She lingers before walking off. 

Louis opens his mouth to say something but closes it when he sees the grin on Marlon’s face. AJ doesn’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation. 

“Clem!” AJ runs after her. 

“Hey, goofball,” she smiles. AJ ignores the nickname. He tugs at her sleeve. “I’m on watch with you, right?”

“I guess so? Marlon didn’t say-”

“Awesome!” He grabs her arm. “Marlon! I’m going on watch with Clem!” he calls back. Marlon waves a hand in acknowledgment. AJ forcefully pulls her to their post. 

“Woah, AJ! Slow down!”

They climb the ladder and look over their surroundings. 

Clem brushes a leaf off her jacket, asking, “What’re you in such a hurry for?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

“Okay?” Clem crosses her arms. “What is it?”

Before he answers, AJ pulls out the binoculars they keep hanging there and does a quick survey of the area. He spots a few walkers wandering aimlessly through the trees. Nothing too threatening. 

“I found something,” he says. 

Clem tenses, moving closer and eyeing the area. “Where?”

AJ lowers the binoculars. “No, I mean, I found this.” He hands them up and digs around in his pocket. He pulls the crumpled up paper and hands it to her. 

“A paper?”

“Yeah, but I don’t really get it,” he admits. “I can’t understand some of the words.”

Her curiosity peaked, Clem straightens out the paper. She assumes he’s referring to the block of handwritten text that isn’t scribbled out. 

“Can you read it to me?” he asks. 

“I guess.”

Out loud, she reads.

a thousand stories  I could write  about us in the night sky starting with your fingers wrapped around mine  and your laugh tickling my ear and warming my skin

Clem’s voice moves to a murmur as she glances over the rest of the text with widening eyes. 

“I can’t hear you,” complains AJ.

She stops, clears her throat, and backtracks. 

in this universe where death lurks in the darkness like the moonlight you scare away shadows and for once I feel safe

I trace your freckles like constellations  in an inky sky connecting to your  beautiful smile and I want  nothing more than for our  lips to meet

even if the stars shower all around us it couldn’t compare  to your laugh to your smile to your touch or to the way you make me feel

all I think about is the sun rising and our story  continuing in the clouds so that one day you and I  together can live in the sky

When she finishes, the words hanging heavy in the air, they remain silent. Clem studies AJ’s face. It’s the same face me makes when he’s trying to sound out and understand a difficult word.

“I... don’t get it,” he sighs, “what does it mean?”

“Well,” she rereads some of the verses, “it sounds like it’s a love poem.” 

“What’s a poem?”

“It’s like a song, I guess? Just without music.”

“Oh,” AJ takes the paper back and looks it over. So, Aasim was writing a love poem-song thing? And he’s mad about it... why? He didn’t feel mad while Clem was reading it to him. In fact, he actually kind of liked it. 

“I like it,” he says.

“Me, too, actually...” Clem smiles. Then, she turns to him and asks, “Where’d you get this?”

“Oh, um...” AJ pulls the binoculars out again. “I found it by the stairs,” he replies. “Aasim dropped it.”

“Aasim dropped-” Clem’s eyes shot open wide. “This is Aasim’s?”

“I saw him writing it,” AJ admits. 

“You took this from Aasim?”

“No, I didn’t take it- I mean, he threw it away and I just grabbed it,” AJ explains. “He looked really mad while he was writing it and I just wanted to know why, but I couldn’t read it.” 

“AJ, this-” Clem suddenly felt guilt pooling in her stomach. Clearly, this wasn’t meant for her to read, much less AJ, and who knows what Aasim would say if he found out they read it. “You really need to give this back.”

“Why? He threw it away.”

“Doesn’t matter. This is really personal.”

“What do you mean?”

“By reading this we invaded his privacy. I don’t think he wants anyone to read this,” she sighs. “Remember when we first met him? And he was writing in his book?”

“Yeah?”

“And you took his book, without asking, and read it out loud?”

“Yeah...”

“He wasn’t happy about that, was he?”

“No...”

“And he was grateful that you have it back, right?”

AJ thought about this while chewing on his lip. “But... you said this is a love song, right?”

“Poem,” she corrects. “That-”

“So, he really likes someone,” a smile spreads across AJ’s face, “maybe we could help him?”

Clem frowns. “No-”

“Who do you think it is?”

Clem sighs, growing more frustrated. “I don’t know, it doesn’t say.”

“Maybe it’s you,” AJ points out with a giggle.

Clem feels heat rise to her cheeks. She crosses her arms. “It’s not me,” she says firmly. 

“How do you know?”

“I don’t have freckles.”

“Huh?”

Clem holds the paper up. “’I trace your freckles like constellations in an inky sky,’” she reads, pointing at her face, “it can’t be me because I don’t have freckles.”

“Oh,” AJ says. “But, what are freckles?”

An image of Louis’ grinning face flashes in her mind. “They’re little birthmarks,” she replies. “Like, little dots.”

AJ comes closer to her, standing on his tiptoes and studying her face. He then puffs out his cheeks. “Damn,” he curses. “No freckles.”

“No freckles.”

“Shit,” AJ pouts. “Maybe I could ask him-”

“No,” Clem snaps, “absolutely not.” 

“Why?” AJ whines. “I wanna know who Aasim likes.”

“I’m sure you do, but-”

“Aren’t you curious?” he interrupts.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I can just waltz up to him and ask,” she explains. “We're not even supposed to have this.”

“Maybe we could figure it out who it is?” 

“AJ-”

“Then, we can show them the poem-”

“No-!”

“-and then they’ll get a crush on Aasim and they’ll be together!” AJ grins from ear to ear. 

“Okay, that’s not how that works, kiddo.” Clem shakes her head. Sometimes, she wishes her thinking could be as simple and optimistic as AJ’s. 

AJ grabs her hand, staring up at her. “C’mon, Clem,” he begs, “when I tried to talk to him, he... he didn’t just look mad. I think he was sad, too. He’s our friend, so we should help him. I know that maybe I shouldn’t have taken it, but I did, and now I wanna help.”

Clem sighs. “And if this person doesn’t like Aasim back?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” AJ asks. “I like Aasim.”

“I mean in a ‘kissing’ way,” Clem clarifies. “Just because Aasim likes someone doesn’t mean they’ll like him back. “

“We won’t know unless we figure it out.”

“You’re really set on this, aren’t you?”

AJ grins. “Yep!”

It’s a bad idea. Terrible, even. If Aasim found out about this, he’d probably never speak to them again. 

Or worse.

But... she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. 

Against her every better judgment, she says, “Okay, but we do this my way.”

AJ hops up and down, excited. “Yes! Yes!”

“First off, we can never tell Aasim. Ever.”

“Okay! Promise!”

“Second, I keep the poem. We can’t show it to anyone.”

"Not even if we figure out who it is?”

“Especially if we figure it out.”

AJ looked at the ground, crossing his arms and thinking out loud, “So... how are we gonna figure it out?”

“Well, we have one clue, remember?”

“The freckles?”

Clem nods.

“So, we just need to find the people with freckles?”

“And we’ll go from there,” she agrees. 

They would start tomorrow when everyone’s eating breakfast. Clem stuffs the paper in her pocket, wondering quietly to herself if this was a good thing they were doing, or a disaster waiting to happen.

---