Willow has two diaries. The first is one she keeps in her night table drawer. It has a simple, pretty floral pattern on the front and the pages are light purple. She bought a pen to match the journal at the bookstore, proud of how well the two coordinated. Here she records the stuff that happens at school, the things Xander says to her that either please or upset her and all the everyday thoughts she has. It probably isn't very interesting, but then, neither is her life.
Or it used not to be until the first day of school this year. As soon as the day had ended, Willow walked to the grocery store instead of straight home and bought a plain marble notebook. She told Xander she needed it for English class, in case she needed two notebooks to keep track of all the things they would be reading. What Willow really needed was a journal she could shove under her mattress and hide from everyone else. Her life had suddenly become interesting in a way she did not want anyone else to know about.
In the marble notebook, by the concentrated brightness of a flashlight, in blue Bic pen, with handwriting so small only she could read it, Willow writes about the most beautiful smile and brightest green eyes she's ever seen. She writes about smooth skin and wind-blown blond hair, the sound of a laugh echoing through the library and the warmth of a hand on hers.
Her hand shakes when she writes about a different kind of warmth. The strange, fluttering warmth in the pit of her stomach when Buffy's legs brush against hers as they stand by the lockers. The unfamiliar warmth that curls inside her when Buffy puts an arm around her shoulders and she can smell vanilla perfume. The delicious warmth that makes her fingertips tingle when she places a hand on Buffy's knee or slides her own arm around Buffy's waist. When the wishes, hopes and desires make her hand too unsteady to write, Willow shoves the notebook as far as she can under her mattress. Lying back down on her bed, she closes her eyes and lets the tingling spread from her fingertips all over her body.
It isn't fear or shame or guilt that keeps the notebook under her mattress. The moments when Willow is so close to Buffy that she can feel the warmth of her skin are special. They're special enough that Willow doesn't want to share them; she already shares Buffy with everyone and everything else. Someday there would be something so interesting and so special between her and Buffy that she would want to tell everyone and wouldn't need the notebook. Until then, however, Willow would keep two diaries and only one of them holds her hope.
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