We met senior year of high school. He was the popular jock with varsity letters and I was the girl you’d pass in the halls and not even notice; until one day, he noticed me. I like to believe that he saw me and instantly fell for me, but ultimately it was by chance that there was only one seat left in the back, adjacent to mine. That’s when it happened. He was so invested in watching film from the previous week's game that he had completely missed his chance to claim the ideal partner, leaving him with me. He approached, “Marnie, right?” he said, as if we hadn’t gone through the past thirteen years of school together. Once we both realized how desperate for partners we were and after several minutes of awkward small talk passed, the conversation flowed naturally. “You know, I don't remember you being this funny” he said. Those nine simple words would be the nine words that led me to fall madly in love with the one and only Brendan Moppert.
After he had made me his brown eyed girl, it was hard to go unnoticed in the halls. It was weird at first, going from a no one to the girlfriend of the schools superstar athlete. Our relationship shocked a lot of people, to say the least. Some people didn’t understand what he was doing dating a girl like "me". People knew Brendan for being this super tough, invincible athlete. I didn’t know that Brendan though. I knew the Brendan that cried at The Fault in Our Star’s when Augustus died. I knew the Brendan that never wanted to disappoint people; his parents, teammates, teachers, himself, or me. He never expressed much feelings to others, he never wanted to show weakness, instead he held it all in. But I could see right through the facade.
We had only been dating for about two months when I saw him at such a low point. It was right after the championship basketball game, his last basketball game ever. The team lost by three points. Brendan would always assume it was his fault. As captain he thought that he had to carry the team and any mistakes in a game were because of him. He walked off the court with a sense of pride regardless of the tough loss. He kept that fake smile on his face for the sake of his teammates, but I knew that he was dying on the inside. We hadn’t said the words “I love you” yet, but I already knew I loved him. When he got into the car, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think it would be the best time to kiss, or hug, or say the first “I love you”, so I grabbed his hand. We always held hands, but this time it was different. I didn’t care how sweaty or callused his hand was from the game; my hand fit perfectly inside of his and without any words, he knew that I loved him and I knew that he loved me.            
Four years later, after graduating from Boston College together, we were ready for the next step of our lives. We were pronounced Mr. and Mrs. Brendan Moppert for the first time on a beautiful, bright Saturday afternoon. I felt like I was living in a fairytale, he was my prince and everything was perfect. Then it all fell apart in front of my eyes. The fighting began. Brendan never dared to ever touch me in any way other than loving, but everything was so different. When we held hands, I felt like there was space between our palms, something wasn’t right. We thought that maybe doing some things on our own would be a good idea; maybe that space would help mend our broken marriage. I tried to take up painting, but failed miserably. Brendan took up boxing. For the first time in a very long time, I saw him happy again. He started spending more and more time at the training gym. Mentally and physically he was changing. He was more muscular than I could ever remember him being, even during high school as a four sport athlete. He was more aggressive and angry. It was hard supporting him because I couldn’t stand to watch him change. He spent months training for a match against the top fighter in the Boston area. Brendan was more determined than ever to take over that title. I knew how much this match meant to him and at that point, I was trying to do whatever I could to hold onto our marriage. I still loved Brendan, he wasn’t the same man that I fell in love with over nine words, but I was prepared to be by his side and support him through this very important match.
He gave me a quick kiss before he stepped into the ring. As if that peck on the lips still even meant anything. He was losing the match, but I could see this anger inside of him. He was covered in blood and bruises, but his determination was more visible than anything else. He was losing his breath with every swing. He looked away for less than a second to try to catch his breath, but it was a second too long. He never even saw the swing. He fell to the ground. I instantly knew that something was wrong. I was calling out his name, but there was no sort of response. I unwrapped his gloves and in that moment, when I touched his hands, I was back inside of his car senior year of high school. Under the sweat and calluses, I could still feel the undying love we had for each other. Without any words, he knew I loved him and I knew he loved me.