Little note by the writer: If you’d like, listen to the music from the video I’ve included below the story as you read. I wrote this listening to that song…just thought it would be nice if you read it whilst listening as well.♥
The question wasn’t, did he love me. The question was whether he was willing to love or not. I often wished for him to cross that line of silence, for him to raise his voice to me so I could be remembered he had one. His troubled gaze worried me and sometimes I wondered which promise he had made himself to be in this state of contemplation and constant silence.
Perhaps that’s why he drew my attention when we first met, standing outside in the rain steadily, as if he were waiting for the bus that would never come. Eyes staring right in front of him, lips not moving when I asked him if he needed a place to stay the night. Perhaps I found an accomplice, someone who was as crazy as me to be outside with this kind of weather, someone who understood what if felt like to be trapped inside four walls when the sky outside was crying, begging for company.
I haven’t found the reasons why but who says we need theories and explanations when we just follow our hearts.
His presence struck me, as if he were a statue I had never noticed standing there before. I remember walking up close to him, not sure if my eyes were fooling me, not sure if he was made of stone or flesh. Then I noticed his sudden downcast eyes, perhaps he had felt trapped by my closeness. I realized he wasn’t just a piece of art, he was a living masterpiece.
His slumped shoulders dragged me right down with him. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him here. Minutes later, we sat hunched in a corner of my flat, near the heating and near each other.
The only thing he told me was his name.
The sound of his voice sounded raw, rare. In a way it matched him, this strange man dressed in warm blankets and mystery. I kept repeating his name in my head, wanting to get used to it, wanting to justify just why I had taken him with me. Wanting him to be my friend and overall, wanting him. The feeling scared me but the grace in his face made it impossible for me to think straight.
He was insanely beautiful. Therefore, I temporarily lost my mind when looking at him. All I wanted, was for him to be safe, to not be a stranger anymore.
An hour, maybe two passed by and he had drifted off in a haze of sleep. He breathed heavily and I could almost feel the weight on his shoulders pushing down on mine. I moved in a little closer, reaching out my hand.
That first time I touched his face, I knew I would fall in love.
In a strange way, his skin didn’t feel the way it looked. He was warm porcelain. Scorching fragility. I felt so eager to crawl inside his mind, to understand who he really was.
He must have woken up when I let my flingers slide over his cracked lips. The damaged gates to his speech. I felt ashamed, wanted to hold myself back but his hand soon found mine and guided me even closer. He looked down, a pained expression on his face as he shook his head. I could tell he was battling himself, not wanting me close yet begging me to come near.
“It’s ok,” was all I could say.
I cupped his head in my hands and laced my fingers through his semi-long hair, trying to comb the worry out of his mind. He closed his eyes, leaning in to my touch. I wondered what was behind those shaky eyelashes. I swept my thumbs across them softly.
I’ve never felt a more intimate touch.
He turned his head to the side a little, pressing his lips faintly against the palm of my one hand. I remember my mother’s voice resounding in my head. “Don’t you ever trust any strangers.” But what man this vulnerable could do any harm. What girl this lonely would turn down the innocent presence of another human being.
He put his hand on mine, which was resting against his cheek. Then he sighed, shaking his head again, as he swiftly opened his eyes, looking for mine. I lost the last hints of fear when I caught the agony that was reflected in this one look.
Then I realized, it wasn’t about me trying to figure him out. It was about him trying to understand why I was this kind to him.
☆✿ ☆✿☆✿ ☆✿·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●✿✿.｡.:* ☆:* ✿ *:☆*.:｡.✿✿●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·✿
As you might have noticed, the idea of this little piece grew on me after writing my last post “An old suitcase in one hand.” There’s something about the characters I can’t seem to let go. I feel like there’s so much more to discover and I see their story revolve in my head, like a movie only I can see but want to share with you through putting it down into words.
Please leave me any comment on whether you would like to read more of this particular piece or not. I kind of feel this is more than just a short story. Please be so kind to let me know and comment below. Thank you so much for reading. I love my readers so much.
My loving dedication goes out to @Mariiesen @amieewhitney @xxVergessen @HazelKVL @ElineKeiju @Meandart @Aitenlight @ultrasquid @ronin_geisha @danschaumann @nalesaporta and most of all a special dedication to @Hannawheeler because sweetheart I promised to write you a story and this could just be it. I wanted to write you something special and right now, this story means a lot to me. I miss you!
Love, Froe ♥