They were always similar, yet so different, but that's what made them so obsessed with each other.
Alfred was the rose.
He was the sweet, sweet rose, and he stood brightly, letting the sunlight run over his soft petals, as the wind blew so loudly, but yet failed to knock down the beautiful flower and cover the lovely smell that radiated off of it. With each gentle tap, is another fallen petal, and with each little kiss, it grows in it's heart. However, to most people, it is only a flower, but for those who truly have been through something, romantic or not, it was more than that- but Alfred's content with people not knowing how special he truly was, because that's the way the world was, and he wasn't going to change it.
Then there was Matthew, the prickly thorns.
You don't notice them at first, but once you decide to pluck the flower- prick! He was there to protect him, to keep him in the clay pot they called their world, that only held each other. He was sharp, and violent, but if you leave it alone, it is only adding another pleasing sight for your eyes, as when the petals fall and go, it stays in bitter rebellion, a type of strength that was so light yet forceful. He's alright with people forgetting he's there- but he wants them to know exactly how mean he can be, when they stand there in shock with blood trickling down their finger, as they huff and leave his precious flower alone.
This is the story of two people, two friends who look alike, two friends who feel alike, and finally, two lovers. Holding hands through it all, through the snowy drops and scented candles, through the red and yellow leaves falling on their knitted scarves, through the dew-covered grass and pink tulips, and through the sand falling through their toes, and the popsicles melting on their fingers.
Do you feel safe enough to hear their story?
"ALL I AM, IS A MAN"
Matthew recites the song in his head, one he remembers listening to with his ex, as they sipped at their hot cocoa, cuddling into each other for warmth, and the day was so cozy and wonderful until that text message-
No.
Forget about her, she's not special. She never was, and if she thought she could hurt him just by cheating, she was wrong. He angrily stuffs his donut- with the paper bag, thank god- into his inner pocket, continuing to walk down the streets, the crunching of snow underneath his boots was so similar to the sound of his heart breaking, a big heart but tiny pieces that will never be placed back together, because they were so lost across his body, hidden in his mind, and in his sleeve.
And all of the sudden, he sees him, he's just a stranger, but something pulls him towards the other, a blonde about his height, gazing off into the distance, fingers tapping to a nonexistant tune, as his lips quiver, and eyes watery, but no tears come out.
He's in his wonderland.
But he'd like to join his wonderland, too.
And so, he takes a seat next to him on the bench.
He's not sure if it's because of an attraction, or instead the loneliness inside his heart.
"I WANT THE WORLD, IN MY HANDS"
Alfred notices the stranger immediately, snapping out of his dream, that was dripping with honey sweetness, and the sugar-coated words that the people in his dream told him, unlike the harsh knives he usually got on a daily basis.
"Hello." His voice was so soft, and gentle, and the words are lavenders in their glory, in a group like friends as they sit among the others, the old tree, with branches hanging in a graceful position, the sunflowers with petals vibrant, the blackberries that Alfred loves to pick, but hate because he could never reach the juicy ones without the help of his big brother, and finally- the roses.
"Hi!" Alfred responded. And for the second his eyes blinked, he was drowned in his fantasy again, words and images flooding over him, the water suffocating and heavy that he could not even lift his hand up above the sea, but he knows deep down he doesn't want to, despite the pain, because he'd rather stay in his self-pity and self-loathe, instead of reaching for help.
"Are you alright? Sorry, I sort of noticed you were crying, and wanted to help." He's only lying about a quarter of it, he came because of the desperation for company, and the string that dragged him towards the stranger, but the curious cat in his mind that needed to know everything and anything also came out of it's bubble.
And for a long time in a while, Alfred stops crying and smiles a bit.
"Thank you for worrying, but I'm okay. Pfft, I'm always okay," that's what they all think, he added in a sarcastic tone inside his head, but kept his hollywood smile up. It wasn't a fake smile either, it was cheerful, unlike his empty ones he passed so often nowadays, like his sticky-note heart that you doodle on, and pass around, until someone throws it away.
Matthew takes his backpack off, but takes in every word the lighter blonde says, because it makes him feel less lonely, this is the few times someone actually talks to him, and doesn't ignore him, "Good, I mean, that's great- AGH! Sorry, I'm not too good around people." He laughs awkwardly, but laughs even harder when he realizes the other's giggling with him.
"You and me both, buddy. I'm Alfred, you?"
"Matthew."
"Great! Now that we know each other, I don't have to call you 'stranger' in my head. I always think ahead of conversations as a habit, and for the past few seconds I was just imagining a creepy dude with a mask talk back to me. Matthew. Mattie. Yeah, Mattie sounds nice. Hope you don't mind the new nickname." Alfred laughs, but he hides the smile behind a pale hand.
Why would you hide such a pretty thing?
They talk more and more, and Matthew is chuckling and grinning through the whole thing. He finally found somebody who understood him, and someone who he could understand.
For once, he doesn't feel overwhelmed.