That Boy

by: davh

That boy.

Yes him.

He looks awfully familiar don't you think?

I remember now. He's always there. Standing there. With dark suit jacket pulled across his chest, tightly. Mysterious don't you agree?

The sweeping brown hair, messy, upon his head begging to be touched. To be pushed away from those startling blue eyes.

Such a cobalt blue, the colour of a stormy sea. Sparkling as if always laughing at some joke. But no, that's not possible. His expression is always too serious for that. His mouth always crinkled into a frown, as if deep in thought. His forehead, though smooth, is smeared by faint grooves as he stands there. Just simply standing there with his back pressed towards the wall. As if waiting. Waiting for who? For what?

Back to his eyes. They are what captivates me, after all. Those eyes which seem to flitter on their own accord, like the butterfly that glides across the meadow, escaping from the paws of the young tawny kitten.

And yet, when they stare into your eyes, they entrap you there. You can't, no matter how hard you try, pull yourself away from them.

They say eyes are the windows to the soul, but when he looks at you with those eyes…

Such understanding, and yet at the same time, such lack of emotion. It's as if you're falling. Falling with no soft landing at the end. Only an endless feeling of weightlessness.

Why does his eyes call out to me?

Why does his hair make my fingers twitch? Moving on their own accord before I'm consciously aware of what they are doing, to brush the stray strand of hair from his face. From his eyes. Again, his eyes. Why do they haunt me so?

He is gone now. I didn't touch his hair. He didn't even look at me today. He usually does you know? Tries to devour my soul with those unsympathetic eyes.

I wonder what he wants.

He is there again today.

I saw him walk off with this petite blonde man just last week. There was an intimacy in their actions. Not as lovers, at least I hope not, but more like people who have known each other long before the creation of the world. Yet, how I wish to be that man.

They were holding hands. As if he needed the condolence. As if the weight of the world that he bears was beginning to tear at him, and he was starting to fray at the edges. But it seemed too cliché. Nobody really bears the entire world on their shoulders.

But he does seem troubled again today. As if debating with himself. Some life shattering decision that needs to be made. And the ticking of the clock is catching up.

He fascinates me. That boy.

The confidence his stance exudes contradicts his eyes.

Those beautiful eyes I told you about last time. Such loveliness does not deserve to reflect inner turmoil. If only he would let me touch his hair. Push the silken strands away, and in doing so soothing his problems.

He lifts his eyes and catches my gaze.

And again I'm cornered. Trapped by the piercing eyes that have sent a glare to bear down upon me. I'm frozen. All thoughts seem to have fled from my mind. Except that beauty should never shine with unshed tears.

Why is he crying?

I've fallen in love with him you know. And pathetically, I don't even know his name.

Though if I had to given him a name, it would be something pure. Precious. Angelic.

Like Rafael.

Healed by God. That's what it means. Only he's still hurt.

Maybe not Rafael then.

Maybe… Hiro? An Asian name to suit his Asian background. But I'm only guessing. But he can't be totally; his blue eyes give him away.

God didn't heal him, but he is more likely, to have been touched by an angel.

Blessed. But still wounded.

Like a fallen angel who somehow somewhere lost his ability to fly, and fell. Shattering like a delicate glass ornament. Maybe not. He seems stronger than glass. More like elastic. With the ability to bounce back. But elastic seems so objectified, and he is real, someone with feelings. With pain.

He could very much be a hero. To suit the name Hiro. A perfect hero, just like a perfect soldier. Shaped by the world to save it. Yet, who will save him, then?

He walked away from me last time. After looking at me. He just gave me a pleading look, and turned. As he walked down the then empty street, he didn't look back. Not even once.

I wonder what he was pleading for. Its almost like I can help him. But I can't. I don't now anything about him.

Please let me help him though. I can't stand the thought of an angel in pain. And that's what he is. My own fallen angel.

Some people have guardian angels. I have my own fallen angel. But I'm not fit to look after him. After all, I can't even look after myself. I can't even keep myself together sometimes. How then can I help in keeping him together?

I didn't ask for him. He came to me. Like an apparition that appeared outside the garage, where I work as a mechanic. He is there every afternoon, just as the sun is setting. Standing against the walls of the big company building down the road.

It's been a month already. Since the first time our eyes locked.

Yet his expression never changes. The pain doesn't seem to diminish.

Maybe they lied when they say time heals everything.

Though the eyes are fading in their glimmer. They no longer sparkled as if constantly laughing. They are now deadened. Nobody really deserves that. To no longer wish to continue living. There is always something in life worth living for. At least there is now for me, ever since he arrived.

I'm being selfish though.

I'm not telling you the whole truth. And I guess you deserve it. After all, you've been with me for a while now.

I'll let you in to my secret. I need to keep seeing him. I can't let him drown further into that deep darkness where there is no escaping from. I know he will reach there. I've been there myself. But you see I need all this not just for him, but also for me.

It's really quite confusing isn't it? I'll try harder.

I need him to keep myself grounded. His presence was what brought me out of that darkness. I was lost, wandering the world. I didn't belong anywhere, until he came along. Now do you see? He's that bouncing buoy in the middle of an endless chaotic ocean that I'm living in. And, it's terribly hard to keep floating without any help. I need that buoy to help me. If the buoy goes under though, then I will surely be swallowed by the water. It's not merciful like that.

I need him to keep me locked in reality.

Please, dear boy, tell me what's bothering you. Let me in.

I am again standing outside shop studying him. I never tire of doing so. You'd think I'd have memorised every detail in him, and maybe I have. But I need to keep looking at him. At his features.

They grow old. Not with age, but rather with weight. Weight of something pressing down upon him. And he is using all the energy that is usually spent on keeping oneself young on holding that weight.

He is strong though. I would've collapsed long ago if I were him.

I keep a mask on at work. I smile, I laugh, and I joke with the boss. Nobody realises that it's all an act. Why would they? They are all too busy maintaining their own characters. But not him. He's too real to be just another actor on the world's stage.

He suddenly looked at me. With those cobalt eyes that I'm now so familiar with. But this is the first time they seem to speak to me. They tell me that I should not concern myself with his matters. No, not concern. Burden.

He then opens his mouth. Those full blood red lips move. The red lips I've dreamt of kissing when in my empty dark apartment. Speaking two words, and I hang for their release.

"I'm jaded."

Pause. His voice is sweet. Deep and musical. Smooth, grown, no longer a boy's.

His eyes then continue its minstrel as if the voice finds too much pain in what it has revealed.

The eyes seem to plead, 'Don't try to save me. I'm beyond that.'

Strange how they plead. You don't usually plead to escape salvation.

Jaded: world weary, tired, worn out, fed up. Take your pick.

Jade is a precious gemstone. It is tough. I bet you weren't aware of this. But it's true. Again I looked it up. Remarkable what one can find on google nowadays.

But yes, jade is tough. It is stronger than steel. Ironic isn't it? His choice of the word jaded. With steel, one thinks of the saying 'nerves like steel' and that makes it incredible. But jade is stronger than steel.

I wonder why he spoke to me that day. I seem to take to analysing him. Breaking each of his actions down almost into numbers. As if he is a mathematical problem I can solve if only I could find that equation.

He would be a circle. Symmetrical.

No. That's not right. Circles geometrically are too simple. No, he'd be a 3D shape. A dome. Someone once told me dome represents perfection. Total perfection. Beauty. But they are complex too. They are in fact one of the most difficult things to build in architecture.

Yes. He would be a dome, if I could transform him into mathematics.

But people aren't as simple as a mathematical question. There are many more variables. Cases. And changes. People are always changing.

He does that too. Change I mean. Subtle though, that most of the time you wouldn't really notice. But I do. He fascinates me like that.

I wonder if I'm a mathematical problem to him.

I wonder…

I didn't see it coming. Oh no. I didn't. But I should've expected it.

What with the fallen angel thing.

He is an angel you know.

But now, he's gone. I'd like to think he's back up in heaven. Where he belongs. With all the other pure white angels.

I guess, even fallen angels heal.

He is after all, my Rafael. My Hero.

I hope you're happy. Wherever you are.

I hope you are saved.

I hope I helped you. In someway. No matter how small. Please tell me I helped you. I'd like to think that I've had. I've come to depend on you so much these past few months, that I need this. This connection to link me to you for always.

I hope…

Hope is a beautiful thing. Almost as beautiful as my boy.

I've begun to call him that. My boy. Not that you know, he's really mine. He probably is somebody else's boy.

Hope is really all we have in this bleak dark world. It reveals itself in various forms. Like the simple rainbow that smiled at me yesterday morning. Like that picture someone sent me of Michelangelo's dome inside the Vatican. I still don't know who sent it. It just appeared in the mailbox one day. Addressed to me.

Reminds me of my boy.

I'd like to think it's him who sent it. Like he is thinking of me in heaven. Watching over me. But I guess I'm just hoping.

There it is again. That word. Hope. It is all around us isn't it?

He never said anything to me, except those two words on that afternoon.

But he taught me so much. I owe him so much.

He brought life back into my heart. He lifted me even though he was already bearing the world.

He gave back to me hope.

'I have to hurt you before you can hurt me.'

That was my motto before you know. Before he came along and swept me away with his silken brown locks and stormy eyes. Before he carried me away.

I honestly don't remember when I started living by that rule.

Maybe it was between the nth foster home they sent me to and the 100nth night I spent on the street, pouring my heart out to the stars. A tough street kid, growing up on the streets, talking to stars. What a joke. But you know, they are great listeners. They have one positive aspect that I could never forget. They don't talk back. They don't judge.

They just… twinkle.

That's why the moment I saw him I was drawn to him. His eyes twinkled like the million stars that listened to me.

He broke that dam, I've built up inside that was never unlocked. Not even to the stars. Not until the moment our eyes clashed.

We never exchanged words. Well you know, except for his two words, but that doesn't count. They didn't really tell me much. We exchanged everything with my eyes. Mine because his never revealed anything. Except for that day he spoke. But you know all that.

It was probably a good thing. Because if we used words, I might've hurt him. I'm like that with words. Talk too much. Not paying attention to what I say. Short tempered. Quick to lash out. Words are my whip. The whip that keeps others away from me. From my heart.

Him and me though, we didn't use words.

We didn't need to.

I loved him. It was deeper than lust. I truly believed I was falling in love with him. An overwhelming crushing kind of feeling. I know he needs it. Even in heaven.

That's why I can't bring myself to stop. Not that I really believe I can. Even if I want to. Which you know, I don't.

I love him too much to want that. Though it hurts. So much.

Why doesn't he come back to me?

Please… come back to me… please? Before I lose the part of myself you helped me find.

I love you… I need you… Heero. Where are you?