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Backwards
His smile i l.
He hardly knew your existence until his third year in your school. Your school is small, a high and mighty number of 99 students, and somehow, he had absolutely no idea that you were living and breathing under the same roof every…single…day. Then again, you never knew his either.
So when he is placed in the same class as your own, a dud class that you were hoping to be easy because after all, it is your senior year, you are slightly taken aback. He is seemingly quiet as the first few days progress, but shortly after the first week, you are convinced your initial observation could not be further from actual truth.
The teacher talks about harmful drugs and their side effects on your body if you abuse them without consent. One of the boys in your grade, a loud mouthed kid who has a buzz cut and a speech impediment, announces the possibility of his recreational use of a marijuana joint. By now, your teacher's experience with teaching teenage boys is not phased with any commentary.
His smile is contagious, tagged with an infectious laugh.
"What is your name?" You blurt.
-:-
H the finer details that life has to offer.
Today the class is discussing binge drinking and its consequences.
"Do not drink without a designated driver, and know your limits. Or else you will end up like these kids in the hospital, who have to have their stomach pumped etc…"
"Gross," The girls in your class gush, turning their faces with grimaces covering their faces as the TV shows a surgery taking place
"Cool," He breathes. "I've learned from EMT that…"
You are not even listening to his story anymore because of the fact that he appreciated the gross and intriguing videos as much as you did.
"What is your name again?"
-:-
He i an when it comes to music.
"You have this long block to collect information for your STD brochure, please use the library time wisely," Your teacher sighs and returns to her desk.
You seize the opportunity the moment you realize it is present. No one is sitting next to him and there is an empty computer that has your name on it.
"Hi," You force yourself to initiate a conversation. But the conversation does not go anywhere because he has his headphones in his ears. He does not even glance in your direction. Either he is listening to really loud music or he hates you…You think it's the latter.
Without thinking, you pull an ear bud from his ear and place it in your ear. "Is this Jack Johnson?" You recognize the soothing voice and the distinct guitar.
"Yeah," He answers, not offering any other word to cling onto.
"Do you like him?" Your question feels as idiotic and superfluous as you do when you are around him, trying to get his attention.
"Love him," He nods along to the beat of Banana Pancakes and drums his fingers on his keyboard.
"Who else do you like?"
His answers matter, they always do, but in this moment, you are not listening to his responses. You are counting the colors in his kaleidoscopic eyes.
Jack Johnson who?
"Want to go for a walk?"
-:-
He i boy.
You have spent a great deal of time exploring the spacious woods…of your backyard. You are familiar with the ticks and mosquitos, and consequential scars on your shins if you are not diligent enough with your movement. But your appreciation of nature is incomparable to his.
"I love exploring," He exclaims with excitement bubbling in his voice. "The woods are always so…"
You stumble along the pathway, attempting to walk with measured steps, but you have always been a klutz. Do not fall, do not trip, please do not embarrass yourself in front of his boy…
You hear a snap of the twig, a shuffle of the crunchy leaves, and feel yourself tumbling onto the dense floor.
"Are you okay?" He asks, offering an extended arm and that unorthodox smile.
"Yup, I'm all good," You reply quickly, abruptly standing up without his aid.
You two keep shuffling, side by side, along the pathway. You exchange favorites conversation.
"Did you know that A Day In The Life by The Beatles is an example why The Beatles are complete and total geniuses? The song is genius…"
No, you did not know that.
You did not know a lot, prior to this nature walk.
-:-
Hi feel like the perfect first kiss.
You've had a few kisses in your lifetime. Some messy, some ravenous, some impatient, and some slow. But you've never had a kiss feel like a high-expected first kiss. Especially since it was not your first kiss.
He kisses by the book, which is a peculiar and ironic statement to say because he had not kissed anyone prior to you. The words to describe it are unfathomably understated, but they fall along the fine lines of soft, gentle, kind, patient, outspoken, and heated.
You notice a little yellow speckles in his orbs as he pulls with all too soon.
Another color that went unnoticed by you previously.
The best kiss you have ever had.
"Thanks," You whisper.
"You're welcome."
-:-
He ha , u n da ma ge d, and has pure faith.
He does not believe in God. He thinks religion is rather dubious and would prefer to take his bets on science and the things that he can touch and prove. You aren't so sure of religious yourself, so you respect his honesty.
You are leaving soon for college, a place that is foreign and 4.5 hours away from home. From him. You have heard all of sorts of things: long distance does not work, long distance can work if you two both want it to badly enough, and long distance can mean a break but if you are mean to be together—you will find your way back to each other without a doubt.
Now, what are you supposed to believe? Your faith wavered with religion, how do you place your trust into fate?
"We will be okay," He assures you steadily.
He is always so steady, so sure.
"How do you know that?" You ask quizzically. Your doubt and hesitance is laced in your trembling voice. You don't mean to sound so faithless…
"Because," He says. "I just know."
"Okay," You sigh.
"Okay." He pulls you close to him.
-:-
He i s.
You do not do I love you's. It is not your 'thing'. You are the person who the I love you's are thrusted upon, simple and plain, you do not do that.
But the words are disclosed without your actual and rational permission.
You are riddled with exclamations when it comes to him. The fear, the worry, the lovely feelings of content, blissful evenings, comfortable honesty, daft arguments, enigmatic gazes, wicked kisses, lazy afternoons, tender kisses, genuine words, kind exchanges, bear hugs, loud debates, banana pancaked mornings—
You are his.
It has been forever, hasn't it?
Apologies. Just occasionally dropping by to write a one-shot.
Your hiatus author,
another moment gone