She looked beautiful. Her eyes full of wonder and excitement; her face illuminated by the fireflies she caught in a jar all by herself.
They weren't alone, but it would've been better if they were. Just the two of them catching fireflies. Bonnie would call him over the phone, yelling enthusiastically into the phone, "Wanna catch fireflies tonight?" But for now, all he can do is stare at her, even with everybody looking.
"Guys, look, I caught so much," she exclaims, squatting down as she holds up her jar. Marco shuffles near her and so do the rest, crowding around her. He gazes at the lighted jar for a moment before his eyes move up to examine her.
The glow of the fireflies made her look surreal, as if she was just an imagination, his imagination. Her dark hair framed her face but was still held back up by a bobby pin, despite all the rolling and tumbling that ruffled her messy hair. Marco found himself wanting to know if her hair was soft as it looked; he didn't dare to touch. His eyes traveled to her downcast eyes, she had rather short lashes which was another thing he's been noticing lately along with that little mole on her left eyelid. Sometimes, she'd complain about the fact that her mom had cut it when she was younger. But even if she had long lashes, he would feel all the same.
Looking at Bonnie gave him that tingling feeling. Speaking to her, laughing with her, or that one time when she smiled when she had caught him staring at her. He swears he felt infinite. He asked his mother about it once.
"What's that tingling feeling you get when you're around someone?"
His mother just laughed lightly and dubbed them as "butterflies," completely changing the real definition of the word. He thought it was bullshit. Marco would rather call them "fireflies," because the tingly feeling didn't tickle him, it lighted up his world.
"Dude, why are you staring at her?" one of the kids asked.
He was staring at her because he liked her a lot; she was one of his closest friends. But so were Abel and Annie, and he never stared or got the "fireflies" feeling whenever he was around those two. And he liked them, too. He didn't understand the difference.
Not until Marco looked back up to her eyes, which reflected the illuminating shine of the fireflies she caught. Not until Bonnie looked back so deep into his own and that calming wave that washed over him when she did so. Not until he heard his heart slowly pounding in his ears and when the heat that enveloped his cheeks forgot to subside.
The difference was love. He loved her like the way his dad loved his mother, or the way the sun loved the moon.
"I'm not," he spoke finally.
And then, she smiled.
