Dying and Everything in between

17| Like you the same

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Lucas and Joy walked to a footbridge that was near the parlor. The morning transitioned into a hazy mess of polluted grays and saturated yellows and blues. The light was starting to rise by the time they reached the deserted bridge. It wasn't exactly perfect. It was imperfect.

It was awfully cold too. The sweat Lucas was drenched with within the parlor already dried, and he was back in his hoodie, knowing if he didn't wear it, he'd most likely freeze. Cars were beginning to trickle back onto the road in steady streams. Honking, cold breeze, and the air stark with pollution: that was the town.

Out of all the years he was alive, Lucas never really stopped and took a second to stand still and simply revel in it.

Even though there wasn't much greenery to the eye or vast scenery to admire, it was still his home; the place he was going to leave behind. Lucas inhaled sharply, dense air filling his lungs. A breeze whipped past his hair, making his cheeks sting and his fringe disheveled over his forehead.

It was imperfectly perfect. Lucas, amid his sleep-deprived, adrenaline-thriving state, labeled it as so. Imperfect because this town was very far from being a utopia, and also perfect because he was here, and it was his home.

Something else reminded him of this. A certain person— Joy Jones. The definition of an imperfectly perfect person. Perfect face, smile, and laughter. Imperfect taste in music, fashion, and whatnot.

All things he hated and liked all in one thing. And the more he thought about it, letting it wrap around his mind in full, the more the gap in his chest widened. He couldn't just leave this imperfectly perfect place yet. He wasn't as ready as he thought he was to leave everything.

"You satisfied now?" Joy asked as they stopped beside one of the railings. Her baritone voice snapped him out of his trance.

"Pretty much," He chuckled,  "I was going to ask you about this. What's the meaning of our tattoos?"

"Well," Joy scratched the side of her head with her free hand. "Match it up with yours first."

"Done," He murmured, shivering a little as a cool breeze blew over them. He huddled closer to her, lining their hands together. His eyes splayed open slightly, noticing how the black ink, half-stars made one shining star.

"It's supposed to mean something and nothing," She explained sheepishly. Lucas glanced between their hands back up to her face, only to see that Joy was staring down at the tattoo.

"Whether we're something or nothing, it means that I'd always like you the same," Joy admitted.

"You like me?" Lucas lifted an eyebrow at her, unsure how to feel when his heart came to stutter in his chest. That was a first.

Well, a lot of people had told him that in his lifetime, but for some reason, when Joy said it, it felt genuine. Imperfectly perfect.

"Well yeah, you're a cool friend. I like hanging out with you," Joy shrugged. Lucas hummed to himself, unable to keep his smile from stretching wider across his lips. "Plus I thought the meaning would be cool. You'd have something to remind you of me in the afterlife."

"The afterlife?" Lucas whispered, watching as their hands dropped back to their sides.

"Yeah. Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Well, I've never thought about death in detail or religion." He joked.

"I don't want to offend you or anything," Joy said, turning her attention straight in front. She draped her folded arms over the railing, her teeth baring as another breeze rustled through her hair, staining her cheeks a faint red.