Young and Foolish

Chapter 32: My Meadowsweet

Jason's POV

Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him.

With every moment that he was near, my thoughts would only grow more insistent.

We spent the weekend only studying. He was so unbelievably vibrant, so excited to just sit at a desk all day long with me. And he was so friendly and curious. Chatting amicably about the simplest of things and going off on all kinds of interesting tangents about whatever it was that we went over in our textbooks.

And yet, he was still so calming and peaceful that I found myself feeling wonderfully tranquil just in his presence. He quieted my mind so easily.

And as lovely as this felt, it was nothing short of a nightmare.

I was falling for him deeper and deeper with every smile he sent my way. And he sent many.

It was all so much. I hadn't even confessed yet. I couldn't do anything to him until he accepted my feelings, but I'd have to share them first before he could accept anything.

And I didn't know how to do that.

I was walking a tightrope.

I had never been in a relationship before. I was never even interested in a relationship before.

I lay in bed Sunday night, staring pointedly at the bed above mine. He hadn't yet fallen asleep, but the both of us were lost in our own thoughts.

I had no idea what was holding me back. But I'd be a coward if I let the weekend pass by without saying anything.

"Theodore," I called out lightly.

"Yeah?" he replied, a hint of sleep edging his soft voice.

"Can you tell me a story?" I asked. He was silent for a moment

"Of course," he murmured. His voice was too quiet for my comfort. Whatever story he was going to come up with, I wanted to hear it as clearly as possible. I wanted to remember it. I wanted his words to ghost over my skin. And we were much too far apart for that.

I stood up, peered over the railing to look at him.

"Mind if I come up?" He blinked at me, surprised.

The window casted silver moonlight across his face. Gorgeous.

"Yeah, sure," he answered, shuffling over to make room for me to lie beside him. I climbed up the ladder and settled in beside him.

His bare arm against my bare arm. Normally, I slept in boxers, but I was wearing a cotton t-shirt with sweats because I wasn't sure he'd be comfortable with an almost nude boy in his bed. A part of me wished I was in boxers though, wished we were both in boxers. Wished we were both wearing so much less.

The bed was the perfect size for cuddling. We weren't cuddling. It felt awkwardly cramped instead, but neither of us commented on the lack of space.

"In a deep, dark forest at the far edge of the universe is an old, old willow tree."

I closed my eyes, picturing the beauty he painted with his words.

"No one knows exactly how old the tree is, but legend has it that it's as ancient as time itself. Maybe older still. It is not very tall, but its branches are so densely thick that nothing is able to grow underneath. Nothing except the sapling of a meadowsweet plant.

The meadowsweet withers on each dusk and is borne anew by each dawn. It blooms for only a moment, and some say its flowers can heal any ailment or affliction. But only few have attempted the journey, and even fewer return.

It's rumoured that the willow was an old god, and his meadowsweet is a mortal he loved so deeply. The meadowsweet pledged his life in devoted worship at a young age but it was only a short matter of time that he lost his life to an incurable illness. Horribly saddened by the unjust way in which the meadowsweet was taken from him, the willow gave him the option to accompany him, rather than let his soul wander the heavens.

The meadowsweet agreed on one condition: that he would be able to help those like himself. The willow readily accepted, and the two explored the galaxies in good fun. The meadowsweet would heal any illness they came across, and many revered the powerful duo.

But their merry times were not meant to go on forever. A dark being who was envious of their love for each other and the love the people had for them made plans to separate the two and exploit the meadowsweet's healing powers. He managed to steal away the meadowsweet, but the meadowsweet's soul immediately dissolved away.

See, souls that do not go to the heavens must remain near whatever it is they are attached to. If separated, they cease to exist. The dark entity thought it was charity that the meadowsweet chose to live on for, but the meadowsweet had only cared for allegiance to his god."

I opened my eyes and turned my head to frown at him. But his mind was elsewhere. He was staring off far into the distance, with a beautifully soft expression, and my urge to kiss him intensified tenfold.

So what if his stories are sad? They're his stories. And that is all that matters.

"The willow grew enraged," Theodore continued, "and the whole universe was petrified in anticipation of what he would do. But he did nothing. He cared for nothing other than his meadowsweet and he simply couldn't bear to carry on without him. He didn't even have it in himself to punish that dark being, because he knew his meadowsweet would never want him to go down the horrid path of revenge.

All the willow could do was retreat to the farthest recesses of the universe and weep, cursed with his immortality. His form took root and curled into twisted bark.

The universe took pity on him, and every creature searched far and deep for the thinnest shreds of lost souls. They pieced together what little they could find and presented it to the willow tree.

The willow enveloped his tiny meadowsweet in his arms, shrouding him completely from sight and touch. They cannot be together in the way that they used to be, for the meadowsweet is doomed to die so quickly, but the willow's love ensures his return."

I heard a rustle and opened my eyes to see him hopefully looking at me. The ending wasn't that satisfactory, but at least they didn't die so tragically like his other story. 

"Why willow and meadowsweet?" I asked. He could've chosen any random plants, but I wanted to know why these two were special to him. A part of me wondered when I would be special to him.

"Willow symbolizes new life, meadowsweet represents healing and the two often grow together," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"You like plants that much?" I wouldn't say that was common knowledge, and I was interested in everything that interested him.

"My mother was a florist," he whispered. There was a melancholiness to his voice.

I edged my hand closer to his. My pinky finger shyly creeping over his.

He turned his hand over so that our little fingers could interlock.