The Boy in the Leaves

Autumn leaves

The boy in the leaves.
Truthfully, I wish I could sit on a bench in Autumn forever. It would be just me and the leaves. The beautiful autumn leaves, oh how I wish they'd stay forever. Do you think the leaves remember a person the way a person may remember them? You're right, that's a silly thought, but I just wish...

My mother told me leaves fall from trees because they're ready to let go and explore the world. She said the trees are happy for leaves when they leave, so why can't I be happy when leaves fall? My mother told me to pick a leaf I thought was special to me on a tree. When I was ready to let go, she said the leaf would fall.

I sit on this bench, waiting. Why can't the autumn leaves stay forever? Even if you do everything right they still leave. Why is that? What did I do wrong? Why can't I be perfect enough for the leave to stay? Too many questions, I don't want to overwhelm myself or you with questions. There's a tree next to the bench. The bench I've been sitting on. It still has many leaves, I have yet to see any fall. I can't help but think, will they stay forever? Are these the leaves that won't leave me? My false hope hurts as one falls...

I'm bored.
The brown bench I sit on is shaking, it's not that stable. The skies are blue and cloudless, and the ground is painted with colors of orange, red, yellow, brown, and purple, but with each passing day, the ground loses its color. I could've worded that better, don't you think?

The tree that used to have so many leaves is almost empty. I so foolishly thought they would stay with me, it hurts. There is one leaf left, it's the special leaf I picked, but now I'm thinking it's not so special.

There's a dark fence behind me that goes with the colors of fall perfectly. The fence is bigger than me, thicker, too. I wonder what beyond it, I wonder what it's like to let go. For a second, I almost leave the bench until I remember. I can't just leave, what if I come back and every leaf is gone? What if I came back and they already came while I was gone? I can't leave.

Loverboy.
My mother used to always call me loverboy, I no longer know what else I'm called. Loverboy, loverboy, loverboy.
"Hello, I'm Loverboy."
No.
That sounds stupid.
What would they think if I said that?
Would they leave faster?
The ground is losing the mixture of color it had, and now my sentences look different.
It hurts.

No, I don't want winter to come.
Many love winter, I used to love winter.
Winter was fun, but I don't want the autumn leaves to leave. Not again. Last fall they left, and I haven't seen them. I've seen autumn leaves, yes of course I have, but I haven't seen them.
I'm just the boy in the leaves.

The bench won't be able to hold me any longer. I don't think I'll be able to hold myself any longer either. The leaves are gone, and a peck of snow falls on me. The only leaf that stands is my leaf. I can leave now, what if they come? I can't leave now, please.

It's snowing, and nobody came. I failed. I failed again. I'll have to wait until next fall, but I can't leave the bench. I just can't. Just like how my leaf can't leave its tree. I feel tired. I don't want to stay awake. I want to sleep...

Snow has covered pretty much everything. Everything except me and the leaf. I'm starting to wish the snow would cover me, starting to wish the snow would bury me away for failing. Why did I have to fail again? What is wrong with me?

"Hi."
Don't. Don't talk to me. Please, I'm not worth it.
"Hello?"
An unfamiliar voice. It's not them. My Hazel eyes flutter open, I wish they hadn't.
"Hello."
Stop talking, why am I talking back? Whoever they are doesn't deserve to get tied up with me.
"I'm ¥@%#$."
I didn't hear their name.
"Loverboy,"
I respond.
The other boy sits next to me.
The dialogue is messing up how this part of the story looks. It's messy, what if they don't come back because it's messy?
"Are you also waiting for someone?"
The boy asks. I nod.
"Let's wait together. It'll be better."
I don't respond to them. We shouldn't. I'll mess it up and they'll leave hurt. Just like what happened with them. The other boy doesn't show interest in leaving.

It's been a while. I'm glad it's not so messy now. The boy has been talking a lot, I just listen. I don't want to get attached to the snow boy, though I can't help but feel happy when they talk. Having someone here who is interested in speaking with me, I like it. No matter how hard I try not to get attached I can't help but feel comfortable. This is my problem, I get comfortable with people so easily.

It's been so long, the person hasn't left. I'm feeling much better, talking to another person is nice though I have a lingering guilt. I realized that they weren't coming back, I'd been holding onto nothing this whole time. The tree next to the bench is empty now, with no leaves at all. I can leave, but I think I'm gonna stay with Snow Boy a little longer.

You. You there.
You've listened to me sit here all fall waiting for someone, you even stayed when the dialogue made everything messy. I wasn't alone the whole time, was I? Thank you for staying. Most people don't do that. I'm Loverboy, I know that. I know that's what my mother called me, but I don't know who I am. Please, can you tell me? Do you know who I am?"