Journey || Erik Durm

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CHARLOTTE:

                   IF one were to belittle Erik's stature into a mere metaphor, his entirety would be embodied by the great expanses of the universe, a compilation of quaint, atomic vastness that comprised an unmarred whole. He carried waterfalls of emotions and stories that aroused sensations once perceived as unattainable.

He was a sad story in the making, his eyes as grey as the winter morning, silently dictating mourning.

"I'm not really that sad," he would say, his lips pressed in a thin line, suppressing the genuine nature of his emotions. "I don't have a reason to be; not anymore." And I listened, trusting, enveloped by a blinding affection.

This was love.

It wasn't the perplexity that had accompanied the preceding months, not the days squandered with ambiguity; it was in action, when the chilly air swarmed with desire-clad intoxicants, when then, Erik, pursuing his lips, said something like, "You are more than the universe, Lotte, and I swear to fucking god, I'm falling into your gravity."

"Jesus, Erik, what are you now—a philosopher?" I would remark, but my heart swelled with butterflies, twisting and turning.

This was love.

It was understanding a person from the core and out, and seeing that they were not perfect—but far from it, really—and yet finding solace in such a reality. To love demanded effort; even so, I was effortlessly in love with Erik.

There were late night adventures, the two of us tangled in one another until the light drowned in the darkness of the midnight, the radiant moonlit skies kissing us as we kissed one another, trapped in the mirage of cloud nine.

Erik would trail his lips up my arms, exploring me with intent, stopping at my collarbone, doing this and that, and making my stomach flip and flop.

Mario would tease me the day after, deliriously grinning at the purple spots on my neck.

University became more of a chore, but I remained keen on my studies, telling myself that I had the rest of my life to spend with Erik.

Because I did.

Everything was surreal until one day, we bolted into reality, reality a daunting compilation of ruthless nostalgia and dismay. There was still the Cora debacle to confront, gatherings in a formal court we had yet to attend.

But we were still in love.

"You ready?" Erik asked, intertwining our fingers, which, obscured by a mitten, grew clammy under his touch.

My eyes glazing the courthouse that stood on the perimeter of the road, I nodded, swallowing. "You?"

"Yeah."

"And Mario and Carolyn?"

"He's driving with his family, and Mama opted out, but she promised to make it up."

Heaving out a sigh, I murmured, "Alright," embarking toward the metallic doors. Our destination, coated in ivory with colossal stairs ascending to the entrance, seemed to arrive before we'd taken a step, insinuating goosebumps on my arms.

"Don't be nervous, Lotte," Erik said, tightening his grasp on me. "This isn't so serious."

I chuckled, the gesture tinged with irony. "This isn't serious? Erik, you had a freaking stalker who convinced you that your girlfriend was mentally challenged, only to have her murdered while planting it as a suicide. Don't you dare tell me that isn't serious."