The time I met Matthew #Wcontest2015

One

A/N hey!
This is just a one shot for a competition, if I get a lot of response I might make it into a proper book. It's set in London, England so it would have the London slang, games and words. If you don't know what the word means just ask through the comments and I would reply as fast as I can. But the ones I know which would be different in America, Canada etc would be translated at the end just so you know. If you still don't understand just ask! ;)
Rebecca!
*********

"Many a man has fallen in love with a girl in light so dim he would not have chosen a suit by it."
-Chevalier Maurice
*******
I fell in love eleven months before I died.

It was a beautiful winter, when I met him.
When I met Matthew.
Pale piercing hazel eyes and a star worthy smile drew me towards his tall, dark exterior. High cheekbones with full soft lips that occasionally flushed pink, stood out, creating this appearance of a male model.
He was a gentle soul, loved doing charity work and he was intelligent too. Knowing six languages fluently and his GCSEs ranked him in the top 2% of the country.

He was the genius of our relationship.

Matthew never played with me as if I was a doll, never pitied me or bullied me for being plain. Which I was immensely grateful for.
He made me feel alive and normal. Not an old broken toy a young child didn't want anymore. He made me feel wanted.

I was the ordinary one who was loved.

Love was only dominate in his eyes as I spent the last -no, my last months with him.
I knew I was going to die.
He knew I was going to die.
We all knew.
But that didn't stop him.
For making the last months for me the most perfect eleven months.
******

The water droplets fell for hours on end outside.
It was a dark Monday's morning and the British weather had played up again (as always). Sounds of shoes smacking the floor violently, fills the silent, still train. High heels, tacky trainers, school shoes and even sandals splashed on the endless puddles that grew and grew as seconds past. Seconds turned to minutes, as people slid and squished in the narrow area, filling the train -that day- with an unbelievable amount of people.
Men, women, children and teenagers squeezed and shoved themselves in, some sitting; most standing, all wouldn't send a single glance to anyone they didn't know. Mumbles flew around and some people made idle chat, others didn't. Smells of sweat, strong perfume and cologne invaded my nose almost suffocated me.

But in a corner. A corner.
That's where he stood on that Monday. The one that had made me happy for the final months of my life.

Dressed in a midnight black school blazer with a small purple and yellow badge. A crisp white button up shirt underneath a tie with the same design as the badge on a black background and long grey trousers. Concentration had taken over his face, eyelids closed, mouth slowly moving to the song, as he listened to music using his bright neon blue earphones. Loosely, a black and white vans school bag hung from his right shoulder an lightly swung every time the train moved.
He look relaxed and content.
He was so beautiful.

Like a glove the uniform fit him so perfectly, he camouflaged with the countless teenagers in on this train alone. The uniform he and I shared.
When my eyes scanned the train and I had merely spent a minute looking over his figure and moved on to people out of the ordinary.

I saw many people that day. Few that I remember though.
People with all types of outstanding behaviour. One wore a white coat that now had a greyish brown layer at the bottom, of her ankle length coat. Her face was so full of tears, staring into the distance. But not all foreigners dressed that way, I've seen a some that dress better than the locals, who occasionally are deceived by the sun and weather predictions.