years ago he met boy that could make the most torrential of downpours sound like a chorus of angels. he swore that boys smile could make the dreariest afternoon feel like a night under the expanse of all things celestial. they told each other their dreams and nightmares and how some of them felt the same in the most terrifying of ways and how they kept them tired and awake and they trusted their words to be kept safe, locked up tight and guarded with tired souls between their soft lips and bruised arms and knees. he thought to himself, hands reached out above him, fingers lazily embracing an inky sky, a cloudy boy with bright eyes and a heavy heart beside him, that it couldnt get any better. he had forever to tell him and he would give it the time he needed.
he promised me forever, he recalls with a smile.
they are a firework and their sparks take shelter in the sky among the stars.
years later that boy is no longer his as he once was. he still falls in love with his voice and his tousled bed hair and kitten yawns again and again each morning and once more, agonizingly, in the evening. he still hears his words echo in his brain and tighten in his throat each time he speaks. the cloudy boy is now a hurricane long past, his effects still linger and stormy days give him no comfort. he cant look up the sky anymore and he avoids the night he once embraced. promises sound so cliche. he wont make them anymore and he laughs to himself when someone says they swear, they promise, that they can trust them, because he calls it bullshit and a cheap way to fuck with someone and cant put faith in anything or anyone as he once did. he still shares beds and hotel rooms with the static electric boy but the sparks that burned so brightly years ago are forcefully put out. he loves him and the boy loves him back. but hes brought back to reality by the vicious echo of who they are now and who that boy is now. they are not eachothers and the cloudy boy is still beautiful, he is still everything hes ever loved. but he is not his.
