Universe

14.11.15

This was my first weeks submission, so I had no idea what I was doing, really, or what league of writing everyone else was in. This was obviously influenced by Dan's story about Serena on Gossip Girl, just about something very close to home - when me and the guy that would become my whole world kissed for the first time.

Let me start off, first, by saying that I'm no Dan Humphrey. Mostly because I'm real, but I don't match his ability to poeticise his feelings. I don't have the perfect life, married to the glamour and lifestyle of an upper east-sider. But I do have my own story to tell, and I am a boy wildly, crazily in love. So in some ways, I am Dan Humphrey.

But my story starts somewhere very different. In fact, it starts in outer space. A small byte of data, launching into the million stars to carve our story, and then making its graceful return to the small black slab which I cradle in my hand.

Maybe it's a little ambitious to believe that we were meant to be. And usually, I do not subscribe to such unrealistic thinking; we make our own destinies after all, right? Eleven month ago me would have agreed, but now I'm just a hopeless romantic.

'Hey' the message read – complete with a winking face. This one word, four-character digital utterance travelled thousands of miles to land in my phone, what a waste of a couple of nanoseconds. Some guy I don't even know, probably trying to flirt shamelessly with me. I scanned his name – Ross Brown - it wasn't familiar. And that winking face? So predictably cringe-worthy. Nonetheless, I was pretty bored that day, so someone to talk to couldn't be all that bad. 'Hey' I composed, with a smirking face. Without thinking, I tapped send.

-

Two weeks later, almost to the day, we stood face-to-face. Saturday the 14th of November, 2015. I noted the date mentally, because I knew it was special the second I pushed out into the crisp and cold wintering air. Because there he stood, sheltered by a naked sycamore, but illuminated by the warming glow from a nearby lamp. It was pretty dark for half six at night.

"Hey," He had whispered, punctuating it with a wink.

"Hey," I had smirked, moving closer to him. We didn't touch, this was our third time meeting in person, not counting the undeniably chemical eye contact we had made during work - it turns out, that was how he knew me. He was the new blood, and I was the one-year legacy.

"Do you wanna-" he stared, but at the same time:

"I got you some-" and then we both fell into silence, waiting for the other. I drew in a fresh breath. "I got you something," I smiled, reaching into my bag. It was an over-the-shoulder bag that took form of Captain America's shield. Ross wasn't a fan yet, but he would be – that was a promise I had made to him somewhere in the past two weeks.

I rummaged for a second, focusing on every item my fingertips skimmed, and his heavy breathing that felt as though it reached right into my cold ears.

"You didn't have to," he said weakly; I could tell then, by his apparent lack of resistance, that he liked getting presents. So I decided then, by his apparent keenness for gifts, that I would buy him everything that I could.

"It's a thank you," I said, though pausing between each word. My concentration remained on seeking said something. Water bottle, nope. Keys, nope. Box cutter, nope. Ah, there you are.

I pulled the something out of my bag, and it rustled about in my hand. He knew what it was from just that alone; Pinballs. His favourite sweets. His face smoothed into a smile, and he let out a little laugh.

"For what?" he wasted no time reaching out and taking the bag. He looked at the pinballs with deep love. Maybe even... lust? One day soon, he would look at me the exact same way.

"Next week my friend from work is leaving, and you're going to be my date," my heart immediately began to regret that. My palms grew slicker with sweat than usual. That was a totally not-me thing to say. I mean, my intention all along was to ask him. But not like this. In my usual, awkward, hedges-around-the-topic way. Like, 'Hey. I don't mind if you're busy, or something, like whatever, but I have this thing next week. Well it's leaving drinks for someone you don't know, but-but I do, and, well I was wondering if you'd want to, like, go I guess?'.

I physically backed away from him. Partly because if I stood too close, he would hear my heart pounding in my chest. God damn, he made me nervous. It was like Steve Rogers was punching me in the chest, really hard, and really regularly.

But partly so I could survey his every action and facial twitch. It felt like hours before he finally opened his mouth to speak. In reality, it was about three seconds. And when he did, his round face and soft features broke into a smirk.

"Deal," he laughed, extending his arms to me. I tried not to show him how hard I was trembling when I took his hand and shook it. "So do you wanna go somewhere?" he finally got round to asking.

I nodded, probably a little too enthusiastically. "This way," I smiled, before turning instantly on my heel so he couldn't see my lips quiver in angst.

-

"Wow," he whispered, breathless.

"Yeah," I agreed. I had led him down a small alley, between two towering retail buildings, and across a lush green park that would later be a sacred place to us, and our discovery of each other's bodies. But that's another story, entirely.

And we had arrived at the riverside. Under the pale moonlight, it was a dark stream of water, as wide as a cruise boat. The other bank was lined with trees and shrubbery, accompanied by the dark silhouettes of tall buildings reaching up high behind them – there wasn't a single light on any of the buildings.

So here we are, two weeks later, almost to the day, standing face-to-face. I'm trying to focus on anything else so I can downplay that there is beautiful human being standing barely inches away from me. I can feel his warm breath, so nice against my numbing face.

There was the light rushing of water spilling over a weir somewhere in the distance. A calming sound, keenly juxtaposed with the once more stammering of my beating heart.

The smell of smouldering cedar drifted on the wings of the wind from the nearby smokehouse. It was both strangely cosy, but refreshing. Crisp, I think. But this was intercepted by the fresh mint drifting from his slightly open mouth.

Though we were stood under a skeleton-fingered tree, bearing no leaves, but woven with white fairy lights that twinkle as though the stars have come to earth, just to watch this moment for themselves, there was still the sprinkle of light rain falling onto our exposed skin. It seemed fitting that the stars had come to visit once again – they had been there the whole time we were texting, reading the messages as they entered space, watching our beautiful story unfold.

"Luke," he said low, noticing my derailed attention. My eyes and head had wandered to the right of him, where the sparkling lights of the smokehouse promised warmth. I snapped my head towards him, but he caught me off guard.

He placed his right hand on the back of my head, and his other on my shoulder. He pulled me in quickly, and pressed his warm lips against mine. My blood rushed everywhere inside me. My knees buckled, but I didn't let him see that. His mouth opened slightly, and mine followed, like he was the one-year legacy of kissing, and I was the new blood.

Something changed inside me that day. Suddenly, I believed in soulmates. I believed in star crossed lovers. I believed in the fate of two people, intertwined.

I believed I wasgoing to be with this boy for the rest of my life.