A STEP IN LOVE [BoyxBoy]

1.

The way he helped me when my files fell and the smile on his face, heightening the beauty of his warm brown eyes. His hands were so large and made me feel reassured, a bit too much perhaps that I forgot how awkward I appeared to the other students, how clumsy this nineteen year-old student painted himself to some middle-class to-be- undergraduates. Yet, I could not overcome the slightly too strong chemical that rushed through my veins, confusing my senses, dictated and overruled by his warmth. Lost in a feeling indescribable, a bit too strong to articulate, too fresh to be tarnished by my sullied thoughts, I enjoyed the sweet juxtaposition of fate: the clumsy versus the confident. That's all I could do.

Joshua stepped out of his reverie. None of this had happened. It was just the sweet imagining of an English student, lost in a love condemned by some, secretly savoured by his sole creative mind. He stopped listening to the two-hour lecture about Medieval literature. After the first hour, he had allowed himself to drift to something slightly more pleasant -- ogling at this young man with a trimmed beard, in a checkered blue shirt. He was playing with his pen, heeding carefully Mr.Roger's words, noting from time to time.

His name was Mark. Mark Lucas De St.Jermain. He was half-irish, half-french. There was something so appealing in him, in his apparent seriousness that hides to the perfection his uncontrolled, swift and cognac-scented nature that playboys share. Initially, the rolling of the pens - like the sweet playfulness of fate messing with your life- was enough to unravel that nature of his. Yet, Joshua or Josh for the friends and family had blinded his eyes to this indicative move, intentionally (clearly) to the excuse that not all playboys look like him. Or that everyone can roll their pen (he could not). Or even that the typical playboy would be chewing some gum, deaf to the lecture, eyeing beauties from the corner of the eyes. Or be playing guitar.

He moved his head. He had to listen. Medieval literature and the French interferences.

'Mark must understand it easily,' he said to himself.

The praising of God and religion. The nuns and friars. It was interesting. But Joshua had personified the word God and tagged it to Mark. An exaggeration indeed of a university student, immature; a failure to draw a line between school and fantasy; a blasphemy. He wondered if all literature students were like him. Who knows? Who cares? All that mattered was the shiny hair of this gentleman, sitting two seats in front, with the face of a God and the eyes of a devil that tempted the clumsy and coy little boy. He was fed by an imagination that demanded the neglect of this lecture.

'Him', he pointed at Mark awkwardly, 'or the lecture?' he wondered. 'The lecture, right?' he answered, out of duty, guiltily quitting his insensible activity, grudgingly listening to Mr. Roger, deprived. Deprived of this godly man.

Finally class was over. Joshua remembered he had to borrow some books on poetry forms from the library. Aidan, his best friend since this year, would be waiting for him. The latter was studying Chemistry. He even enjoyed Joshua's poetic side, having an interest in the Arts; but it was forestalled by his authoritative parents. His pal had no interest in Chemistry, not a single drop of H20 as he used to say but Aidan respected that.

He had a calmer nature and his eyes, green like the Garden of Eden, fierce like that of a tiger, was peaceful, comforting even Joshua. He was serious, except perhaps that he feared losing control and his waywardness would govern his composed nature.

Joshua was waiting outside the library. Aidan was late. The former pretended to be infuriated; his temperamental nature attracted Aidan and he knew it. There is something so peaceful and magnificent in having someone who embraces you in spite of your faults. Aidan smiled at his bosom friend but the latter's eyes shifted from a genuine greeting and gradually turned into amazement. Eyes sparkled as the godly human penetrated the sanctuary of Joshua's thoughts again. Mark was behind them. His thoughts rushed as Mark rushed inside behind Aidan, making his legs trembled. Lust. Lust of a lusty man. It troubled Maria who was accompanying Mark. The 'godly' expression somehow disturbed Aidan too – it felt like it was misplaced, exaggerated, boasting. Loud flattery brings you everywhere but silent praising, an adoration that elevated the being above who it is, to the level of a god, is nonsensical. That was Aidan's inner thought, mixed somehow with an unrecognizable jealousy, a jealousy whose bitterness was impalpable to the tongue. He masked the taste. He ignored Mark.

'You're okay?'
'Uh yeah yeah,' said Joshua.
Joshua came back to himself, admiring his pal's friendly nature and caring touch like the scent of the rose in a fresh morning, reassuring him a bit more that Mark's warmth. He was tall, strong and beautiful. Joshua was placid now.

'Yes, sir. But you're a little late, right?'

He smiled at how Joshua asked his question. The 'Yes, Sir' thing sounded beyond the ordinary cuteness that his voice intended to convey. 'Oh sorry, you know, I had some questions to ask.'

'It's cool, Ai. Come, I'll look for the book'

Aidan smiled again, this time at the nickname. Duller than the one he had given to Joshua, it made him appreciate the effort more. His smile was soft and unnoticed by his pal. He relished the odour of the book-- something Jojo did too.

Mark was also looking for a text on poetry and when Joshua saw him again, behind a book, he lost his composure. The wind was blowing just in the right way but his re-adjustment of the weather was dramatic, like that of a poet and he felt the cracking sound of turned yellowish pages mixed with the scent of woods that had survived years of trouble or romance. Mark saw both and winked at his mate. A silent greeting by the head was addressed to Aidan who confirmed that Mark was slightly gay or had some homosexual propensity. He could read people, he used to say. Aidan answered back, unmoved. Yet, he recognised his charm.

'He winked at me,' muttered Joshua.
'Yeah I saw that.'
Aidan's voice was colder. Despite agreeing with Jojo on his classmate's charm, he was not enthralled by Aidan's joy. Not that he hated Mark. He did not know him well. But he felt upset. Jojo felt it too and wondered if Aidan was fine. He did not ask but remembered his relationship with Veronica, his girlfriend was worsening and the wink of Mark which Joshua construed as a sign of fate, a marvel that promised a union, a tone of sunray blossoming the green bud -- incandescence blended with the essence of hope.

He daydreamt again. His hands. His lips. His eyes. Heaven. H.E.A.V.E.N

He snapped out of it with Aidan's pinching his creamy skin. The realisation of his exaggeration, the spreading of an irking immaturity that clearly disturbed Aidan and any sensible adult made him shut off. He apologised.

'He is not your boyfriend, Joshua. Ugh.'
Aidan's voice was deep and clear but carried a roughness that pinched Joshua's heart only to utter the burning truth. Mark was a crush, not a boyfriend. Between sulking and agreeing, this little boy --yet to be a man true to himself -- took a book and left, silent. Aidan followed. No word was said.

'Guys!'

It was the piercing voice of Maria. 'Markie told me you were here. How are you, babies?'

'Fine and you?' Both said it at the same time and it felt like their voices were blending, almost into one, heightened by the blowing wind outside. Yet, the 'Markie' that Maria had just uttered made Joshua blushed and at some point, the union of their voices lost its charm.

'By the way, you have to help me for the College Charity Fair, guys.'

'Oh yes, carrot cakes, right?'

'Indeed!' she said laughingly. She left joining Mark. She had to remind him too. He too had to be there at the Fair after all.

The two did not talk much. The air was warm and demanded a discomfited state, some form of silence – until the sweet breeze that makes the birds sing with the choir of leaves reminded them that that day was a good day to live and the light of the intense but leaving sun gave prominence to the garden outside.

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