Enjoy. Stayed up until 2 am pulling my hair out trying to finish it. Dedicated to DeathRay221 for commenting on last oneshot. Thank you!! 1,507 words. Please comment and vote! Love you guys. -Noah
Okay so I was reading back on this a few months later and just now realized that I used my name in this story haha. Sorry you guys, didn't notice. This story has no relation to me. Anywho. Continue.
Warnings: Sorta stalkerish, if I'm being honest. It's supposed to be loving, not creepy. Angst at the end and trigger warning for implied suicide.
Summary: It started with a camera. A camera, a boy with a passion, a park, and an unknowing, beautiful stranger.
Aiden was walking around the park, looking for trees and flowers to take pictures of. Maybe take a few candids of the kids on the swing set. Instead, he found a boy. He was sitting on the grass, under a tree, legs crossed, and a book propped up with one hand. His glasses were slipping down his nose, so he pushed them back up with a delicate, pale purple painted nail. Aiden stopped walking, completely focused on the beautiful stranger. He looked to be around 19. He was wearing a loose fitting, light colored sweater, light blue jeans with rips in the knees, and all white Converse. He had short, blonde, messy hair, and bright blue eyes hidden behind thick rimmed glasses. He was gorgeous. He seemed completely oblivious to the world, carefully turning a page in his book every few minutes. Without thinking, Aiden lifted his camera to his eye and took a picture. Then another. And another. Until eventually, he had several pictures of the beautiful stranger. Aiden took one last look at the boy before turning around and sprinting back to his bike. He hopped on and rode home, the boy on his mind the entire time.
The next day, Aiden went back to the park. He went straight to the place he last saw the boy. He wasn't there. Aiden looked throughout the entire park, but didn't find him until he was about to give up and go home. This time, he was sitting on a bench, earphones in his ears and staring down at his phone. Aiden secretly snapped a picture, trying to be discreet. The boy suddenly looked up, his eyes searching the small group of people to his right before scanning over Aiden and back to his phone, a small frown etched into his features. Aiden decided that he hated seeing the boy even slightly upset.
The next day was Monday. Aiden had to get up early to go to school. He was a senior, and the year was almost over. While at school, he scanned the crowd, looking for the beautiful stranger, hoping he was there. He didn't see him. When he got home, he took out his camera and looked through the photos he took of the boy. He shook his head, decided that he looked crazy, taking multiple photos of a stranger, and shoved his camera into his desk drawer. The next day, he forgot all about it.
It was finally Friday, and Aiden was bored. He grabbed his camera out of his desk and rode to the park. When he got there, he sat down on a bench and looked through his photos once more. Again and again the boy appeared on the screen, each picture making him look even more beautiful than the last. Aiden sighed. He needed to know who the boy was. He looked around the park from where he was sitting. Families having picnics. Couples walking together, laughing, their hands swinging between them. People reading silently. A beautiful boy staring at him, nibbling on his nail. Kids- wait. Aiden did a double take. It was him. And he was staring directly at him. The boy, realizing he had been caught, looked down instantly and blushed. Before Aiden could react, the boy had gotten up and bolted.
Aiden didn't see the boy at all the next week. He started giving up hope. Maybe he realized someone was taking pictures of him, so he decided to stop coming to the park. Maybe he was gone. Aiden sighed. He needed to stop thinking about him. He needed to get out and do something. So he decided to go to Starbucks, because Starbucks solves everything. As he was waiting in line, his thoughts drifted back to the beautiful boy. He was consuming his every thought. It wasn't healthy. Aiden ordered his drink and sat down to wait. A few minutes later, he heard his name called. It was a soft, quiet voice. Aiden bolted up from his chair and turned around. It was him. It was the boy. He walked over to the boy and took the cup that was being handed to him. The boy blinked at him, his eyes huge behind his glasses. He glanced at the boy's name tag. Noah. Aiden nearly laughed out loud. A beautiful name for a beautiful boy. They stared at each other for another moment before Noah realized he had other customers. He glanced at Aiden before turning to the next person in line. Aiden took a deep breath before leaving the building.
Noah. His name was Noah.
Aiden started going to Starbucks almost everyday after that. Noah worked there on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. Every time he ordered a drink from him, Noah would dot the 'i' in his name with a heart. Aiden thought it was adorable. Eventually, Noah even wrote his number on Aiden's cup. Aiden texted him that night.
Soon after, they would start hanging out, usually after Noah got off work. They would walk in the park, the very park Aiden first saw the gorgeous boy. They would hold hands, talk, and laugh. Aiden always invited Noah to his house afterwards. And Noah always said yes. They would watch movies and listen to music. They would read books and take pictures of each other. They would kiss and cuddle and dance. They were close. But Aiden never told Noah that he used to take secret pictures of the beautiful, clueless boy before they met. He didn't know the right time to bring it up. So Aiden didn't tell him.
He never stopped taking pictures of Noah. Whether they were obvious or discreet, Aiden couldn't stop capturing moments from this beautiful boy. If he was cooking, he'd take a picture of Noah covered in flour. If he was doing homework, he'd take a picture of Noah biting down on his painted nail, his eyes scrunched in concentration and his glasses on the table beside him. If he was painting his nails, he'd take a picture of Noah getting frustrated when he messed up a nail. If he was sleeping, he'd take a picture of Noah resting peacefully, arms wrapped around a pillow. He couldn't stop taking pictures of this beautiful boy. He was his world. His life. He wanted to capture every moment they spent together. He never wanted to forget the way Noah threw his head back when he laughed, never wanted to forget the way he squinted at everything if he forgot his glasses, never wanted to forget the love in his eyes when he looked at Aiden. Noah loved Aiden, and Aiden loved Noah. Aiden's world was much brighter with Noah in it. They were happy. They were in love. They were going to get married. They were going to adopt. They were going to go through life together, and argue about the stupidest things, like what kind of cereal is the best. They were going to grow old together. But fate had other plans.
The call came after Aiden got out of the shower. He was drying his hair when he answered. He answered it cheerfully. Seconds later, the phone dropped out of his hand. He fell to his knees, crying out. No. No, no, no. It couldn't be. Not his beautiful Noah. Not Noah. Not his cheerful, perfect, loving, careful, Noah. It's not Noah. It's not his Noah.
But it was his Noah. It was his Noah who was driving. It was his Noah who got into the wreck. It was his Noah who was rushed to the hospital. It was his Noah who didn't make it.
And it was Aiden who cried. Who sobbed. Who screamed, who fought, who hit. But it didn't bring his Noah back. Nothing did. And then it was Aiden sitting with Noah's parents. It was Aiden barely listening to the funeral arrangements because he was so spaced out he couldn't understand a word anyone said . It was Aiden who had to speak at the wake. It was Aiden who looked down at his beautiful boy in the coffin. It was Aiden who whispered his love over and over and over. It was Aiden who set the first picture he ever took of his angel beside his head. It was Aiden who pressed a last kiss to his love's forehead. It was Aiden who was forced to walk away. Then it was Aiden writing the note. It was Aiden repeating his apologies. It was Aiden who swallowed the pills. It was Aiden holding all of the pictures he had of his lover and his camera in his hands. And it was Aiden who finally closed his eyes.
