Our Yeah | #WattPride (Completed)

Sunglasses

I start to walk towards the waters, but a force pulled me back - made me stop. It made me look to our spot, to Peter, who's sitting there wearing his sunglasses with a smile plastered on his sweaty afternoon face.

I look at him now and everything is different, right as he sat there on the ground.

That sunglasses he wears always terrified and amused me at the same time. I never knew whether he was ignoring me or staring right at me and into my soul, which also adds tension in the air, for me anyway.

As he sat there, crossed arms, I can't help but think: Is he silently judging me? Is he inspecting every figure of my body? Or does he just not care? Does he want to swim? Does he not want to swim? So many questions and yet, I have no answers to any of them.

His head seems to look towards my position but yet his eyes are hidden away from the darkness of his sunglasses and it's driving me crazy. Should I go over there and take them off?

What is he thinking about?

Is he even awake?

He always wears the bracelet I gave him two weeks ago, did he really liked it that much? Or does he wear it only when we're going somewhere other than our houses?

All these questions spinning around me, eating me, whereas the answer to them lies in front of me, sitting underneath the beach sun, wearing sunglasses, oblivious to my demons, my questions, my dilemmas. Does he even see me?

Is it better to keep it this way? I don't have the courage to ask him what really bothers me, much less ask him does he like me like I do him. What am I thinking? Of course he does.

Does he?

My heart swells up again as I wander around the fact that he would even have any of the slightest of feelings for me. Yet, I also feel horrified on how easily he can break my fragile heart, if he so wishes.

Fathom or unfathomable, it's true either way. He runs in my head a thousand times in a second and I can't make him stop running, he never gets tired of visiting me, my thoughts, my dreams, he keeps lingering there like it's his home. Perhaps I should start charging rent if he's going to be there all the time.

He even bothers me in my sleep that it's ridiculous!

I don't know if I'm trapped in his spell or something and I don't know if I can break it on my own. Would I want to even break it if it's true?

Yes?

Maybe.

No. I wouldn't. I couldn't. I don't want to. I hope it's true.

The feeling is too far unimaginably genuinely good that I can't just set it aside when I'm full like those tater tots that Rebecca makes. She makes a lot of them and I couldn't possibly eat more even if they were extremely delicious.

The wind picks up, everything moves, the trees, the leaves, the plastics, the sand, the swings at the playground, the newspapers, all being carried by the mercy of the wind. It's impeccably unimaginable that we both can do anything that we want here.

I like the nice draft every once in a while, especially on a hot afternoon like this, it helps me cool down a bit, maybe I am feeling a bit flustered, or maybe it's just the heat. I can never tell.

But the wind does help. Even if it's just a little bit.