Look At Me When I Look At You ⚣ Victuri

/ A Story Of Two Boys /

I don't know when or how.....

Or why his eyes met mine within a single moment, through coral skies and salted strands of hair.

A single moment in which we shared.

A moment in which we will always share.

But his warm painted skin....

And his ebony hair flowing in the shore breeze....

And those brown eyes......

......

Those god damn brown eyes.

They extinguished the cigarette that filled my balloon lungs up with smoke and a longing desire for stimulation.

They extinguished the burning boredom I felt for every single living minute I had spent within this desolate beach town.

And their hazel tint lit me up.

Spread my emotions like a violent wildfire.

Made me walk up to him as if I were the ocean waves that clung to the sand for air.

And I spoke to him.

Or maybe....

He spoke to me.

I don't think I'll ever be able to recollect, remember...

But regardless.......

I fell.

I fell like the ashes of my tapped cigarette on the ground.

I fell like the washed away dreams I thought this town was taking away from me.

I fell like my board when it reached the cave of a perfect wave carrying me to shore.

Right into something that most people called love.

Love.

L-O-V-E.

Such a complex word.

An infinitely deep word.

Just like the ocean.

An ocean that is hard to surf on.

You either understand it too well....

Or you understand it too little.

But when he spoke to me....

I understood.

I understood that I understood nothing.

That I was naive.

That I was blind.

Because he showed me the whole world within a new light.

A light that was not caused by the red glare of the bonfire.....

Or the glow the Western sunset cast upon the beach we had decided to thrive on that night...

Or the burning Amber end of my cigarette.

It was a light that was caused by....

Well.....

Simply Love.

So...

Here's the story.

A story of two boys.

Young, vibrant, dreaming boys.

One who desired to be found.

And one who desired to find something new within the old.

Within Crescent Shores, California.

Circa 1985.

A time in which neon bowling alley/arcades, cinemas, and roller blading decorated the vintage streets.

Along with addicting music blasting through cassette tapes, lighting up juvenile eyes.

Lighting up my window pane room.

A time in which surf, sand, and sun were the three things that were worshipped alongside classic cars.

A time in which color thrived and freedom lived.

And.....
Living in this town was the American Dream.

But not everyone wanted to live the American Dream.

Especially not me.

So I fell in love instead.

★