He waited, perhaps how the moon waited for the sun.
And I chose to ask more of it-of the ceaseless hope we held in our palms. "Give me tonight, please."
"You've got tonight." It was an effortless sentence. A string of words spelling assurance, settl...
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MIDNIGHT WALKS REMAINED UNSURPASSED—the good in being isolated a marvel of its own. With the sky painted an ocean of navy and eyes replicating the stars, my feet took off to the City Park. Midday was the time everybody was out and about, immediately making this place a pressing dislike. The swings were off-limits without being labeled as a horrid example to younger kids, and the controlled glares random people dared to pass still stayed strange.
Nonetheless, this was indeed ridiculous on my part—did ridiculous even justify what I was doing? Clad in black sweatshirt and a wave of tiredness, I decided to jump out of the window at 12:30 A.M. Maybe I was hell-bent on dying too soon, and the options were varied. It could either be a murderer on the street looking for the next victim, or my very dear brother upon finding out about my adventures.
Yet, my intellect pushed me to the edges, and only the whispering winds seemed to calm the chaos I held.
This wasn't a thing, back in Tennessee. If I would've stepped a foot out of my window at midnight, somebody might've called the police. The way it became second nature truly terrified yet astounded me to the depth of my bones, but I wasn't doing anything to stop myself regardless.
The park seemed to flash my childhood for a solidifying second—the monkey bars and the slides immediately getting personified. I wasn't ever the monkey bars person, though—kids had some serious core strength to do shit like that. Swings forever remained the only comrade, and the mere sight made my lips twitch upwards in a grin. Rubber against cobblestone chimed in my ears, and it was only when I looked back up that I saw a silhouette.
Great, I wasn't alone.
Steps stopped, and so did my breathing. They say that if you are close to death, you would know. A painfully revealing seven seconds would unfold and unfold with all the memories near and dear, slowly wrapping you in its spellbound—
Evan.
"Oh my God, this has to be a joke, right?"
My voice was weirdly strained and passive, but the storm that set my heart into an overdrive stirred with a different halo—scarlet and pink, bright and hot, ever-enchanting and all-consuming. Why was he here? He was turned to face me, hands in pockets and a signature dismissive look on his face. Even though I was far off, his face excelled in the moonlight and struck my cheeks in a raw crimson, and I had to ball my fists for the situation to make sense.
He was the kind of splendor poetry was written about, the visage which could belong to the paintings in a refined museum. He was art and heartache in an amalgamation of musical notes, but the world seemed too tone deaf to comprehend.
He laughed, then, immediately making me snap out of my thoughts. If I had been gawking at him because, well—he was beautiful, I wanted to punch him in the face. Some instincts never did go away.
