These Paper Pages

it leads back to you [arlyke]

tw: short snippet displaying homophobia.

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In which the path taken leads back to him. 

Or the story goes a little like this.

Arlo is fifteen when he realises girls do not interest him. Instead, he notices messy red hair vibrant under sunrise, sees the blue skies reflected in golden eyes, sees toothy smiles and sunkissed skin. Feels the lingering warmth of his touch. Arlo sees Blyke first before anyone else; notices him first before anything else. In that moment of breathless stupor, sun in ascent and light touching everything it reaches, Blyke waves and smiles, his name on his tongue. Arlo smiles and pushes through the crowd to reach him, falling in step with him as they walked together, shoulder against shoulder, laughter bubbling between them. He is the sunshine in his eyes and pleasantly, Arlo doesn’t mind being blinded by the light if it was him. 

Clear skies, summer nights, wisps of red hair tickling the nape of his neck. A warm hand against his own, whispered promises to the wind beneath their breaths, his own heart thudding against his chest as he chances a glance at the sleeping redhead pressed against his side, pieces of a puzzle coming together. Halcyon days and quiet nights, solace found in silence, Arlo closes his eyes and in a moment of madness, he wishes for time to stop so they could stay like this forever; but time waits for no one, much less stop. Summer ends and distances grow. 

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“It’s wrong.” His mother says, conviction in her tone that leaves no room for arguments. “Marriage is strictly between a man and a woman.” Her blue eyes are soft, but Arlo does not miss the iciness behind them as she spoke, shoulders squared and stiff. 

“It’s shameful to even think of Blyke like that, disgusting even.” He swallows down the hurt ebbing at his chest, blood flushing his cheeks as he nods. 

“Don’t disappoint us again, Arlo.” His father says, finally breaking his silence as he levels him with a cool, impassive stare. Steel grey eyes cutting into him, boring into his soul. Again he nods, fingers grasping the cutlery tightly. He hated those eyes. 

“You’ll stay away from him from now on.” It wasn’t a request, her tone made no room for negotiation. Her mother’s decision is final, and Arlo never liked letting either of them down, hated the disappointment in their eyes, hated the coldness of their presence as they offer him nothing but a passing gaze. He bites his tongue, tasting the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, he wished things were different. 

“Yes father, mother.” 

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Blyke deserves an explanation, Arlo knew that much and yet he hesitates, stomach churning at the thought of even speaking the truth. A long time ago, he saw himself as someone brave enough to do what was right and yet here he is, walking away with no explanation. He can't face him, he didn't want to look into those golden eyes and see confusion and sorrow and anger, he can't face him and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Starless skies, cold nights, Arlo left without a word, merely left and never looked back. Blyke couldn't understand it, didn't know what to make of it because they have known each other for years only for it to end without proper closure; he didn't understand why he left and why he did. Questions after questions, unanswered messages and calls left on voicemail, a year spent chasing for answers he'll never get. 

Sixteen and he let's go, gives up chasing after ghosts and moves on. Sometimes he looks back and wish things could have been different but it was all wishful thinking, just nostalgia whispering memories of childhood innocence and sweet summer bliss of being huddled together under starlight and laughing. He misses it sometimes, misses Arlo's  unwavering presence and support, his small smiles meant only for him, the gentleness that lies beneath his firmness and certainty.