Doomed (Fransykes)

Forest

Quickly moving towards the storm
Moving forward, torn
Into pieces over reasons
Of what these storms are for
I don't understand why everything I adore
Takes a different form when I squint my eyes
Have you ever done that?
When you squint your eyes
And your eyelashes make it look a little not right
And then when just enough light
Comes from just the right side
And you find you're not who you're supposed to be?

This is not what you're supposed to see
Please, remember me. I am supposed to be
King of a kingdom or swinging on a swing
Something happened to my imagination
The situation's becoming dire
My treehouse is on fire
And for some reason I smell gas on my hands
This is not what I had planned
This is not what I had planned.

Down in the forest
We'll sing a chorus
Hands held higher,
We'll be on fire
Singing songs that nobody wrote.

~•°•~•°•~•°•~•°•~

"Holy damn," Oliver mumbled. That place was perfection, despite being so close to the city. It was like a hidden Eden; they were in this open field that wasn't so big but it had space enough to fit a crowd. This little open field was surrounded by trees, mainly short ones before they began growing taller the more they distanced themselves from the garden. It held little bushes near the trees, too, little bushes that had little fruits in them, some purple, others red, some unbloomed. And a single tree stood in the middle of the field, so vacant, the leaves gently swaying with the small breeze passing there. But there was something off about that space.

The air held some deep melancholy. Like it knew. It did know. The air held some heaviness and some mournful joyless feelings, hanging off the life in there. The trees understood. The grass did too. They knew their fate, they knew the havoc. And they grieved for the future. They grieved visibly, and they seemed to weep harder the further those teens entered that space. But at the same time, they brought comfort. At the same time it held deep sorrow, it held some sort of peace.

Because not only they knew the struggles they would bring but they knew the end. They were consoling. They were reassuring because they knew they would bring terror to life but they knew that they would watch it bloom. They knew that those two were flowers and they knew they were starting to blossom. They just hoped that the peak was enough.

Joshua could read all those feelings on Oliver's eyes. He could read them and he could relate to them. Oliver brought his gaze to Joshua. For a moment, it was like they understood too. It was like they knew and they had accepted their destiny. For a moment, they were nothing but the air inside that dreadful place. For a moment.

Josh turned his lips up. His smile was almost sad. But it wasn't because it wasn't his time to be sad. No, it was time for curiosity, time to wonder and time to feel.

"It's- it's so..." Oliver couldn't finish. He couldn't say it. He knew what it was, he knew the feelings that place brought but... He couldn't describe them. He saw Joshua's gaze soften even more.

"Sad but beautiful?" Josh asked softly. That wasn't exactly the words for it but yes, it was close enough. Oliver nodded once. Joshua nodded too. And they stood there. They stood there because there was this intuition inside both of them to take that moment and enjoy it. To take that moment and guard it as their sweetest memory. But Oliver was confused about that instinct. He was confused because a part inside of him held some deep desire to flee every time he saw Josh - even if that feeling was starting to die down - and the other was beginning to enjoy his moments with Joshua; Josh treated him normally. Even if Oliver did catch him staring at Oliver weirdly, just like many, but it wasn't as common, it was starting to be less and less frequently. It was like Joshua was starting to accept Oliver even if he could see in his eyes the truth. But Oliver was different. He couldn't see the truth behind Joshua's eyes; only that it was too comforting, too pure. Maybe too pure. He didn't know his true nature, not even his own.