Inhale: Book One (bxb) ✔️
  • Reads 4,107
  • Votes 193
  • Parts 27
  • Time 7h 12m
  • Reads 4,107
  • Votes 193
  • Parts 27
  • Time 7h 12m
Complete, First published Jan 10, 2024
Mature
LANDON LUNA:

College is finally over, and I get to go on a road trip for one month before I enter the real world. Yet, I never expected to see Everest signed up, and more than that, he requested me to be his partner for the trip.

I've known Everest since we were thirteen, but he doesn't remember it. That's okay. I suspect the night we met wasn't a good one for him, and maybe it's best he doesn't remember.

But now we are scouring across the east side of the U.S., and I'm starting to wonder if everything I did for Everest was in the name of something else. Something more meaningful. Something I should have understood sooner.

Damn my brain. It takes me far too long to understand the proper context and even longer to grasp the meaning of my feelings.

I might be in love with him.

Oh, and I was diagnosed with autism a year ago, and I never told anyone. So, there is that.


EVEREST PIERCE:

I love him.

I love Landon Luna without conditions. Without expectations. Without the need for more. And I love him with my entire heart.

I wasn't the nicest person in high school. Not to anyone except the ball of bubbly sunshine. The one who waved at me every single day. But I was a goner the moment he said hello to me in my Junior year of high school when he was partnered with me on a project.

Now, I need to figure out how to keep my feelings on lockdown through this trip.

Because I find myself wanting.

I want him, and I don't know that I am worthy enough to have him.
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Echo of the Past

30 parts Complete Mature

A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.