Agony
Redemption
My feet were taking me closer and closer to him, cutting across the small sea of people traveling across the street. I veered inwards to the people, and somehow it felt as if they were clearing out of my way. Or maybe my hands were just pushing them out of the way, desperate hands and desperate feet carrying me towards Oliver.
I wanted this so bad. And ten minutes ago, before I had seen his face because of pure coincidence, wanting Oliver was always that distant, forbidden thought in my mind. The thought that I always knew was there, lurking and waiting to be obsessed over. I wouldn’t let myself though. I kept it in the dark, safeguarding the memories that only were, the memories that would never again be present tense. Never did I admit to myself that I wanted him again.
His head of brown hair bobbed up and down, weaving in and out of visibility while he pried through people as well.
And then he was before me.
I stared at him; he stared at me.
Inches were only between us, people brushing against our backs, shoulders, elbows. We were so in the way, and yet we had never been concerned with inconvenience.
Instinctively my hands had reached out, silence fell between us as the only noises being made came from cars and other people. His nose was still red and a tear fell. My hands felt his face, running down to his neck, feeling over the tattoos that hadn’t been there so long ago.
I felt his hands come up to my face, pushing back my hair behind my ear. A smile barely tickled the corner of his lips. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to give into it or not.
There was so much to be said.
My fingers traced his lips; lips I used to know. Lips capable of solving any pain, any bad day. There was nothing Oliver couldn’t do.
Amazing me would always be the thing he did best.
“What are you…. Why are you….” I attempted, trying to mumble a few words while my eyes swam into his, getting lost in the swift current of his pupils.
But he didn’t say anything. And I didn’t say anything.
The only thing I could do was feel his hands on me; the rest of the world around us nonexistent while five years of absence in each other’s lives were put back into place. Of all places, it happened in the middle of the street. In the middle of everyone else’s lives, we were introduced back into each other’s. We were welcomed back, the way our hands explored the other’s face displaying the way we had missed each other. The animalistic emotion of missing someone so terribly that words can’t be exchanged; that the only possible option is to show the other you care by touching them; by getting as physically close to them as you can to remind them that you never wanted them to leave in the first place.
How I never wanted him to leave in the first place.
I wanted this so bad. And ten minutes ago, before I had seen his face because of pure coincidence, wanting Oliver was always that distant, forbidden thought in my mind. The thought that I always knew was there, lurking and waiting to be obsessed over. I wouldn’t let myself though. I kept it in the dark, safeguarding the memories that only were, the memories that would never again be present tense. Never did I admit to myself that I wanted him again.
His head of brown hair bobbed up and down, weaving in and out of visibility while he pried through people as well.
And then he was before me.
I stared at him; he stared at me.
Inches were only between us, people brushing against our backs, shoulders, elbows. We were so in the way, and yet we had never been concerned with inconvenience.
Instinctively my hands had reached out, silence fell between us as the only noises being made came from cars and other people. His nose was still red and a tear fell. My hands felt his face, running down to his neck, feeling over the tattoos that hadn’t been there so long ago.
I felt his hands come up to my face, pushing back my hair behind my ear. A smile barely tickled the corner of his lips. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to give into it or not.
There was so much to be said.
My fingers traced his lips; lips I used to know. Lips capable of solving any pain, any bad day. There was nothing Oliver couldn’t do.
Amazing me would always be the thing he did best.
“What are you…. Why are you….” I attempted, trying to mumble a few words while my eyes swam into his, getting lost in the swift current of his pupils.
But he didn’t say anything. And I didn’t say anything.
The only thing I could do was feel his hands on me; the rest of the world around us nonexistent while five years of absence in each other’s lives were put back into place. Of all places, it happened in the middle of the street. In the middle of everyone else’s lives, we were introduced back into each other’s. We were welcomed back, the way our hands explored the other’s face displaying the way we had missed each other. The animalistic emotion of missing someone so terribly that words can’t be exchanged; that the only possible option is to show the other you care by touching them; by getting as physically close to them as you can to remind them that you never wanted them to leave in the first place.
How I never wanted him to leave in the first place.