I wrote this a rainy Thursday night for a friend. And yes, I deliberately didn't give either of them names, in case anyone was wondering.
They're eyes met across a party. It was dark, and techno music pulses incessantly in the background. Neither fit in, they both knew that within seconds of seeing each other. Him, with his long coat and mysterious allure, and him, sitting by the corner, wishing he was at home with a book. Both young, both confused, both searching for the answers to the questions that plagued the deepest recesses of their minds.
It's beautiful. It always is.
They're lips meeting, knowing the sheer thrill of forbidden pleasure, both loving the excitement and the danger. Electricity danced between them, their eyes burning holes in each other. They moved with the music in the black closet, holding each other close, both knowing how their friends would react, their family. And neither caring. Each one lost in the other.
It's unfair. It always is.
Their tryst discovered, enduring the torment and humiliation. Suddenly friends turned away, and even teachers became cold and distant. Their families sat them both down, explaining to them in patronising tones that this was a phase, a challenge, something to be overcame. Both nodded obediently in acquiescence, both sneering inside.
It's funny. It always is.
Ten years later, a black tie reunion. Them, a lawyer and an academic, holding hands, dressed flawlessly in Armani. The rest, looking on jealously, hands clutching champagne glasses until the knuckles turn white. They smile and glance at each other, triumph playing in their eyes. The same place where they met, only fancier now, and gentle classical music floats through the auditorium. Before they know it they're dancing again, but in the centre of the room now, and all eyes are fixed on them.
It's sad. It always is.
He, the dark and mysterious stranger who captured his heart so many years ago, lies weak and helpless on the hospital bed. Blinking lights and the quiet humming of machinery are in the background. The radio blares out tinny music, the latest pop. They hold hands, both crying. They're lips meet one final time. Then he's gone, and his lover is left alone, never to dance with him again.
It's life.
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