A lot like doomed love of eight years.
Which doesn’t serve any purpose either. It’s dismal and useless. Bleak.
And yet so fucking beautiful.
Just because the one you love is in love with someone else doesn’t mean your love isn’t gorgeous or real. It doesn’t mean that your love should be killed or it should be torn out of your heart and thrown into a river or burnt down like an extinct piece of architecture.
No, it’s still love. Like this is still a bridge.
“What the fuck is this place?” Arrow asks distractedly as he looks around, his bike parked on one side.
I watch him under the moon, all sparkly and glowy.
His hair’s all messy and sticking up in places after he took off the helmet – he gave me his spare one – and his fingers are not helping things. He rakes them through the strands, messing them up even more, making him look the most stunning that I’ve ever seen him.
“Do you like it?” I ask, smiling, feeling warm and cozy in his jacket, that I unzipped during the ride because his proximity was hot enough, and loving it.
At my words, he focuses on me.
I’m by the railing, gripping the metal rod, using it to stretch back my spine.
He takes me in, my slightly swaying form, before settling his gaze on my hair. It’s fluttering in the breeze and it’s so long that if I stretch myself back even more and go parallel to the ground, it’ll touch the dirt. I’ve tried it before; it’s fun.
Finally, he looks up from his perusal of me. “Do I like it?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Yes.”
“What’s there to like?”
Straightening up, I gasp. “Are you serious?”
His lips twitch. “As a heart attack.”
I shake my head at him and his amused lips. “God, you’re so… unimaginative. This is my favorite place in the world. I used to come here all the time when I rode my pretty yellow bicycle, which I totally miss doing, but anyway. Look at the water.” I stick my hand in the air and point to the water. I actually turn around myself to look at it. “It’s shimmering under the moonlight. It’s sparkling. And it’s so vast. It’s the only thing your eyes can see. And look at the moon.” I point with my hand again. “It’s so red. Like a fireball or something. I bet it’s hot. Like the sun. And the woods.” I turn to point to the woods as well.“So dense and mysterious and wild. Everything is so pretty here. Raw and natural and stunning.”
It is.
The glinting dark water, the fat red moon and the thick bramble of woods.
Biting my lip, I turn to look at him again. Or at least try to, because somewhere in my twisting and turning, my feet slip and I stumble. My arms sort of flail and I manage to grab hold of the railing to stop my fall, but turns out I shouldn’t have bothered.
Because he is here.
My Arrow. My friend.
He comes to my rescue, grabbing my bicep and pulling me up. He even sets me against the railing, all within three seconds.
“You have –”
I raise my finger and shake my head, cutting him off. “Uh-uh. You can’t say anything mean to me now.”
“Why?”
He looks really bothered about that and I want to laugh at his disgruntled expression. “Because you’re my friend now. You have to be nice to me.”
His eyes flick back and forth between mine. “Is that right?”
Nodding, I smile. “Yes. In fact, that’s the first rule of friendship. Be nice.” I go up on my tiptoes to get closer to his face. “And for a rule-follower such as yourself, it shouldn’t be too hard, should it?”
