Chapter Text
"I won't give up on us,
Even if the skies get rough.
I'm giving you all my love;
I'm still looking up."
- I Won't Give Up, by Jason Mraz.
Mine.
The rays of sunlight shine through the window, and fall on me. I can feel the warmth over my exposed skin, so soothing, like a lover's embrace. My sheets cover my bare body up to my waist, so that my torso is exposed to the light.
I blink and open my eyes.
It gets a little blurry, and my heart skips a beat.
But after blinking twice, my vision focuses again, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I see the heavy beams of bright, yellow light streaming in to the room. When my eyes focus a little more, I see bits of dust floating up, up, and up... till they vanish. The sight is mesmerizing, as I stare at them constantly, and I realize how thankful I am to be able to witness this. It’s just some dust particles, one would say. But to me, it proves my ability to finally see.
It’s been several months since I got my sight back. The world had become entirely new to me, with all the new, foreign colors and textures I could finally see - all at once. It was amazing to see the world in a whole new perspective, but it was also over-whelming; it felt as if just yesterday the world was dark for me, and now its awake and alight, filled with beauty I hadn't seen before. Now I can finally look at the things I used to let my imagination perceive - I can look at flowers, the sky, the sea, dandelions, people...
I can finally see my lover, too. Jean.
The thought makes my heart flutter; when I first got my sight, I remember how the mere look of him reduced me to tears, because he was so beautiful - with his brass-colored hair, sharp features, and golden eyes, he was truly mesmerizing. And the pure look of love he had looked at me with... The thought makes my eyes watery; I can never get enough of him.
He had helped me ever since; he held me when I felt overwhelmed, he laughed with me in my small victories, he smiled when I saw a dandelion for the first time, and he loved me to bits when we made love - me seeing in to his eyes for the first time, while his were clouded with lust.
Just on cue, I hear a grumble from behind me. I feel a pair of warm, thin arms encircle my bare waist, pulling me in to a tight embrace.
I smile, knowing how snugly one person gets in the morning.
I turn to look over my right shoulder. I see a mop of blonde hair only. I laugh despite myself, and knock my forehead against it.
Finally, Jean rests his chin on my shoulder, eyes still sticky with sleep. His hair is far from the word "tidy"; cowlicks were standing up everywhere, and it was all I could do to control myself from bursting with laughter. And yet he's still half-asleep...
I kiss his nose lightly, and say "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."
His nose wrinkles slightly, but then he just mumbles something incoherently. He's such a heavy sleeper, I think to myself.
I kiss him softly on his lips - moving slowly, enjoying his supple lips; I've lost count of the number of times I've kissed him, but every time I do makes me as jittery as my first time did. He's that intoxicating, I've noticed. It just makes it all the more special.
Deep inside me, I feel a bit of pride light up; he's mine. He will always be mine. And I'm his, because he loves me. He would say it when we'd have breakfast, he would scream it atop the cliff, he would whisper it against my skin, and he had made me believe it - that I'm his, and he is mine.
These thoughts rush in my mind and being driven by a strange force, I pull Jean on top me, and I kiss him firmly, pouring every ounce of affection I have for him, in to that kiss. Jean replies with equal fervor, as he places both his hands against the sides of my neck, tracing my freckled skin with his fingertips.
By then, he's wide awake, and I smile against his lips as he nibbles on my lower lip softly - knowing that it drives me crazy. My hands run up and down his bare back lovingly, kissing him slowly, taking my time to map him - to memorize him.
"Not tired, even after last night, are you?" He asks me, still smiling.
I shake my head, kissing his lips once more. He rests our foreheads together, and finally opens his eyes sleepily.
"G'morning." he mumbles, smiling lazily. God, I'm so lucky to have him as mine.
"And to you as well," I whisper, as I cuddle with him warmly - my arms tight around his waist, his chest flush against mine. I dig my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his lemon-grass scent that he always had, since day one. We lay on our sides now, as content as we could possibly be. He throws a leg across my hips, sighing softly at my kisses, running his fingers through my hair.
"You're a hopeless romantic; did you know that, Marco?"
"Shut up, Jean."
He chuckles, kissing the crown of my head lovingly, before wrapping his arms around me tightly, rubbing hands slowly up and down my back, in soothing circles.
Everything feels so perfect right now - I can't help but think;
I'm so desperately in love with Jean.
We stay perfectly still like that, before Jean says, "Hey, Marco..."
I lift my head to look up at him, waiting for him to speak.
"How about we go to the cliff?"
I stare up at him, before asking, "Is there something bothering you-?"
"No, no," he cuts me off, explaining further: "It’s just... It's been some time since we went there, so I just figured if we could, for a while..."
Smiling softly, I whisper against his skin, "Yeah. I'd like that."
He nods slowly. After a few moments, he trails his hands more slowly, taking his time to map my back - dotted with light freckles - as well as he could. The way he could turn from dynamic, to subtle, is something I'll never figure out. Goosebumps start prickling my skin, and my skin heats up as his fingers ghost over my skin, leaving a trail of fire behind.
Then he tilts my head away from his neck, and kisses me softly once more, before staring in to my eyes. He cards his fingers through my hair again, his fingers rubbing soothing circles in my scalp. I sigh breathily, as he tugs a bit. The smallest of smirks graces his face.
He licks his lips slowly, before asking, "I hope you won't mind Round Two, huh?" He bites his lip, before rolling his hips in to mine ever so slightly - enough to light me up.
I swallow a shaky moan, and say, "Never the one to give up, hm?" I smile cheekily at him, as I roll my hips in to his, to make him swear under his breath shakily. We both are rock hard by now.
His smirk grows, and his eyes start to cloud again. He shifts and straddles my hips, a sigh escaping our lips. He takes my hands, and threads his fingers through mine, pinning me down on the bed, and God, the things he can do to me.
He bends down, and whispers, "You'll enjoy this. I promise, Bodt." Then, in a moment, he crashes his lips against mine, us drinking each other's muffled moans, and I lose myself in his aura all over again.
By the time Round Two was over, it struck 12 PM. It's a Saturday morning, and so Jean does not have to go to work. Thus, we decide to spend most of our day outside. We eat some breakfast, before leaving Jean's house for the cliff. I wore a white button-down shirt, with some jeans, while Jean wore a dark blue shirt over dark jeans, his sleeves pulled up till his elbows.
I had sold my house, as I hardly ever stayed there ever since Jean entered my life. It’s much more comfortable in his house, where he plays the piano for me whenever he feels like it – or at times he’d teach me how to play it; where we'd cook for each other whenever we could, or we would just lay on his couch for hours on end, and it was then that I understood what it meant for a person's arms to become a sanctuary for someone.
He was mine, after all.
We silently pass tall, green trees, and pale, almost identical houses. Jean revived all colors for me after I had gotten my sight, so it was not hard for me to decipher shades anymore. Children play noisily around the colorful swings in their lawns, bright flowers growing along the edges. The otherwise-dull pavement glowed under the sunlight, I notice. The scent of freshly-cut grass is thick in the air, and the sound of breathless laughter makes me smile.
I chance a glance at Jean, who's looking forward; he's driving intently, as his eyebrows scrunched at his forehead in utter concentration, but I notice something underneath it all...
It’s almost as if he's thinking of something. It's his habit to become unusually quiet whenever he's in a pensive mood. It did not suit him.
I nudge his arm, as I ask, "Hey, love. What's wrong?"
He looks at me, surprised, but then laughs, as he replies, "Heh, nothing, nothing. I’m just thinking."
"Sure?"
He looks at me, before reaching for my hand. He squeezes my fingers within his warmly, as he reassures me, "Of course, love." He smiles - his large, toothy grin that I fall for every time.
I smile back, relieved to see him happy. But still, that moment still bugs me.
Nevertheless, by that time, we reach the cliff. Jean parks the car next to a tree, and we step outside.
The scent of nature always captures me whenever I step here; it’s so natural, so perfect. But the very next thing that captures me is the view; with my sight, I had looked over this very cliff days ago, and had shamelessly shed a tear or two out of sheer happiness. I silently take in the whole scenery around me - the thick, green grass, dotted with delicate, white dandelions, and the rocky, moss-covered cliffs that lay beyond me; it never ceased to amaze me, like it did the first time.
I step ahead of Jean, jogging up to the edge. I look over the blue, sparkling sea that lay below the two gigantic cliffs that jutted out like fangs, cutting through the waves below. The Sun is high up in the sky, and it threw its rays on the glittering expanse. It shone like diamonds, with a tinge of blue. The sea spread far and wide, dotted with little islands, till it ended abruptly right at the edge. Standing up here, being able to trace the edge of the world with my finger... It makes me feel as if the world is mine. It makes me feel tall and powerful.
But then, seeing the sea lying beyond me, far and wide, continuing on even beyond where my eyes could not reach, it also makes me realize how huge the world is; and how small we really are. An odd paradox, I think to myself.
I contemplate the endless answers of this very paradox, as the cool, salty breeze runs over me, ruffling my clothes. I feel Jean's absence all of a sudden. I turn around, only to see him standing against the car, smiling at me quietly.
I arch an eyebrow, as I ask, "Uh, Jean?"
He shakes his head, laughing softly, as he replies, "Nothing, I just..." He sighs, and says, so softly the wind could have picked his speech away: "I just like watching you, being this happy."
I lose concentration for a moment, because of the simple fact that left his lips so effortlessly: he enjoys me being happy. If that does not make me the happiest - and the luckiest - person alive, I don't know what would.
I feel a weird, fluttery feeling bubbling inside of me, and I don't think it was just happiness.
Regardless, I hold out my right hand, waiting for him to approach me and wrap his fingers around mine, his presence next to mine - the way it was always meant to be.
He quietly straightens himself, and makes his way towards me. As his feet touch the dotted dandelions, the wind that blew along scatters the numerous seeds all at once; a white cloud of seeds flies, circling around Jean as the wind twisted and turned. He chuckles lightly, catching a handful of dandelions in his hands in mid-air. I could have stared at him like that - happy, smiling, peaceful - for as long as I could.
He takes my outstretched hand, wrapping his fingers around mine warmly, before wrapping his other arm around my waist, hugging me close to him. He stares at me, tipping his head back a little - he was an inch shorter than me, I had noticed - just silently running his eyes over my face. A few of the dandelion seeds are stuck in his hair, and the way his amber eyes glow under the sunshine, how closely he was looking... I could practically melt under that loving gaze. Its here that I deduce just how beautiful he is.
I kiss him softly, before placing my head on his, both of us enjoying the silence that ensued, moving to and fro like the waves below us. Sometimes, silent moments were the ones worth treasuring, more than words that would drift away our lips, getting lost within the folds of time.
I gaze at the cliffs and sea again; the white cloud of dandelion seeds had drifted away from us, and now floated far and far away, till all it became was just a speck across the intricately colorful canvas. The rays of sunshine that peeked behind thick clouds time to time illuminated everything that lay beyond, and for a second, I could have sworn I could see every color that ever existed, all in just one glance - the green hills, the blue sea, the white clouds, everything. And I couldn't help but think...
"God must be an artist." I say to no one in particular.
Jean catches my thought, though, and leans up to look at me: "Huh?"
I shake my head, as I repeat, "I said God must be an artist; why else would He create all these colors?"
Jean stays quiet for a while, eyebrows scrunched in concentration, before he smiled a little, quite amazed.
"Damn, Marco..." He says, wrapping his arms around my neck, "You're just something else."
I chuckle, nudging my nose against his, before kissing him again, and again, and again, and so easily I lose myself in his depths all over again.
After staying there for a little while longer - enjoying our own little world - till our stomachs grumbled. We made our way to the coffee shop where we officially hung together for the first time. The squeaky-voiced waitress takes our orders once more - she was a blonde, petite lady, with shining, gentle blue eyes, along with a sparkling smile, and her name-tag spelled "Christa". As she brought our sandwiches, we gobble them up. All the while, I notice Jean zoning out more than once while eating, his eyes on me, but not exactly looking.
I prod him on and on about something bothering him, but he wouldn't budge - and that made me worry even more.
Seeing my worry being evident, Jean reasons, "Love, its okay. I'm just thinking about the job, and all..." He ends almost thoughtfully, as he eats another mouthful of his sandwich. I try to shrug the thought away - his job can get difficult for him at times, so it must be reasonable. But still, a tinge of worry clings to me.
After our food, we thank the waitress, and make our towards the park. As the traffic stops for people to cross the road, Jean holds my hand and squeezes it. I peek at him, and see a little smile playing at his lips - it was here that they met for the first time, after all. It was here that our stars decided to cross, and stay tangled forever.
I look around the park as we enter; children play happily around bright swings, while their parents sat on benches, or set up their picnics. Jean and I make our way to the more secluded - more silent - place to sit and relax in. We make our way towards a green patch of grass, sloping down to meet the edge of a pond, the blue surface rippling slightly with the soft breeze that blows. A huge tree shades a bench, it's pink flowers scattered over the wooden surface.
I brush them away, making space for me and Jean, until I see him standing a few feet away from me, staring at me - again, in that pensive, worried way, that made me uncomfortable.
"Um, Jean, what-"
"I want to show you something."
He cut me off with that statement, and it makes me stare at him even more worriedly. I ask again, "Jean, are you sure you're okay-"
"Yes, I am fine, I just- I'll be back quick, I have to show you this thing"
He says his reasoning quickly, steps on his tip toes to kiss my cheek, before running in the opposite direction.
I just simply stare at his running figure, positively shocked; one minute he was perfectly fine, and the next minute he decides to show me something. But what? I should be feeling happy, or excited, at the least, but the way he'd zone out only makes me worry even more.
Deeming worrying as a useless option, I decide to wait. I sit on the bench, and stare at the pond in front of me, waiting. I pick a flower from next to me, and start tracing its smooth, pink petals to calm my nerves down. I chew at my lip, fretting again and again, wondering uselessly about all the possible outcomes - each being worse than the last.
It wasn't long before Jean came running back, his hands behind his back, as he stands in front of me. I stand immediately, asking him, "Jean, you don't seem fine at all-"
"Remember when you said 'God must be an artist'?" he asks, in a very timid, yet soft voice.
My eye-brows raise at the sudden change of topic. I nod slowly in reply.
He visibly gets himself together, squaring his shoulders, before he says: "So, I wanted to show you something..."
He steps up in front of me, and lifts my right hand. Then he presses something cool against my palm, not leaving his eyes off of me once. I hold the little sphere in my hand, inspecting it.
It was crystal clear, with many edges cut at it's surface, like a diamond. But there were too many to count. I hold it between my forefinger and thumb, inspecting it closely. It was beautiful, but...
"This is my mom's crystal." Jean explains, answering my question beforehand. He continues, "She loved collecting precious things when she was young, and this was her most treasured item. See, let me show you."
He holds my hand - holding the crystal - and lifts it up to the sunlit sky. As soon as the crystal mirrored the position of the Sun, something amazing happens; all at once, every kind of color shoots from the crystal - red, blue, indigo, green - as if every color known to Man was held within the confines of those transparent, crystalline walls. They all scattered from the numerous faces of the crystal, spreading it's hues on our skin - funnily, my hand was now a shade of purple and red.
I laugh despite myself, clearly amazed; I twist and turn the crystal, and from every face, a different hue reflected, and all I'm doing is smiling like an idiot.
Jean explains further: "It scatters light in to all of it's colors, and my mom loved that. She loved that something so seemingly plain can do something so amazing. It made her think the same about people.
When you said that God must be an artist, this instantly came in my mind." He chuckles, looking at me, and says, "God must be an artist, come to think of it. He could have kept the world black and white, and we'd still be better off. But God must have loved colors, to have made them. So I want you to have this, to prove it to yourself, and to remind you that... That anything simple can do anything amazing."
I gape at him like a fish, speechless; the crystal did not mean as much as his beautifully-structured words did. And he said it with such meaning, that I instantly believe in every single syllable he breathed. It is all too much - and my heart being a weak thing - I feel tears prickle at my eyes.
I sniff, and mumble, "But it's your mother's-"
"My mother is old enough to have forgotten she ever had it," he chuckles, before adding: "And besides, she had given it to me when I was small. So I want you to have it, Marco."
He folds my fingers around the crystal, gripping it firmly. I fear if I open my mouth I'll just fall in to a puddle of tears, so I just nod and stare at the crystal in my palm, throwing a pale shade of red across my palm. I smile at it.
As I glance up at Jean, I see him staring at me. Not pensively, this time. It was with something else... Something I could not exactly pin point.
Before I could ask, he speaks up: "Marco, the reason I was so lost and spacey today was because some things were on my mind, and fuck it all, I'm just gonna voice them out right now, or else I'll go crazy. I wanted this to be scripted, but fuck it."
He inhaled, and exhaled, calming himself. He backs up a few steps, wrapping his fingers in to fists, and proceeds:
"I still remember the first time I saw you; you were standing there, tall and patient, even when those assholes were making fun of you. But I saw something in you, just- just, just so different, I felt like I had to know you, I had to talk to you. You just stood out from the rest, from day one. Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were something special.
Then I got to know you after some conversations, and God, was I right. I found myself falling for you harder and harder, because you were smart, funny, kind and perfect. I've been around a lot of assholes, and knowing a person like you could exist, I fell in love with life. I was so thankful to have met you."
He smiles slightly, before continuing:
"And then we kissed, and Marco, I still remember how you looked at the cliff. You looked so ecstatic and content, and just plain happy, and it made me want you even more - for me, and only me. I craved you fuckin' greedily, I'll admit it."
Then, he does something that sucks the air right out of me: he kneels down one knee, his eyes not leaving me once. I cover my mouth with my hand, but Jean continues:
"And now, Marco Bodt, I'll confess; I want you for me, and I want you to be mine forever and ever - I don't care how fucking cliche it sounds, but I want you. Because you're the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I'm willing to thank Fate and the stars and all that cosmic shit that made us cross each other's paths. I'll look past any of your flaws and your mistakes because I'll never give up on you - on us..."
He pats his jeans, before pulling out a black velvet box from behind him. As he opens it, tears start prickling my eyes. His eyes are glistening with tears of his own, as he says:
"I love you, Marco, and so after my poorly-constructed speech and horribly-cliched phrases, I ask: will you marry me?"
Tears are flooding down my cheeks as I stare at the ring in the box; it was a plain, silver band, glinting under the sunlight, and oh my God, Jean Kirschtein is proposing to me and I see him holding back tears too as he's awaiting my answer-
"Y-yes." I whisper, my voice shaky.
Jean's face breaks in to a huge grin - so wide it could have split his face - and he's letting tears run down his face, mirroring mine. He's still on his knee. He laughs, and sniffles, before reaching for my left hand, slipping the cool ring around my ring finger - the way a prince would do.
I don't inspect the ring on my hand, because I have enough time to do that on my own - with him. I choose to stare at his beaming face, both of us crying, both of us happy, both of us together.
The prospect of a 'forever' makes me cry even harder; me and Jean, together. We were together all this long, but now we'll be married. We'll adopt children and we'll take them to school and we'll play with them and we might fight or fall in between, but knowing he's willing to put up with me makes me love him even more.
He stands up and wipes away my tears, and all I do is replace them with more tears. I clutch at his shirt and pull him in to my embrace, kissing him fiercely. Jean locks his arms around my neck, and pulls me deeper and deeper in to him, whispering soundless love in between us, punctuated with sighs and 'I love you's against each other's lips.
I'm sobbing, and I know he's sobbing too, and I hug him tighter against my chest, until the momentum catches us off-balance, and the next thing I know, we're sprawled across the grass, Jean under me.
I hold myself upright by my forearms, and all I can see is Jean - he's breathless with laughter, and his cheeks are colored a glowing pink, as tears cut across his cheeks, leaving stains, and his amber eyes glittered with fresh ones. The only thing that runs in my mind is how much I've fallen for him, and I say the first thing that comes in my mind:
"I'm desperately in love with you, Jean."
Jean stops laughing, and tears vanish from his eyes. He smiles a little, before pulling me in to him, kissing my lips softly. He didn't have to say it; that gentle gesture made me believe he meant the same for me.
After a while of staying sprawled in the grass, side-by-side, Jean grins. I give him a questioning look, to which he replies;
"So this means you're okay with the name, 'Marco Bodt Kirschtein?'" He waggles his eyebrows in the end to prove his point.
I laugh, rolling my eyes. I kiss his cheek, as I say, "We'll discuss those terms later." Jean laughs at that, and hugs me tightly, not letting me go.
We stay sprawled over the grass - now on our backs - till the Sun vanished behind the horizon, and the sky started getting dark, revealing the first few stars, and we spent out time staring at the changing sky, with our hands tangled tightly. As the sky grew a deep pink, I feel his finger tracing the ring in my left hand, and then I begin contemplating the prospect of 'forever' with Jean Kirschtein, and how happy I was to be a part of it.