Some people's love song is happy. It's a tale of dreamy bliss and unconditional love. Other people's love song is sad. It tells of a night spent scrabbling with someone else or a flame that flickered out.
Our love song is different. It's odd, and fast-paced, and awkward, and I hate it.
It started with school. An introduction, some talking, but the only vivid memory I have is that of an eleven-digit code. Then flirting, and whispered taunts, until eventually a party and alcohol and a confession.
And then it was a blur, and parties and more flirting and eventually it was scrambling for zippers and buttons, and very brief moments of thrill.
And then I woke up alone.
And then I'm crying, and then I'm walking. Not to anywhere in particular, just walking.
That's when I realise I'm still crying.
And the ending of our love song?
It's a whispered "Hey, are you okay?" from a guy on Third Avenue.
Some people's love song is happy. It's a tale of dreamy bliss and unconditional love. Other people's love song is sad. It tells of a night spent scrabbling with someone else or a flame that flickered out.
Our love song is different. It's odd, and fast-paced, and awkward, and I'm learning to slowly love it.