SUMMER FEVER

16 | THEN

SUMMER VAN DOREN
12 years ago

Before me and Yves were nothing, we were everything.

We spent our days chasing sunsets and our nights tangled in dreams. The world was our canvas, painted with our laughter and the brushstrokes of our souls intertwined. Every moment was infinite, a universe in itself, pulsating with the energy of our youth and the invincibility of our bond.

We lived for the thrill of discovery, whether it was a hidden beach in the heart of the island or the secrets we uncovered within each other. Together, we balanced on the edge of opportunities, daring the world to tip us over.

But as time flowed like a relentless river, eroding the edges of our idyllic existence, the cracks began to show. Our boundless world began to shrink, confined by the reality we once defied. Dreams gave way to doubts, and the laughter that once filled our days was replaced by silence and unspoken words.

The transition from everything to nothing was sudden at first. Before we knew it, Yves and I stood on opposite shores of a widening abyss. The moments that once defined us became memories, and those memories began to fade, like photographs left too long in the sun. The vibrant colors of our past dulled into sepia tones, hauntingly beautiful but distant.

That evening, I sat by my window, the cool night air whispering through the curtains. The world outside was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a neighbor's dog. Inside, my thoughts were a storm.

I almost didn't hear the faint rustling outside, the soft scrape of shoes against the trellis. But then there he was, Yves, emerging like a ghost from the shadows. His face, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlight, was a mixture of determination and vulnerability. He looked up at me, his eyes pleading for a truce.

It had been four months since we last spoke, ever since our dispute at the beach.

The sight of him standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the sunlight, sent a jolt of surprise through me. His face, usually so familiar, now held a mixture of determination and defenselessness that I hadn't seen before. His eyes pleaded for a truce, but they also carried the weight of our shared past, of the rift that had grown between us in our months of silence.

For a moment, I was at a loss for words, caught between the instinct to push him away and the longing to pull him closer. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken emotions and the weight of our past. And then, with a hesitant nod, I opened the window wider, allowing him to climb in.

"You can't be here," I blurted out, the reality of his sudden appearance crashing over me. "What if my parents find out?"

He shook his head, a small, almost triumphant smile playing on his lips. "I know they won't. Our parents are on the same business trip to France. They'll be gone for the next three days, just like mine."

I blinked, the implications sinking in. "You knew that?"

"Of course," he said softly, stepping closer. "I couldn't leave things the way they were. Not when I had the chance to make it right."

I nodded, feeling the knot in my chest loosen just a bit. "Oh, okay."

He sat on my bed, the proximity both comforting and nerve-wracking. "Can we talk? Really talk?"

We sat side by side, Yves beginning to speak, his words tumbling out in a rush of apologies and explanations. He spoke of his fears, his frustrations, and the love that underpinned it all. I listened, feeling the pieces of our fractured connection begin to mend.

As he finished speaking, a heavy silence settled over us. The air in the room felt thick with unspoken words, a stark contrast to the cool night breeze that fluttered the curtains. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts.