The Queerest [🗸]

epilogue n extras

I mean, it's fucking beautiful. The type of place where you could wear a cottage core-esque dress and a flower crown as you ran along the sand because, really, that's all you need in life.

So, it's an escape.

A beautiful, salty scented, wide expanse of beach escape.

Evelyn and Riya have been long distance for a year, an entire twelve months. But they own it. They always have each other, love each other so fiercely that you can feel the power residing beneath their bond.

Rock solid, that's what they are.

Soren and Damien aren't much different. They're both studying different subjects. Damien's diving into political science and law, Soren's into digital and graphic design, not to mention photography and every other type of art you could conjure.

And even though it's been obvious since about forever, they're in love. It's the type of love that pulls you in and swings you around until you're all in it, no way to escape how fast and how far you're falling.

The type of love where you work hard because shit isn't always a dreamboat, but you know that it's enough for you because that's what it means to love. It means to give if your all and feel like you're enough as you are.

It makes me think of Liyah and her girlfriend, Maddy Wilson. They met during their freshman year at college. They were roommates— utterly script-worthy— and well, the way Liyah explains it is that her heart pounds so fucking hard around Maddy, has since she met her.

But that was just the first glance, you know? The meet-cute. Simple, not utterly surprising. They'd met at the dorms and then they eventually fell. So fucking hard. As in, you could cue the Hayley Kiyoko and King Princess blasting from the speakers because that was them.

When Riya introduced the rest of us Aspen High Queers to her skating trio, we clicked. So, I'm essentially filled on about everything occurring, every update. Like Andre and Skyler.

Now, fuck, that's a type of love. Skyler was themself, utterly and completely themself and had known Andre since they were in middle school. Naturally, Riya claims she saw it coming from a mile away. Either way, they're queer and in love, and when all the queers get together at the skating rink, the sparkle in Andre's eyes as he talks to his partner is literally heart-wrenching.

My feet wade into the ocean, shirt a pale blue, shorts swaying with the breeze. I exhale, my lips twitching as I hear all the sounds around me, the ocean inhaling and exhaling. It's a beautiful melody.

"Hey," and then arms are swung around me as I turn around to meet forest eyes and a lopsided grin.

"Toni," I exhale, and I'm laughing, just because he's here and I love him. And loving someone is a pretty feeling to have.

"Blue," he echoes my tone, swings his arms around my neck, mine slung around his waist. And I want to say it. But I'm not sure how to. His smile is so wide and genuine and pretty, his cerulean hair in curls.

Before I can say anything else, though, I'm tackled.

At least, someone deadass pounces onto me. But it's more than one, possibly two, possibly three. I'm laughing. 

I'm nineteen today.

"Happy birthday," and I'm not sure who's saying it. Maybe it's my boyfriend of exactly a year or the brown skinned bisexual or the Latina lesbian or the chaotic gay or the intellectual-ass bi. Because they're all here.