dedicated to you for reading and supporting this story. you're beautiful as hell inside and out and don't let anyone tell you otherwise ily.

l u k e


I believe in miracles.

It could happen to a cancer patient who was said to only live one more week but end up recovering and living the rest of his life happily. It could happen to a homeless man doing the best he can to be able to eat everyday and end up winning the lottery. It could happen to anyone in this world, and I'm lucky enough to have it happening to me. And my miracle is Eleanor Matthews.

Not in a million years have I ever pictured Eleanor in my room while flipping through my dad's old cassette tapes. But there she is, with her hair up in a high ponytail and her hips faintly swaying along to the beat of No One Else by Weezer. I smile at her. Just her mere presence instantly makes everything okay. My heart is beating so loud in my chest that I think it might burst anytime soon.

Eleanor's been with me through my whole endeavour. She's been visiting me every night for a week since that night she suddenly knocked on our front door while I was as magnificent as ever in my penguin pajamas. Her endless thoughts and the endless things to admire about her keep my mind occupied from my horrible life. My mom's still at the hospital, but thankfully, she's holding up. She's almost stable and I think they're getting ready to discharge her. And the first thing I'll do is hug her when she gets back. The second thing is introducing Eleanor to her. It'll be the best sight ever once they're together—two of my most favourite girls in the world in one living room, seated on one couch, and talking about a million things that could come to their mind.

"Wow, you have really good music taste," she murmurs as she scans the rest of the tapes.

I type something on her iPhone and let Siri say it out loud. "They're my dad's."

Eleanor's smile widens and she puts the tapes down. "There are pieces of your dad in each and every one of these cassette tapes. And I love that about personal belongings—you leave a piece of yourself in it. Whether it be a teddy bear or even your favourite sock. It's fascinating."

"You leave a mark on everything in this world. There's a part of you in this room. There's a part of you in that tree house. There's a part of you in me." I put the phone down on the bed and approach her. I hug her and she takes the pleasure of nuzzling her face in the crook of my shoulder. I've been hugging her a lot lately. Yes, I want to kiss her whenever I get near her, but I just don't think now's the time. I'm waiting for the proper moment where everything is absolutely perfect. People completely overlook first kisses and see it as nothing but a ticket you could give to anyone. That ticket being a gateway to your mouth. I see it as a basis. It'll be my very first, and it'll be my best. And in the future, if I end up kissing somebody else, I'll always have in mind that Eleanor Matthews is the best I ever had. But I don't—I can't picture myself with anybody else. So, I want Eleanor Matthews to be my very first and my only.

"Beautiful words coming from a beautiful mouth," Eleanor whispers in my ear. I grin and remove my hands from her waist. I rummage through my drawers and pull out the only thing that served as my companion before Eleanor came along. I hand it over to her and watch as she slowly opens it.

She puts her hand over her mouth in what I assume to be surprise. I watch her eyes. They're watering. I watch her hands. They're trembling. I watch her as a whole. She's just one complete masterpiece. "Luke, I—when? These are amaz—" She chokes out a sob so I shuffle closer to her and cup her cheek with my hand. I wipe the stray tears away with my thumb and plant a kiss on her forehead.

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