It All Started With A Kiss

XIV. (Part One)

Chapter Fourteen

I took time to browse the local events, hoping to find something that piqued his interest. That’s when I stumbled upon an exciting concert titled "The Fifths." The first half would feature Beethoven's iconic Fifth Symphony, and the second half promised a stirring rendition of Tchaikovsky's Fifth. I could already envision the mixture of emotions flowing through the audience as these timeless pieces filled the air.

When I first suggested we get together on Friday to attend, his reaction was a bit lukewarm—an underwhelming response that left me uncertain. However, the moment I mentioned the tickets, his demeanor transformed dramatically. He lit up with enthusiasm and joy, reminiscent of a little boy about to embark on a thrilling trip to the circus. It was heartwarming to see that spark of excitement in him.

Later that evening, he stopped by my place after dinner, his face still aglow with anticipation of the concert. The idea of sharing this musical experience had clearly struck a chord with him, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of joy knowing that I had found something he would truly enjoy.

We shared a lovely kiss.

"Thank you so much for finding this concert. Everybody knows Beethoven's Fifth, but I love the Tchaikovsky." He bubbled with excitement.

"I know how you can thank me."

A nice long kiss.

"Dinner at the dorm was vile tonight, but it is paid for."

"That's the curse of the food pass," I said

"They must have a special school to learn how to make food that bad. I've royally screwed up recipes that wound up tasting better than that."

"Well, tomorrow, we'll get you a respite."

"You sure know how to take care of a guy."

Yes, I did take the plunge. Honestly, I was surprised at myself because this was a journey I had never consciously chosen to embark on before. There was something instinctual about it as if a hidden part of me was awakening for the first time. When I picked up the tickets for Jackson, I did so with the certainty that he would absolutely revel in the experience, allowing me to endure it alongside him. I was preparing myself to attend a concert brimming with the thunderous sounds of metal, a far cry from the smooth melodies of brass bands that I was used to. This was an adventure into the unknown, a challenge I felt compelled to take, not just for him, but to explore a side of myself that remained uncharted until now.

Beethoven’s music was something I had heard before—it had been transformed into a catchy, popular song that I couldn’t quite place—but Tchaikovsky’s compositions truly captivated me. His pieces were bursting with passion and energy, their dynamics swelling and ebbing in a way that ultimately drew me in, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next, even when I thought it had reached a conclusion. I had never expected to find enjoyment in classical music; it was a genre I had never explored. Beside me, Jackson was fully immersed in the experience, humming along with a smile on his face, bouncing up and down in his seat with uncontainable enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but think about my friends. They would have likely found my newfound appreciation for this genre amusing, perhaps even worthy of ridicule, but I didn’t care at that moment. The music had struck a chord within me that I never knew existed. I found it endearing and arousing. I took him home and had my way with him.