Here Comes The Sun

twenty

july 17th
toronto

    WHEN I ENTERED THE HOUSE, NEATLY DRESSED MEN AND WOMEN EXITED THE IT. They were all either suited up, or looking pretty in expensive dresses, and it looked like they had just ended a very important meeting. Hart was located at the end of the hallway, warm-heartedly saying each person that passed goodbye. Once they were all gone, he got rid of the jacket of his grey suit by casually throwing it into the corner of the living room he had just walked to, and I watched his muscular back in the white shirt disappear around the corner. I followed him like a small, lost puppy and he turned around to me, unbuttoning the sleeve buttons and carefully rolling them up.

    "Nova," he said with such a low voice, it made shivers go down my spine, "would you like something to drink?"

    I shook my head, a little overwhelmed by how good he looked in those trousers.

    "Oh, I forgot the tie," he said, trying to undo his tie, but clearly not succeeding. With a guilty smile, he looked down at me. "Can you give me a hand?"

    I walked closer to him, reaching out to undo his tie and in the meantime enjoying breathing in his cologne. My eyes accidentally wandered off to his face, our gazes crossing, and my heart jumped. My hands started working slower when he didn't break the eye contact, and there was no way I could still focus on the tie. His eyes possessed the special ability to enchant me any time I looked into them, and just like Medusa, it turned me into stone. The world around us would fade away, and he would be the only one in the universe. Him and me. Just us and the golden wire connected between our hearts, that was what our bond felt like to me.

    "You . . . need to stop looking at me like that." His voice had gotten all husky, and even lower than before. He exposed a soft rasp which I had never heard before.

    I quickly looked down at his tie and finally undid it, pushing it back into his hands. Just like the jacket, he just threw it somewhere, and I could still feel his eyes burning into my skin. "Are you sure you don't want anything to drink? It's pretty hot outside."

    "I've just had iced coffee, I'm good. Who were all those people?" I took a step back and looked up to him. It was quite intimidating how he towered over me with his muscular, tall body.

    "Just some fella's who are very interested in politics. They used to work with my dad. We had a short meeting about discussing possibilities for me in the future as an acknowledged politician," he casually explained as he walked to the kitchen to grab himself a cold beer. After opening the bottle, he walked back to me and gestured that I could sit on the couch.

    "So you're willing to run for president?" I sat down on the couch, crossing my legs and curiously looking up to him.

    "Yeah, pretty much."

    There were letters spread all over the table, and with a quick glance I immediately recognized the word 'death'. Trying to be as discrete as possible, I took a good look and figured the letters were death threats, pointed at Hart.

    "How can you be so chill about all of this?"

    He shrugged. "If I act all stressed out, everyone in Canada will be stressed out. If I give them the illusion that everything's going to be fine — which it is — then they'll feel much safer. Right now, the citizens aren't directly the ones in danger if they just behave themselves and don't start demonstrating against Four Zero Nine."

    "And what if it isn't going to be fine?"

    "Then I'll die in another terrorist attack and someone else will take my place to fight against Four Zero Nine. Nova, what brought you here?" He sipped from his beer, and my eyes were fixated onto the bottle being lifted up to touch his lips, and down.

    "I saw you on the news and I just wanted to check up on you."

    He laughed, reaching for the remote on the table and hitting a few buttons. "Sometimes I forget that I have a babysitter."

    As expected, music immediately came from the speakers. This time, it was La Vie En Rose, but in a jazzy tone. When a male started singing the lines, I realized it was Louis Armstrong. He watched my reaction to this masterpiece of a song closely, and when he caught the smile around my mouth, he started smiling as well. I looked back at him, the golden, electric wire automatically growing out of my heart, connecting to his. His face came closer to mine, and I closed my eyes, ready for the kiss I had been longing for for so long, but then all of the sudden he jumped off the couch and reached out his arm. Confusedly, I gently grabbed his arm and he pulled me up, neatly catching me in his arms when I lost balance because of his strength. One of his hands traveled down to my lower back where it supported me, while the other one grabbed my hand. He skillfully shuffled from right to left, dancing with me in a rather old-fashioned way to the jazz music.

    "You're not telling me you can't dance, right?" he asked.

    "I don't really ever dance," I confessed.

    "I'm disabled and even I can dance. Come on, I'll help you." He carefully planned out his moves, minding mine. We perfectly moved together to the beat of the music, and when I was going in the same tempo as he was, he let go of my hand and placed it right beside his other hand on my back. I rested mine against his chest, just like my head.

    We danced for about twenty seconds, until I felt him looking down at me. In response, I looked up at him and after having the slightest bit of eye contact, he slowly brought his head closer to mine and closed his eyes in the process. When his lips touched mine, fireworks exploded in my body. When you kiss me heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose.