Here Comes The Sun

twenty-six

t h e . h e a r t s . t h a t . c a n t . be . m e n d e d

october 1st
ottawa

    THE GREY MIDDAY CLOUDS HIGH UP THE SKY WERE SWALLOWED UP BY ORANGE ADORNMENT AS THE SUN SLOWLY SINKED BELOW THE HORIZON. The contrast of the red-apple-colored leaves unevenly spread over Ottawa's streets was breathtaking, but maybe that confused me with Hart's presence beside me. He was there, and the world cleared up into candy-cotton commonalties, ever-so sweet and perfect happily colored. But one touch of your mouth, and it'd be gone. His hands entangled in mine as if he was never going to let go, trees surrounding us, the fresh air running up our noses and a calmth overmastering our worrying thoughts. Within the blink of an eye, it'd all be gone, just like the candy cotton. I knew that and most importantly, I felt that — even though he enjoyed his time beside me, he was in two minds about something. Something he thought I wouldn't and couldn't understand.

    "You know what I don't understand?" He broke the silence we had been walking in as he looked down at me, constantly reminding me of the distance between our lips. There was no way I could just kiss him, no, I'd have to get onto my tippy toes and reach for his shoulders to pull him down a bit, and then push my body against his. But that was all worth is.

    "What?" His eyes pierced into mine, his face was all serious, until he broke our eye-contact and looked away, and the corners of his lips curled up. That smile. Typical.

    "You're here. And you're not mad at me," he said while trying his best to suppress his laughter, "if I were you, I'd smack me in the face. And not just a smack, a damn fucking smack. The kind of smack that leaves a red handprint on my cheek, you know. And I'd be like: 'Nova, why would you- you know what, I actually understand it. I'm a dick. A dick with a big di- never mind' I wouldn't say the last sentence, because I'd be too scared you'd smack me again. Even though I deserve it."

    I started laughing. "You know what I don't understand? That you're winning the elections whilst coming up with these sort of anecdotes."

    "Women love 'em," he fancily whipped his non-existing long hair to his back and sent a wink my way, "it makes people feel like I'm just a normal guy, you know. Plain folks propaganda, baby!"

    "You're something else, Hart."

    "No you're something else. In a positive way. Very positive," he wiggled his brows, making himself look like the cutest fool I had ever seen. I squeezed his hands a little as a chuckle escaped my lips.

    "All that attention hasn't changed you," I told him, "you stay true to yourself as you should. It would be a waste of your beautiful personality to let the people change that."

    He stopped walking and grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to him. He slowly shook his head, smiling widely, gleam in his eyes like magic to me. His touch felt, not to be exaggerative, heaven to me. Maybe a bit exaggerative. And just only knowing that he was around me made me feel so safe and nice and dreamy and everything I hadn't been feeling for the past weeks. The wall that I had around me fell down into a thousand pieces of rock, and that vulnerability scared me — I had never opened up to someone like I had to Hart, I had never felt close to someone like I had to Hart, and I was afraid he either knew it or didn't, both cases were bad. If he knew, he'd perhaps take advantage of it, while if he didn't, he'd hurt me without realizing it, because he didn't know. My mind was messed up, because maybe, just maybe, it was because it was the first time I had ever felt love like that. Love for someone I hadn't known my whole life, love for someone I met one day and had honestly had no clue he existed the day before. It was absolutely crazy, and the thought of it drove me nuts. I wished they had taught me in school how to handle love.

    He wrapped his warm hands around my cold cheeks and all he continued to do was look at me. Then I realized tears were filling his eyes.

    "Hey," I worryingly placed my hand on top of his, "what's wrong?"

    "Nothing, I'm just a little bitch," he sniffed, "seriously, I'm emotional as fuck. Like, I hide that shit because it's. . . it's just not what men do, you know. It's easy to hide it from someone I don't really know, but with you it's like everything wants to get out."

    "It's not what men do? Fuck that, Hart, for real. I thought you weren't on those stereotypes," I said with an unexpected serious tone in my voice, "if you want to fucking cry, cry like a bitch. I don't care. No one should care. It's not like men don't have feelings."

    Tears rolled down his face. "No one's ever treated me the way you do. No one looks at me the way you do and no one's ever cared for me like that."

    I dried his tears with my thumbs and gave him a peck on the lips. "It's all good."

    "I was lonely before I met you, my only friend was my dad," he laughed through his crying, "that sounds even more pathetic when I say it oud loud. Anyway, what I was trying to feel is that you make me feel complete. These tears are because of how happy I am, and sad at the same time."

    "Why would you be sad?"

    "Babe," he sighed, "we can't be together."