Part One
David
"I'm always gonna be a little empty. But, step by step, I'm catching up."
There have not been many times in my life in which I've seen something I would describe as breathtaking.
Which is not to say I've led a consistent life.
I am a result of change.
I am a result of my mum deciding kids wouldn't be a bad thing to have.
My upbringing is a result of change.
Dad changed his mind about his future, and the woman he had promised it to.
My new home is a result of change.
Dad, who needed a change in scenery as much as I did from London's downcast streets, took him with me to leave our shattered household behind.
Mum never said goodbye.
She'd changed her mind about me, too.
Who I am is a result of change. I traded dresses for t-shirts, braids for close-cropped hair, pink for blue.
Changed from Ella to David.
I traded confusion for happiness.
And, it turns out, Dad had some more changing to do, too. With a soon to be husband by his side, it seems we found out why the spark had faded from his old marriage. That is, if the spark were ever there at all.
And, I still am changing.
But, the lack of things to describe as breathtaking has remained the same.
Not much of anything seems beautiful anymore.
But the sight before me, sheets of color draped across a starry night sky, a full moon shining luminously through all of the beauty in the night, still, waveless water, like glass, reflecting the collision of shimmering colors, a chilled breeze causing every blade of grass in the seemingly infinite flat fields to sway - an orchestra of nature, a divine melody.
It can only be described one way. It can only be described by my gaping mouth, by the lack of warmth from puffs of breath that would, ordinarily, greet my lips.
Absolutely,
Undoubtedly,
Breathtaking.
"Miguel," I whisper, regaining long held oxygen, "What are those?"
My new auburn-haired friend, whom I'd just met upon wandering the fields of this unfamiliar place, so unlike my home city, lifts a corner of his mouth in response. A gesture that reveals a small dimple, a dent on shockingly white skin that so differs from my own dark complexion. The gap in between his barely revealed front teeth is an imperfection I hadn't noticed before, but one I'm glad to see now.
The small smile warms both his complex hazel eyes, a multitude of spiraling browns and greens, and my heart.
"'Ave 'ou not 'eard of the Aurora 'orealis?" He asks, his Scottish accent difficult to pick through. Though, his deep, rumbling voice is very easy on the ears.
"Aurora Borealis?" I repeat the words, testing out their sound on my tongue. His eyes search mine, scrounging for any sign of jest. I stare at him, straight-faced as I reply "No, I haven't the slightest idea."
His features rearrange themselves into a thoughtful expression, and he eases his back on to the ground, lacing his fingers behind his head.
"Ya might know 'em better as ''orthern lights'."
"Nope." I hug my knees to my chest, placing my chin atop my arms. I watch in awe of the lights as they dance among the stars.
Aurora Borealis. They truly are beautiful.
"'Ell, 'hat 'ust 'on't do, now 'ill it?" Miguel says suddenly, and I crane my neck behind me to watch as he rises from his laying position, dusting any traces of dirt off of his pants. He then reaches a hand down towards me.
I drop my hands from my knees, grasping his fingers with my own, and hold on a moment longer than necessary after I'm upright.
I hope he didn't notice.
But I think he did.
I can't be sure, though, as Miguel had already turned away.
"'Mon over to my place." He says suddenly, looking over his shoulder at me. My heart skips a beat at his words.
"Uh, what?" I blurt, immediately followed by a mental facepalm. Miguel's cheeks color with a slight red as he turns around entirely, his mouth already opened to defend his words.
"My grand-papi 'ill explain the story of the lights." He replies, nodding to the sky. I open my mouth, prepared to ask what he meant by that, but closed it, seeing as that would be answered by going to his house and finding out. I look over my shoulder at the lights, shimmering and beautiful.
Safe.
But, mysterious.
I can't help but be curious what story, exactly, Miguel's grandpa has to tell about them.
And, Miguel seems like a pretty trustworthy guy, right?
Besides, I could probably outrun an old man if anything takes a creepy turn.
"D'ya 'ot trust me?" He asks, his voice clearly amused. I whip my head away from the lights and back to him, to see he's wearing his seemingly signature half smile. I feel my own lips twitch in response.
"Well, we did just meet. Like, just now." I reply in a tone that, annoyingly, faltered in the wrong places and came out much too quietly.
"I'm 'ot very scary, though." He replies, just as I mumble "But you seem cool, I guess."
"What'dya say?" He asks, and I feel heat spread across my face. Luckily, my dark skin has always hidden my blush. I slump my shoulders to make myself smaller, hoping to disappear entirely.
"Uh, that you seemed alright."
He offers a polite laugh in response, then shrugs.
"Glad ya think so," He says, eyeing me cautiously, as if expecting me to accidentally interrupt again, "So, what 'ill it be, then?"
I pat my jacket pocket to feel my phone.
Just in case.
"Well, I hate to leave the view, but, sure, why not?" And I meant it. Looking back over my shoulder to steal a quick glance at the beautiful scenery, I long to memorize every detail of the enthralling colors, a part of me afraid I'll never see them again.
But, returning my gaze to my new friend, I see that he's filled with his own light. The brightness of his eyes, the warmth of his smile, the color in his cheeks.
Much more breathtaking than the lights could ever hope to be.
"Aye, the lights 'ill shine again, 'ough." He reassures me, and I turn away from the coast of Caithness, Scotland's front row seats to the natural phenomenon.
"Yeah." I reply, filled with a new sense of excitement. A nod of assurance shared between us, a challenge was soon established; a race to Miguel's, a friendly competition I was unfamiliar with, but eager to try.
I knew he'd win, but it didn't stop me from pumping my legs, wind stinging my eyes, my hoodie pulled down and my face completely revealed. And, thus, an even more foreign concept was introduced - me not caring at all.
I'd never run like that before, laughing for no reason in particular.
I'd never had a reason to before.
And, this change is one I wouldn't mind getting used to.
'~'~'~'~'~'~'