March 14
Dear Mamá,
It's been over two months now since I've seen you. I've missed you from the moment you left, and as the days go by the pain only gets worse and worse. You were right when you said absence only makes the heart grow fonder.
It's almost spring here, your favorite season. You and Jaime would like it. Mr. Sumner just put out his newest batch of flowers, those baby blue ones you used to place on the kitchen table. I can't bring myself to buy any, though- every time I see them, all I can think of is you. Your warm eyes, just a shade lighter; your favorite dress, the one you insisted on wearing to every gathering and wouldn't be caught dead without.
Blue was your favorite color, our favorite color. Even Jaime liked it best. He'd really love being here, the sky is the most beautiful azure today, and the pond is so clear I can see the fish swimming beneath the water. It reminds me of when the two of us used to jump in and try to catch them.
But I don't think I like blue quite as much anymore. I don't know, maybe I'm just looking at the wrong baby-blue flowers. You used to tell me to look for rainbows in the rain, and stars in the dark. Maybe I just haven't found my starry night yet.
Whatever the case, I love you and miss you. Hope to see you soon.
With love,
Mateo
Mateo stared at the paper in his hands for a few seconds, startled when a tear splashed onto it. He didn't even know he'd been crying. Oh well, a little more blue can't hurt. He must have looked pretty pathetic, sitting here on a beautiful early spring day, crying over a crumpled up piece up paper that would inevitably end up in his bedside drawer (just like all the rest). And this was only confirmed seconds later when he felt a slender hand on his shoulder, a shadow falling over him.
"Hey, man, are you okay?" the figure bending over him asked softly. At first, Mateo couldn't even bring himself to raise his head, too embarrassed at having been caught like this, but he knew he'd have to answer eventually.
"Yeah, sorry," he started, slowly raising his head. "I'm fine, I just-" His words caught in his throat as he gazed into the most dazzling pair of eyes he'd ever seen. He saw stars in the depths of royal blue. This has to be the most beautiful boy I've ever seen in my life.
". . .you just?" The concern flooding his eyes only made them that much more captivating as the strange, beautiful boy knelt down on the ground in front of Mateo. "Are you sure you're fine?"
Navy. That's what color they were. Navy. This gorgeous person kneeling in front of him had navy eyes, and he was drowning in them. God, how much he wanted to let himself, let himself stay in those mysterious pools and just be, just forget about everything bad in the world and just be Mateo again. And for a second, he almost did. He almost, almost forgot about why he'd been sitting in a park on a beautiful early spring day, crying over a crumpled piece of paper fated to end in a musty old drawer. Almost.
But then it all came flooding back to him, and suddenly those warm, deep navy eyes he already loved became blurry, and he realized he was crying again. And he couldn't stop.
"Hey, hey, it's okay! Don't cry, what's wrong?!" the man panicked, as if he believed he could ever be the reason for this.
But Mateo could barely listen, he was full on sobbing now. He'd been trying to ignore it, he really had, but something inside him had snapped, and it was too late to stop. Mamá! I'm so sorry, Mamá, it's all my fault. . . If he had just listened. . . I knew it was going to storm! I knew it!
"I knew it. . . knew. . ." He was blubbering, babbling his thoughts for all the world and every gorgeous-navy-eyed man to hear. In a matter of two minutes, this man he didn't even know had already managed to cause him to unravel.
"You knew what?" The kind stranger asked, and if Mateo weren't so delirious he would have sworn he pulled him closer.
"The storm. . . I knew about the storm. . . ¡Sabía que llovería, y no hice nada!" If he wasn't making sense before, he definitely wasn't making any now. Fat tears slid down his cheeks as his sobs grew desperate, his chest feeling as though on fire. He'd always been an ugly crier. "I knew, and I still let them leave. . .
"I let them leave! I let them leave the house in that God awful storm, and I let them get into that stupid accident!" And with that last, desperate wail, Mateo was pulled into the arms of the beautiful stranger. As his tears overtook him, he let out a final cry, the faintest mumble against the chest of a man he didn't even know.
"I. . . I let them die."
"Shh, shh, it's okay." Mateo hadn't heard a voice that soft, that comforting, in two months. "Let it out, I'm right here, it wasn't your fault. . ." Soothing circles being rubbed into his back helped calm him, turning his last whimpers into silent tears running down his face, until they eventually stopped altogether. A faint, yet strong heartbeat lulled him into a state of almost peace he hadn't felt in quite a while.
"Hey, you good now?" He could feel the low rumble of his voice vibrating throughout his whole body as he lifted his head, gazing into those captivating navy eyes. Navy eyes so bright, so gorgeous, he almost didn't even care that he was sitting here on a beautiful spring day, crying over a crumpled piece of paper. That he was sitting in the middle of a public park, and people had long ago begun staring and the grass was really starting to scratch at him.
Mateo took a deep breath, grounding himself. "Yeah, thanks. Sorry I kinda freaked out on you," he mumbled, reaching up to rub the back of his neck and wipe at his nose in a way that he knew would have earned a scolding from his mom, but otherwise not moving from his position against the boy's chest. He gave a faint nod of his head, as if to say, It's okay, I don't mind, do you want to talk about it? And truthfully, Mateo knew he shouldn't be seeking therapy from random strangers like this, but how could he ever say no to those eyes?
"It's just, a few months back. . . Well, you remember that storm, right?" 'Storm' was an understatement, how could anyone forget something like that?
"Well, that night my little brother Jaime had his very first boy scouts meeting. You see, he'd been sick for a while, and my Mamá, well, she'd be damned if her son wasn't gonna go to his first meeting. They were gonna make race cars. . ." The fond smile on his face at that memory threatened to bring more tears, so he kept going.
"Anyway, I knew it was supposed to storm. Hell, how could anyone not know, what with all that stuff on the news. But, I don't know, I just. . . it had been so long since Jaime was able to go out and play, and I just wanted to see him smile again, so I didn't say anything, just that I'd be waiting to hear all about it when he got home. What I'd give to hear about it, just to see him smile one more time. . ." Too bad for him, corpses in caskets couldn't be anything like his Jaime.
(Another few tears escaped at that thought.)
The boy gave him a considering look, before finally responding in a gentle voice, "You know it's not your fault, right?" A tiny smile lit up his face, just when Mateo thought he couldn't get any more beautiful. "You sound like a great brother, I'm sure Jaime doesn't blame you. There's nothing you could have done, it sounds like you just wanted him to be happy."
Mateo couldn't help it, it was all too much emotion for him to handle. He threw his arms around this not-quite-as-much-of-a-stranger's neck, pulling him close and resting his head in the crook of his neck as now silent tears rolled down his cheeks. "Thank you," he murmured against pale skin. He seemed taken aback by it at first, but it wasn't long before he'd wrapped his arms around Mateo's waist, letting out a small, "No problem."
After a few moments, Mateo found himself reluctantly pulling out of the man's grasp, wiping at his eyes as he shakily stood up (and noticed the wet stain now left behind on the other's shirt). The stranger followed suit, offering out a hand to steady him. Mateo took it and didn't let go.
"Thanks, man. I needed that," he said, showing his first actual smile in what felt like forever. He missed the faint dusting of pink on the stranger's cheeks at the sight. "Hey, so, I was thinking that, you know, maybe as like a thanks or something for this, you might want to grab something to eat? Or maybe a coffee? I'm pretty wiped and I know this great little café around the corner." And, as an afterthought, he added, "The name's Mateo, by the way."
He didn't miss the blush this time as the boy offered his name. Adrian. It's nice.
"And coffee sounds great." And there Mateo was, caught up in Adrian's deep, navy eyes, just a shade darker than her's, and much darker than the baby blue flower he bought for him from Mr. Sumner. The color of the night sky, filled with stars, and of a clear, storm-free twilight.
And though he still wasn't okay (and that was okay), he was never again alone when he opened his bedside drawer.