A Thousand Pieces of Luigi Hart
"Come here you beautiful fool,"
The way he said it made me smile a little instead of getting insulted. When someone called you a fool, as initial reaction you would be; offended, of course. But it was in the way Jace uttered the f, the o's and the l that made me think otherwise. They were spoken in a manner that lovers would call their soul mates after a lifetime of waiting- like a sweet nothing. Besides, how could I hate someone as beautiful as him for calling me 'beautiful fool'? There was no way. If this was falling...
Then he gave me that breathtaking, time-stopping smile. Encouraging me to take another step forward. To take the risk. To cross the line between breaking and unbreaking. Shit, fuck-were the first two conclusion my mind made when I realized what was happening to me. And like natural defense mechanism, my feet halted and took a step backwards, terrified of what was to come if I ever take another step towards him.
He was there. Standing. Waiting. In his imperfectly perfect existence. Being effortlessly ethereally beautiful in his own flawed way.
And I took a step forward. He hugged me midway, making me to fall deep in his arms-unexpectedly. I was shell-shocked not only because I was letting him-a complete stranger-to hug me but also from the way I felt while shackled in his embrace. How could I explain this oddity... this feeling? Jace was an ample peculiarity to me as I was to him and yet he felt like home. Like an electric surge brewing to a storm, I felt like I was an ink being scattered on a piece of paper for the first time. Writing poems while snuggled in my favorite beanbag back in London with my headphones snugged around my ears. Home.
And yet, we looked at the same stars and see such different things.