Twenty-Four: Eyes of Blue.
“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
-Maya Angelou
When I look at people I know, I tend not to see them as they actually are. There's always their outward appearance, but there's also a swirl of color, a surge of emotion, and even strains of music in the back of my mind. Every person is a patchwork quilt of rainbow hues and pictures cut from vibrant memories, and even though it's all in my head, it feels real to me.
When I look at you, I see a manila parchment wrapping all around you. It's blank at first; then you start to speak, to live, and it fills with words that snake across its surface. Stars appear, and they weave their way into your hair and under your eyelids because you're the center of their universe, and when you smile there's a burst of iridescent lavender and the memory of your lips against mine.
You are not stagnant; in my mind, you are fleeting and endless and ever-changing, and everything I feel for you, all the affection and appreciation and love, whatever kind of love it is, sends moonbeams bursting out of you. Not sunbeams, because the sun is obvious and you aren't, you're quiet and elusive like the moon, but when you're in the perfect place, you shine.
I wish I was an artist, because then I could paint you the picture of you. But even then, I don't know if I'd be able to capture you in all of your chaotic beauty. I wish I was a writer, so I could use words like you do to describe it. I wish I could make you understand how incredible you are.
I wished, on that Monday, as I watched you write in the teashop, that I could just explain the way I felt about you and the way you made me feel.
We didn't talk as much as usual, but not in a bad way. You were writing and I was reading, but every once in a while we'd both look up and our eyes would meet and we'd both smile, shyly, before looking away again. Neither of us said anything about Saturday, but I could tell from your pink cheeks that you were thinking about it as much as I was. But we didn't want to ask the looming question: where are we now?
Instead, we talked about Christmas, only one day away, and you told me how it was your favorite holiday and you absolutely couldn't wait, especially because this was going to be a white Christmas, just like in the songs. You asked me what my plans were, and when I mumbled something about staying home alone, you were appalled.
“Alone on Christmas?” you demanded, and promptly asked (well, insisted), that I go to your family's house for their annual Christmas party. Your aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents were flying out from all over the country plus Canada, which you probably thought would persuade me, but it actually kind of worried me more than a little bit.
“I wouldn't want to intrude,” I said, nervous as usual.
You snorted. “Intrude? Please, if anyone's gonna be intruding, it'll be my Uncle Clinton. He eats half the ham by himself and takes up two seats at the table.”
When all I managed was a halfhearted laugh, you reached across the table and linked my fingers with yours.
“Please, Sam?” you begged, tugging my hand. “You won't be out of place or anything! I mean, Ed and Evan are bringing their girlfriends, and Emma's boyfriend is stopping by too. You have to come.”
I paused. I tilted my head and looked at you and thought about that for a moment.
“What does that make me then?” I asked slowly, finally. “What does that make us?”
You considered that. I watched your lips twist and your eyebrows move together as you said, very quietly, that you didn't know. I didn't know either, and for a moment, we said nothing.
Then: “I'll go,” I said, surprising myself. You looked up me with exclamation points in your eyes, and I smiled. “It'd be fun to spend Christmas with you.”
You grinned at me as we sat there, holding hands across the table, and we didn't know what we were or where we stood or where we were going, but that was okay. Because then you looked at me, smirking, and said, “You know, I always said that my first boyfriend would have blue eyes.”
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A/N: GUYS IT'S CHRISTMAS EVEEEEE
well it's already christmas for some of you but psht
whatever
i'm in the second last time zone to change days so y'know
but anyway, this chapter is pretty short and pointless and filler-y but i wrote it while in the car driving up to my grandmother's house and i'm REALLY excited for christmas and i've eaten a bunch of cookies and my aunt made cake and i was eating the leftover frosting and oh my god too much sugar and i'm gonna gain ten pounds but HEY IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR SO
ohmygoddavenshutup
