It was never effortless to love Aaron Warner. He was a difficult teenage boy who seemed to forget a lot of the time that that was what he was-a teenage boy. He'd always felt that loving or even caring for him would be impossible for all the world to...
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AT "HOME"
"AND THEN OBVIOUSLY Lover," I tell him.
"Lover?" Aaron repeats.
I nod. "Yup. My favorite."
"And least favorite?"
I smile at his curious questions as we lay in bed. As I trace hearts on his bare arm. I never used to talk about this kind of stuff at the orphanage—they'd all bully me for listening to Taylor Swift. Apparently her music was too old and overrated. I refused to listen to them of course, I knew they were wrong. But it still sucked to not be able to have someone to chat about all of this with.
Even if it was "just music", it was music that helped me through the toughest years of my life. And still does.
"Debut," I say. "I love it, don't get me wrong, but it's just not her best."
"Fair enough."
"Hey, you know what song you really remind me of?"
Aaron smirks a little. It's the type of smile that makes me all nervous inside. "Tell me."
"Cruel Summer," I chuckle. Not having him know the meanings behind these songs is so funny to me. So entertaining to see that frown of his appear in confusion. "Oh, and Daylight."
He glances down at me. "And those are songs from. . .Lover?"
"Uh-huh,"
"I'll have to listen to them at some point then," he says.
I beam, my cheeks hurting. He's everything to me. I've only known him for four months and he's already my favorite person. Although, I lost my family so long ago and I don't have anyone else in my life, so it's not like I'd have another person to talk about these things with. But he makes it so simple and easy. Talking to him is like breathing. It feels natural. Like I was born to do it.
I love the way his eyes light up when he sees me or how he smiles when I make a joke that actually ends up being dirty or inappropriate in some way and I don't even realize it. I love how he walks, talks, does anything. How he tells me the truth all the time. Like when I watched him sneak to that egg-robin blue house and exit with tears staining his face. How he told me his mother was staying in that house and he and his family took care of her whilst she was sick.
I love him. And it's a terrifying feeling. Like jumping headfirst into water without knowing its depth.
"Hey," I suddenly perk up with an idea. "When's your birthday? I've known you for ages and I've never asked."
Aaron's eyebrows furrow. "When is my birthday?"
"Yeah,"
"You want to know when my birthday is," he repeats like this is the most confusing and strangest thing in the world. "Why?"
