Time passed and the years marched on.
Eventually a time came when the internal combustion engine went the way of video players and rotary phones. A time when the average life expectancy was well into triple digits. When dying of anything of anything other than old age was about as rare as finding a wild panda in Chiswick, and when even the idea of fatal road traffic accidents was no more than a faint memory.
In one of those years, on one inauspicious day in the midst of a million similar inauspicious days a small, but niggling, cosmic imbalance that had existed for far too long was corrected.
It was a fine sunny day, warm but not too hot, with the prospect of rain later. Drawn by promotions and the dual promise of nostalgia and 'cultural development' (also known as a way to keep children occupied for free) parents, guardians and educators alike from all over the area were dragging their reluctant charges to the central museum. Once there, they released them into the maze of displays and exhibits with instructions to reconvene at a pre-determined time.
One such visitor was a fifteen-year-old boy with few friends and a distaste for crowds. He sidled around the masses, finding solace in some of the smaller, less populated exhibits. As tempted as he was by the 'History of Football' feature the many pushing, yelling bodies in the chamber deterred him and he veered away, opting instead for the significantly emptier 'Magic of Music' hall.
Slowly, he made his way further into the room, occasionally skim reading the information points and happily managing to identify the majority of instruments on show. Nearing one dais, his view was obscured by a slender boy, marginally taller than himself but who looked to be roughly the same age. Approaching closer than he usually would in order to peer over the boy's shoulder, he could see a familiar shape.
"Oh, it's an acoustic guitar!" he exclaimed. The sight of the curved wood and six taut strings made his fingers twitch. His sudden pronouncement clearly surprised the other boy who, startled, stepped back and stumbled over the speaker's foot.
Instinctively, they both reached out to prevent the fall and grasped the other just above the elbow. Once footing had been regained, and they were reassured that tumbling was no longer an option, they looked at each other. And froze.
The taller boy's gaze took in a pair of large dark eyes – the left almost obscured by a soft lock of hair that cascaded over a smooth forehead, bow-shaped lips and a joyful feeling of comfort and belonging diffused through his body. He could not help the smile of delight that spread across his face.
The other boy saw eyes as dark as his own that almost disappeared as they transformed from a pleasing almond shape to crescents by the most blindingly beautiful smile he seen in this lifetime. It resonated through his being and woke something dormant in his soul.
Simultaneously their grips loosened slightly and in unison their hands slid down the others forearm until they were palm to palm. Their fingers intertwined, locking together not to be separated for at least the next hundred years, nor in any lifetime to come after.
If anyone was listening very quietly, and very carefully, they might have heard a faint 'click' as one of the constants of the universe was restored.
"Hi" a shy, tentative voice said.
"Hi."
YOU ARE READING
Apollo Sleeps (SarawatTine)
Fanfiction"The way you love me, it changes who I am." Sarawat gave a brief snort of laughter at that line, acknowledging the truth it spoke. He would never be the out-going social soul that Tine was, but it could not be denied that he was no longer the insula...
