JOHN

two

I was absolutely aware of him.

John, in the beginning, in the very beginning, during the time that we were staring to know each other, hadn't been pushed away from his own essence, from his own self, enough to have lost the vulnerability yet, one of his most distinct qualities. He was soft, and completely so. I loved him for being able to be soft. It was this rather refreshing kind of openness that he had that made him so incredibly enduring. The broad smile, flashing teeth, bright eyes, wide, too wide when they were looking right at you, the excited ticking of his fingers.

Around the time that I first met him, John was still a relatively happy aspiration of himself, well, at least – and only, as it was brought to my attention only after some time – when he was with me. He was happy.

It was me too, I become one of the many factors that broke him too, eventually, I did.

He had a pure heart, he did. He kept it unprotected, at least in my presence, as such things should always be. This also meant that it was easily corruptible and very, very easily swayed. It was exposed, right there, exposed for anybody to hurt, for anybody to break.

It baffled me.

I tried to exercise control over myself. That was one of my virtues, self-control.

He was so close to me, just at the periphery of my vision, right there, so quiet, so calm. I could swear that the wind was in tune with the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest. So calm, an absolute kind of peace. He lay there, a small smile on his face, the edges of his mouth turned up, eyes romping, hungry and consuming. Feeding relentlessly on the vast inky blue sky.

I loved it like this, the sky, the brilliance, the endless, endless depth of something absolutely unfathomable to my mind. But he was riding a different vibration, he was high off of it, he was drowning. He lay there and it felt like he was just about to drink it all up, just about to part his lips and consume, consume. There was an unexplained wonder seeping right through his skin and into everything around us.

He was beautiful.

I could feel it on my skin, in my brain, in every fibre of my existence.

It was only five or six minutes that had passed between the time that he had walked over and now, but it felt like an absolute infinity had passed by us.

He turned his attention to me then, abrupt, face turned to the side, eyes on me.

I became highly aware of my intrusion, but he did not seem to mind.

"They are so beautiful." He whispered, his voice far, far away, so consumed by something that I was blinded to, something I would never be able to see. This enraged me too, to some extent, made me wonder. I wanted to see this thing, whatever was out there, whatever was playing inside that skulk of his.

His eyes were backlit with so much amazement. What was I missing?

"It is."

I could not formulate words anymore; I could not bring myself to break this spell.

Minutes passed by. I spoke again.

"That is why I come out here." I told him. My mind was on fire.

The both of us went back to looking at the sky, to being consumed by our own separate thoughts.

Hours passed by like minutes, like a swift flowing river, the two of us like rocks there, in the depths of its belly, looking out, being washed over. That was our first night there. It turned out to be quite puzzling. John, his presence beside me, the way we seemed to occupy this space in the universe, the way that we lay there, together, one in this moment, one with everything around us, and together.