Room

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When I enter Vic's room it feels like I traveled back in time. Because no time has passed in this room. It looks exactly the same as it did fifteen years ago, like not a day's gone by inside. It actually makes my brain hurt.

The posters on the wall are still intact. His old guitar still hangs on one of the walls. His desk is clear, though. I remember it being always cluttered with random stuff. I wonder if he still keeps things inside the drawers.

I walk towards the window next to the desk and notice a polaroid picture pasted to the glass.

"Oh God," I say getting closer to it. It's one of us, of course. A tilted selfie Vic took with my old polaroid camera one night he stayed over at my house. I don't really remember why he stayed or how we even convinced my parents to let him stay the night, but he took the picture while we laid in my bed. I'm folded like a burrito in blankets and all you can see is the half of my face because the rest of it is buried in Vic's chest. I'm smiling so big and he is too towards the camera. He looked so handsome in that one and I told him so when the photo developed and I swear it was the first time I saw him blush for real. The memory makes me smile for some reason, but I quickly let it fade.

I strum his guitar as I walk to the closet. One of the doors is open, so I take a peak inside. I can't help to laugh out loud. He still has his high school clothes here. I literally remember most of these shirts and how he used to wear them every day. I shake my head in disbelief. This is too crazy. I literally can't express it enough.

Inside I also find some notebooks stacked on a shelf and I take one at random. I open it in the middle and find Vic's messy handwriting all over the pages. It's his journal. All of these notebooks are journals. Shit. I look around the room in case I'm not alone, when I know for sure I am. I know I shouldn't read this. I should just leave the notebooks here and leave. But I mean, I have one open anyway.

I look down to the page I have open and read the date: October 2009. That was probably freshman year. Vic and I met then. I read over some more pages and it's all just random thoughts, until I find my name.

I think today I met him, journal. I met my soulmate.

The words make my heart stop.

His name is Kellin and I swear he's the most amazing person I have ever met. I really want to be his friend, but I don't know what to say to him. He's so beautiful I want to die. Yes, I know how it sounds but you have to see him to believe me.

I stop myself from reading further. This is impossible. Vic was always so cool and collected. I was the awkward and shy one. But he was nervous to talk to me? The thought makes me smile for some reason. I still remember the first time we talked was because of Jen, a common friend we had. She basically introduced us because she thought we would get along and well, everything started like that.

"Oh no, what are you doing," comes Vic's voice from the closet door. I startle and shut the notebook as fast as I can while he laughs. "Did you find my millions of poems about you?"

I turn around and see him smiling. I'm glad he's not pissed I read what his fifteen-year-old-self used to write about. But I feel like I just got caught doing something wrong.

"You were nervous to talk to me?" I play it cool, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Whatever's written there is 100% not true, just saying," he smirks, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh, so I'm not so beautiful you wanted to die?" I tease and his eyes open wide. I pick another notebook and shuffle through some pages while Vic starts chanting "not listening" to himself and covering his ears with his hands like a child. The next notebook I choose is from 2011. "Or that I'm like a breath of fresh air and, the man of your life–" I stop myself and frown.

Maybe In Another Life | Kellic (boyxboy)Where stories live. Discover now