The Beautiful Boy in Blue
It won’t go down as one of the best stories ever told about passing love, but this is a story I have to tell. The story of a boy who by passing chance met another boy, and while life in general hasn’t changed, at least one of theirs has.
It was his first day at work when my eyes froze into his. A deserted corridor, it was one, it was two, it was three, it was three seconds but just that time when we first walked past each other, eyes the medium of messages. Be mine, my eyes said, be mine and I’ll be yours and we’ll be each other’s rebellion.
For that day alone, my mind became an inefficiently run office. Almost everything I heard, all the jokes made, the lectures, the comments, were paper planes thrown aimlessly. At the center of it, was me, subconciously biting at my fingers.
I saw him a couple of times more that day. And more times the days after. And it’s always the same thing, the same message our eyes are telling each other. Be mine, be mine and I’ll be yours and we’ll be each other’s rebellion.
The broken child inside me is always afraid of making the first move. I’ve chastised myself, sworn time and time again, never again the pretty boy, never the heartbreaker, never the one who you think will make you smile. Never again. But just like every other lesson I’ve broken, this one needed to be too.
Then our schedules were different and I barely saw him. I cross and uncross my legs at work, tapping a pencil irritably against my desk. I was irked, I was alone, my eyes had no one to communicate with but a dreary computer screen. I did not know him, but I missed him.
But as luck would have it, our schedules aligned one day and we were magically assigned to work together. I leaned against his desk, smiled, and we introduced ourselves. We didn’t say anything much for the first couple of minutes, just smiling and looking, wishfully thinking be mine, be mine and I’ll be yours and we’ll be each other’s rebellion.
He was wearing blue that day. Oceanic, soothing, and matching his eyes. We talked about life, about work, about school, casually fishing, accidentally bumping, and grinning awkwardly, averting the eyes, only to look into each other again.
Afterwards, I shrugged it off. I did not want to be affected, to fall, to even muse for one second. But whenever I pass him by now, he still looks at me, he waves, and he flashes his smile. My legs wobble and I smile awkwardly back, my eyes looking into his, still saying be mine, be mine and I’ll be yours and we’ll be each other’s rebellion.
That was the norm now, whenever we saw each other, if we pass by at the hallway or at lunch, or if either of us has just arrived, or if one of us is leaving, we’d smile. I casually mentioned that I found him on Facebook, and he asked why I haven’t added him yet. I told him I did, and right away he got his phone and approved me.
But we were still looking at each other, and deep down, still deep down, wanting not to, but really wanting to just say be mine, be mine and I’ll be yours and we’ll be each other’s rebellion.
He is the beautiful boy in blue and what we have is unspoken and will probably remain that way. When I get home at night, I beat my head, wondering what I am such an idiot for not asking him out — but in the last five seconds before I sleep I know why. I am broken, but he is not the adhesion. He is the ideal, the beautiful, the one I want desperately to be with, the one I shouldn’t be with.
Tomorrow, he’ll say hi. Tomorrow, he’ll smile. He’ll drink his beverage through a straw in the cute way that he normally does, laugh in his sweet voice, wave with the palms of an angel. And when we look into each other, I’ll still read it: be mine, be mine and I’ll be yours and we’ll be each other’s rebellion.
Or maybe not.