@laviteae summoned deathfor some heartache. SELECTIVELY OPEN.
Duncan has never been good with beginnings. Perhaps, if one were to trace him back, all trails would lead to one warm day when a leaf fell off a tree and he was made out of his parents’ first kiss. Many springs have passed since. But when has he started to know what all of this means? When was the beginning of her? Of them together?
The seasons changed. And one spring morning he woke up with a full garden blooming in his chest. The seeds were planted many years ago, he realizes eventually. One day, those feelings swept in through a window he forgot to close, like shy prayers, that’s what her fingertips feel on his skin. And now, Hana permeates his every thought.
The seasons change. Today, he finds himself wanting to share his every living moment with her, uninteresting and trivial. He rehearses his thoughts, over and over again until the simple phrase “I bought chocolate for you” becomes an incoherent word-salad.
But that doesn’t throw him off.
If love is like the box of chocolate he has picked out from a shop, then it should be shared.
He arrives at the police station, a proud and threatening building. And with him arrives reality like an uninvited guest. As soon as he has been swept off his feet by chocolate and the promise of kisses, the reality of his situation catches up.
There she is, in the arms of a tall man, three-piece, charming smile. She laughs, and although they are too far from where Duncan stands to make up any sound, he can hear her familiar warm-summer laugh ringing in his ears. Muscle memory. His empty stomach is swirled by nausea, unrestrained and cruel, and he bites his tongue to stop it from forming half-regrets.
If only, if only, if only. Taunting. Cruel. Wrong.
They kiss as lovers do under the cover that no eyes are watching. But Duncan is watching. And he is overpowered by heartache and despair. His fingers dig deeply into the paper box until he notices, and lets go.
The seasons change and Duncan, young and cursed, forever stays the same, tempted by the sharp edges of love, beyond the promise of trite sentimentality.
