We sit on the damp grass behind the camper van looking up at the stars. The clouds above the horizon hide a few of the sparkling dots so far away, you lean on my shoulder, closing the distance. We shouldn’t be doing this, we should be back inside, sleeping soundly. The crickets sing from the tall grass in front of us, it’s late, we don’t know how late, but the moon shines down on us like a spotlight, casting a shadow of our silhouettes on the white wall behind us.
You can’t sleep because it’s your first time racing with this new kart, in the dead of night you admit to me, a cold whisper that you’re not scared of the power, you’re scared to wreck it, to worry your mother, make your family pay for a new chassis again. And as your chest rises and falls against me I fight the urge to grab your hand, so I hold onto your secret, it’s the next best thing. You sigh and I breathe it in, it wouldn’t be the first time, only the night knows how many worries you confess to me and how many times I hold your head in my lap. The moon reflects in your blue eyes and God, help me because they’re more beautiful than any constellation. I could get lost in them for as long as I’d like, and always find my way back to you, because you shine brighter than any star. Your blonde hair, almost silver in the night, flows across your forehead in a few baby hairs. Everything about you is breathtaking.
I can’t sleep because tomorrow, the kart in the second place grid slot on the start finish line will be yours, and when I see that godforsaken yellow we share on our helmets I always overshoot the apex, losing the position to you. You hit this weak spot in me that doesn’t stop aching even when the helmet goes on, even when the engine drowns out every other sound and the speed strips away any other thoughts. It wrecks me in the dead of night because I don’t know if I should hate you or myself for it. Because I can’t bring myself to hate you for it, not when you smile like that holding the golden trophy that matches your hair so perfectly it’s almost like you were made for the top step. The hunger in me, the thirst for glory gnaws at my bones, and I simply can’t sleep when the trophy’s in your display case instead of mine, tossing and turning as I drown in silver all because you hold onto one little string so close to my heart.
You smile, looking up at the stars. I smile, looking down at you. Tomorrow you’ll smile looking straight at your mother. Tomorrow I’ll smile looking up at you. You’ll go back home holding the gold for the entire trip, keeping that smile till the second you fall asleep. I’ll go back home and stare at my shelves of second place trophies, sick of that shade of silver.
I don’t tell you how my heart is torn to shreds like a gruelling battlefield in a war where nobody wins.
You don’t tell me you would’ve slammed your kart into the tyres in a heartbeat if it meant I could hug you sincerely for the first time in a while.
