There are several pieces of paper here.
Each contain a phrase, sentence, could be, that
would identify which lifetime you would enter.
Fantastic, isn't it? You are here to witness bits and
pieces of the lovers that fate had continuously bound
since the beginning of time.
You have brought the materials that are needed, right?
You will need a fountain pen for this. If you already
have it, proceed and pick a piece of paper.
Best of luck!
By the way! For every lifetime, there are images for you
to use for your traveler's notebook! Use these materials wisely!
It was, undeniably, a bright summer afternoon in the city of Seoul. These were the times where the people refused to go out and present themselves under the burning rays of daylight without an umbrella in their hand and sunscreen with probably high SPF gently pat on their faces. Some even took risks, eventually going outside and facing the sun bravely fully-clothed – as in long-sleeves and pants. Thank God for genetics though, even if they did sweat a lot, they didn’t really.. have a pungent smell.
The lower half of his face was hidden under a mask, the only part you could see were his honey-hued irises and his perfectly plucked eyebrows, the prominent ridge of his nose. His dark locks weren’t as seen as they were hidden by a black cap, and the outfit that he donned was just as similar. They say you can never go wrong with black, right? And he was just wearing that. An all-black long-sleeve with minimal details alongside black trousers, feet clad in Gucci leather – an outfit that was simple, though he thought wrong.
Who the hell wears black under a weather like this? It was safe to say that Carter Kim had miscalculated. He did not want to garner any attention while he slyly ventured outside his home, away from the eyes of his security and manager. It was tough to live as an idol, living under the public eye and the scrutiny that comes with it – it was sadly, a love-hate relationship. While he was thankful, Carter had always felt the suffocation threatening to happen whenever a situation gets overwhelming.
So here he was, trying to blend in – keyword, trying. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He just wanted to go to a museum, for Christ’s sake! But here he was, getting looked at. Carter simply prayed that people wouldn’t pry any further and just left him alone.
It was just another day in his life, actually.
To act as if he was a normal citizen, conversing with others as if he hasn’t done anything wrong in his life. He may be perceived as a blessed angel, or maybe even a saint, blood in his veins so pure, not a tinge of wrongdoing evident in its place. He may be associated with the color white, at first glance, thinking about how he is probably so clean, precise.
He is clean. He is precise. With how he seamlessly interweaves with civilization, plays with their minds like they were mere child’s play. If mind games were a sport, he would be a renowned professional. You could not forget his talent with communication as well, how he easily shifts the aura of the conversation. With a snap of his fingertips, things go onto his way – a professional, that he is.
His façade towards the people of society is a complete 180 from his visage behind the scenes. He is no longer the saint you speak of, no longer the angel you usually see. Those who know him are afraid of him – Valenti, whose role is just to simply speak with the Godfather, give him mere advice and sometimes even representing the entirety of the mafia when it comes to meeting with other gangs.
But that is what makes him fearful.
They say actions speak louder than words, but when you are as intelligent as Kyran Valenti, whose words could make you bend under his will, then you have all the means to remain fearful.
What a visage, yes?
Two people in the world, both living under facades that have slowly weaved within their true selves all these years. Would they get along? Would they lower their walls for one another? One lives under the limelight yet would rather hide behind the scenes, while the other was supposed to be behind the scenes, yet lives so differently.
But enough of that – enough of that chitchat.
Where are we now?
Carter finally arrived at his destination – an art gallery that was popular around Seoul. He had been meaning to go here for a few times now, but sadly, his strict and rather full schedule had prevented him from doing so. But if you like something, why not go for it, right? That’s why he escaped from his manager and security, who was most likely panicking right now as he wasn’t really answering their calls right now.
The art gallery was situated in one of the most popular places in Seoul. The architecture of the building had greatly reminded him of the time he was in Europe, where it seemed like art itself was the reason why the whole country was alive in his eyes. It was a magical experience going there – lover of the arts he was, though not thoroughly expressed. Carter had then taken a step forward, looking up at the bodacious entrance of the museum. In front of him were stairs made of stone – something he had also admired, wow. Who was he, anyway? Maybe there wasn’t even any meaning as to why the stairs were made of stone.
He had managed to go up the stairs before going to the entrance, excitement slowly bubbling up in his chest as Carter came in closer and closer to the one place he had been yearning to go to recently. It was nice, yes, he could already tell. He knew himself, this one facet of his, at least. Whenever he is around art, he instantly feels at ease – it reminded him of every single performance he had done on stage, all the outfits he had donned – they were all art in different forms.
It made him smile. The brims of his plush lips were slowly curving upward – he was smiling, you could tell, even though they were hidden behind the mask. The apples of his cheeks were evident as he continued to tread upward – he was finally here.
Slender digits reach towards the inside of his trouser pocket, feeling the edge of his ticket at the tips of his fingers. Once he felt the material, Carter had held it in his hand, ready to hand it towards security. “Finally,” he mumbled quietly, walking happily towards the man. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
A few words uttered and although they weren’t really any much meaning to them – they seem so right to say.
Kyran Valenti had eventually walked out of his office, a pep in his step as he hummed a joyful song. His hair looked like he had ruffled it many times – it was because the people he had talked to over the phone had made him quite furious, but alas, he had succeeded as usual, thus he was ecstatic – and his irises looked like they were gleaming.
The sun had shone brightly over him, the heat not really bothering him as much since his art gallery was air conditioned after all – centralized! He loved that since Kyran wasn’t really a fan of sweat. It was a Thursday, he had observed. There weren’t a lot of people present inside the gallery, but he noticed that those who came here either took off time from work or simply came here because they had a lot of time. He was familiar, observant with those who come here.
Believe it or not, some were regulars!
This little art gallery of his – it was his baby. Something that is very much dear to him since it was his dream after all to build something like this. A place to house several kinds of art. He did not mind, after all. A dilettante, an aesthete – he liked describing himself as these. It was true, or so he says.
Kyran liked to be around people. He was an extrovert, and he liked getting to know the people who visits his gallery through the art pieces they are drawn to. It was a nice feeling, to somehow make assumptions about people through the masterpieces they enjoy.
“Hello!” he greeted several people, bowing to them and telling them to enjoy after. At first glance, you would think he was a kind soul – well, he is! A lot of people say he is. But people don’t always know everything, don’t they? The consigliere that he was. Kyran was going through his art gallery at this point, walking and walking, talking to people here and there. They weren’t any long conversations, just a brief one yet he already had a gist about who or what type the person was.
And then he saw him.
It wasn’t like fate or anything – Kyran didn’t even look like the type to believe in that kind of thing. He didn’t believe in a lot of things, not even doppelgangers – so why the hell was he staring at someone who looked exactly like him? Kyran had stopped in his tracks, staring at the man who had pulled down his mask, he noticed. He was in shock, of course, it’s not every day you see someone who looked like you.
His feet finally moved, approaching the man cautiously. Kyran wasn’t shy, he was one bold motherfucker, but things like this make him question what was going through the universe and its mind – some cosmic shit, perhaps.
He tried to be clandestine with his movements, trying to hide himself from the man’s peripheral vision. He seemed very absorbed with the painting he was looking at, and Kyran could not help but feel at peace with what he was seeing. It was odd, rather, since Kyran was used to not giving second glances to other people, but this one man right here – who was clad in black, head to toe – caught his attention.
Cosmic shit, he repeated to himself.
Kyran was finally behind the man after subtly walking behind him, even the clicking of his heels didn’t seem to distract the latter, but it was fine.
With a raise of his hand, slender digits slowly reach over to the man’s shoulders, gently tapping him to get his attention – Kyran had his doubts at first since it seemed like the male was too invested in the painting, but alas, he had gotten his attention.
It came as a shock at first, how it wasn’t even that cold yet the tiny hairs on his skin stood up, even the ones on the back his neck. You’d think he was scared as hell, his heart beating rapidly inside his broad chest, feeling the tiny beads of sweat form on his forehead. Even his eyes were wide, unexpected surprise welcoming him, feeling like he was hit with a freight train, too.
“What the hell?” was the phrase that was let out of his mouth, forgetting that his lips were no longer muffled by the mask he had worn earlier. Raising his eyebrows in shock, Carter could not believe what he was seeing. Why the fuck did this man look like him?
Kyran swore he felt his breath hitch at the sight that was in front of him right now. The male looked exactly like him, although he was a bit thinner in physique – looked like he was on a diet, he wasn’t going to lie. But wow, was the universe fucking with him? With them? There was no way in hell that they were twins separated at birth – he was an only child – so this, he confirmed, was something really out of this world.
“You look like me,” he uttered in disbelief, wanting to touch the man but he figured that there were boundaries, of course. “Yeah,” the male replied. “No shit,” he mumbled, before taking a step back.
“Do I know you?” Carter asked him bravely, briefly looking around them to see if anyone had recognized his face. He’s going to get a lot of words from his management later, he already knew that, but the least he could do was to stay safe and to keep it on the down low. “No,” Kyran shook his head.
Both of them had remained silent, not really knowing what to do. The situation was simply sinking in for the two. How can you talk at a situation like this? It was terrifying.
Kyran took the initiative, clearing his throat before standing straight, looking much more presentable than he was earlier. “Good afternoon. My name is Kyran Valenti and I own this art gallery. Welcome!” he said joyously, trying to forget the awkward atmosphere between them. “I hope you’re enjoying the pieces we have for this month. I’ve noticed you’ve been staring at this painting for a while,” he paused, getting a bit serious.
“Does it remind you of something?”
Carter was still quiet, though he was amazed with how Kyran Valenti, who was apparently the owner of this art gallery, brought his composure back to welcome him as a visitor. He seemed so homey, yet Carter knew that wasn’t all that. He had a gut feeling.
“Um,” he started to speak. “Carter Kim, and this is a nice place you got.”
Why was he speaking as if he was literally under the home of Kyran Valenti?
“And yeah, it does remind me of something.”
Kyran looked at Carter expectantly, waiting for him to expand his thoughts yet much to his dismay, the latter had stayed silent. “Well?” Kyran prodded him with a simple question – was he being too invasive?
“What? You want me to tell my life story to you?”
“I have the time, don’t be shy.”
And maybe, maybe Carter doesn’t regret going out that day.
And maybe, Kyran didn’t regret to stay in his art gallery that day.
“Please tell me you did not genuinely do that.”
“I did! I thought you were being serious.”
“Well I thought we were joking around!”
Carter had heaved a sigh, shaking his head lightly before glancing at his friend, who had an incredibly sorry look on her face. It started out as a joke, actually, yet Carter now knew that Bellamy Bloom had problems discerning jokes and whatnot sometimes.
It started out as a joke, actually. The two of them were kidding around one day, hanging out as per usual; this wasn’t anything new. The moment Carter saw Bellamy, he was instantly drawn to her – was that something cliché to say? He’d told her many times that it seemed like the female’s energy was drawing him in, and that it felt like her presence was so comforting, so familiar to him.
But before he remembered how their friendship started, Carter had chosen to think about what happened that made him slightly upset at Bellamy.
“You didn’t have to literally make me pee, you know,” he spoke once more, breaking the silence that was suddenly surrounding them. Carter, at just once glance, knew that Bellamy felt bad. His heart sunk at the sight, how the female had looked down; he already knew that she was pouting, and looking at her feet. “Hey..” he called out to her, feeling a bit awful since he felt like he was too harsh on her.
Bellamy looked up, and Carter knew that it was a mistake to look into her eyes. “You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled, a hand reaching out to ruffle his brown locks of hair. Bellamy had puppy eyes, killer ones, at that, and it was gesture Carter had a rough time getting out of.
“I’m sorry,” Bellamy had finally spoke up with that tiny voice of hers, quietly. Carter had noticed that his friend’s bodacious façade had immediately dissipated once she had ‘noticed’ that he was upset. He wasn’t really that upset with it, more embarrassed than anything, to be honest. “I thought you were being serious,” she paused, biting her lip before continuing to speak. “But I read the situation wrong. I thought you wanted to have some fun – some experience!”
“It was one hell of an experience alright,” Carter added in a whisper, yet that did not escape Bellamy’s senses. “But I’m really sorry, Carter,” she replied, looking into his eyes. “How can I make it up to you?” she queried, looking so hopeful that he would respond. Of course, it was a given that Carter will respond, but he took his time.
They were somewhere in their made-up utopia, surrounded by different kinds of flora. The garden was composed of different species of flowers, some would probably recognize them, but some would probably tilt their heads in confusion and wonder if this kind of flower did truly exist. It was a more different in this world than what everyone has been used to, but Carter didn’t really mind, he enjoyed being here.
Though it was only for a quick moment, he didn’t get to stay here for too long. Time ran different in utopia than in the real world, means he couldn’t see Bellamy as much too.
“Honestly?” Carter finally spoke up, patting Bellamy’s hair. “You don’t even have to do anything,” he admitted, eliciting a rather surprised noise from the female. “I’ve already forgiven you after I realized what happened, it’s not a big deal,” he stated. “Embarrassing, but it’s not much of a big deal, I moved on already.”
“Are you sure about that?” Bellamy asked once more just to appease her thoughts. She was certain that Carter was the type to not entirely voice his feelings in order to avoid offending others. “You know that I’m not someone different, right? I’m your friend.”
“You’re my best friend,” Carter deadpanned the girl, making her smile sheepishly. “Yes, so! You shouldn’t be keeping things from me.”
“But I am not,” was a sentence that Carter had whined. “I’m really sure, sweets. Go and relax. I’ll leave soon, anyway.”
———
Carter was tired. He had been working all day, with barely any breaks at that. Customers were rude to him for no absolute reason and he had been trying not to snap at his co-workers since they didn’t really do anything to him – other than pester him to take their shifts, of course.
He was so close to exploding.
It was finally ten in the evening. The shop had finally closed and he had decided to take two days off as rest. His co-workers can go fuck themselves for being inconsiderate of his time and health.
The feeling of his back on the soft mattress of his bed was enough to send him to pure ecstasy. A soft sigh ensues from his brims, stretching his limbs as he felt truly relaxed. His apartment wasn’t that big, though it had enough space to make him feel comfortable. It was a space that he could call his home for the meantime until he can afford an actual house.
Before Carter knew it, he was eventually in dreamland.
Bellamy was pacing back and forth. It was night time in utopia, and she knew Carter would be asleep by this time. Both of them had been communicating (how? It’s a secret), the whole day and she knew the latter was pissed and most definitely tired. “What do I do?” she mumbled to herself, clasping her hands together as thoughts raced in her head. What would she bring Carter when she visits him in his dreams?
Bellamy had the capability to do that, amazing isn’t she? Sometimes, when she and Carter don’t get to hang out, she takes the liberty of invading his dreams as a sort of visit. This is where the ‘incident’ happened, actually. In his dreams where she made him do.. that in real life. Until now, even a few days has passed, Bellamy couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She felt really bad doing that to Carter. Even if the latter had insisted that he was okay with it, deep down she knew that he was somewhat lying about his true feelings
.
Bellamy didn’t know what to do… that was until she had an idea in mind.
A smile was finally on her lips.
With a snap of her fingers, a bunch of flowers appeared, making the smile on her lips grow wider at the sight. She thinks that this is enough of an apology for her dearest best friend, Carter. He was a simple man, right? She didn’t think this through, but she was already here in his dreams anyway.
“Huh,” she wanders, eyes flitting around the surroundings. It was bright, she noticed. How the sun was up and high, rays that would definitely hurt her skin weren’t hurting her at all; how the skies were certainly cerulean, fluffy clouds in different shapes floating around, and she couldn’t help but be in awe of it all. This wasn’t her doing for sure, but the Gods were probably granting Carter a favour right now, by giving him a dream that won’t haunt him when he wakes up.
Bellamy felt like she was in autopilot.
Her own two feet had moved, body following yet she had no idea where they will go. Being surrounded by scenic vistas was comforting to her, warmth spreading across her chest like wildfire, irises appreciating the view that was presented to her. It made her think that this was better than utopia – it seemed so natural, a true gift of Mother Nature to humankind.
Lithe fingers grasp multiple stems all at once, her smooth palm feeling more texture as she held the flowers in her hand. She looked around, observing her surroundings. Everything took her breath away. From the heavens above, even the fields that surrounded her below it. She could hear the birds chirp as they flew around – Bellamy couldn’t help but giggle in happiness.
After what she feels like almost an hour of searching, she finally sets her eyes on a figure lying on the flower field. A hint of a smile was present on her lips, slowly approaching the person before kneeling beside them.
He looked oddly peaceful. His arms were behind his head, serving as a resting area for it, probably, he was breathing evenly that you’d think he was asleep, and he was wearing all white. You’d think he was going to get married or somehow ascend towards heaven with how he looked. Bellamy had to admit that he had dressed up well for this dream – she didn’t know how that happened, but she couldn’t care less.
Gripping the bouquet on one hand, the other reaching out to poke Carter on the nose, she giggled as the latter had scrunched his nose. “What?” he questioned, slowly opening his eyes, blinking a few times to get a clearer version of the shadow in front of him.
“Oh, you’re here,” he told her, trying to sound bored and calm, but both of them knew that he was actually elated to see her. Carter looked at Bellamy’s face – she’s really, really pretty – irises twinkling, gleaming with joy at the sight of her looking down on him happily. Then his eyes go a bit down, an eyebrow raised at the flowers that were held tightly in her hands. “What are those for? Did you go around and pick? I didn’t see-”
But Bellamy cuts him off quick.
“These are for you,” she said softly, pushing the flowers towards him and it was Carter’s turn to sit up and face her. “Woah, what?” he mumbled in surprise, staring at the bouquet then at her. “What’s this for? I don’t – it’s not my birthday,” he added, blinking at her once, twice, maybe three times. Bellamy couldn’t help but let her smile grow wider at the sight. “It doesn’t have to be your birthday for me to offer you something, stupid.”
Carter pouted at her, lips pursing after at her response. “Okaaaay,” he drawled out. “But seriously, I don’t get it,” he truthfully said, leaning back and using his arms once again for support as he tilted his head at her in confusion. “What is this for? Did I genuinely forget an occasion or something?”
“It’s.. an apology.”
At the sudden admittance of truth, Carter only had to sigh in return. He had told his best friend a lot of times – she didn’t need to do anything to apologize, but apparently, Bellamy’s stubbornness had gotten the best of her.
The sight of Carter sighing had made her spirits down – did he not like it? What was he thinking? Bellamy was a bit close to panicking at this point, but Carter had always assured her, never failed to do so anyway. “Hey,” he called out to her, gently prying her fingers from the bouquet of flowers and taking it from her. Carter pushed the bouquet towards his nose, olfactory senses nothing but satisfied. “Did you freshly pick these?” he queried, eyelids closed as he focused on the aroma that the flowers gave.
Bellamy could only be flustered – how does she tell him that these magically appeared out of nowhere?
“Yeah,” a white lie, something she hoped that he didn’t notice. Carter, at hearing her curt response, laughed once more. A giggle turned into full-blown laughter, and it made Bellamy surprised as well. “What are you laughing for? What’s so funny? Do the flowers smell bad?” a mass of questioned were thrown towards her best friend, who was doing nothing but laugh at her.
“No, no,” Carter muttered in-between his giggling. A hand reaches out towards Bellamy, patting her hair softly as he looked at her gently. “You’re funny, trying to lie to me.”
“You hate bugs. There’s no way in hell you’re picking these up,” he mumbled. Bellamy blushes after being caught red-handed, and Carter just lays down once more, the flowers on his chest. “Hey,” Bellamy spoke, trying to get his attention. “Why is the flower placed like that? Why are you looking like that?”
“You look like you’re dying,” she muttered worriedly, trying to fix Carter’s position.
“Do you believe in lifetimes?”
Where was this sudden question coming from?
Bellamy, in turn, could only tilt her head in confusion. “Like what? Alternate universes?” she clarified, and Carter had nodded in response. “Yeah,” he curtly answered. “Do you believe in those?”
Both of them were silent for a while, Bellamy not really knowing what to say to him. Did she really believe in alternate universes? Did another version of her truly exist? Was it possible? The thoughts that were invading her head were making her have a headache, yet one glance at Carter was enough to know that he was serious – and that he believed in them.
“I do,” Bellamy answers without thinking that much.
“Me too,” another curt response. “I think that in another universe, I will find you again.”
“I don’t know when, but when we leave this world, I believe that I’ll find you again. I don’t know what situation we might be in, but I just know that the bond we have with each other isn’t something that’s easily forgotten. I guess we won’t really know how we’ll meet each other again, but...”
“Just know that in another lifetime, I will find you, and we’ll be together.”
“Where are we going? I don’t feel good about this.”
“Relax, Yvy! There’s nothing to be worried about. We’re in a safe place!”
“What the fuck was that?!”
“Uh-”
“Poet, for the love of God, please take this blindfold off.”
Yves had seen nothing but darkness since an hour ago; Poet had become his guide throughout the parts where they needed to move. He was wearing a blindfold inside the car, Poet promising him that they weren’t going to do anything dangerous – him and his sweet words – and Yves could not help but believe his best friend. Who was he to doubt anyway?
He would like to be real though. His best friend, Poet Rowe, was free-spirited. It would seem like Poet was a hedonist, and Yves assumed that he is considering the former had suggested a lot of things that required courage from him. He could still remember the time where Poet suggested that they go diving and Yves literally felt chills creep up on his spine – he wasn’t that much of a fan when it came to water, he was terrified of the seas. God knows what’s in there, but he tried to humor him anyway.
Now, an hour later after the car trip, the blindfold that was worn on him was finally taken off. After adjusting to the sunlight that was unkind to his eyes, a sound of surprise had come out of Yves’ throat. “You are not serious about this, right?” was the only response that had slipped out of his lips.
Yves didn’t have to think twice to identify where they were. It was a vast open area and there was already a team waiting for them, bowing towards Poet – he wasn’t surprised, fucking trust fund baby – and they were having a conversation with his driver. They were in a dive zone for fucking skydiving.
“I can’t believe you right now,” he mutters towards Poet, who was just smiling at him sheepishly. “C’mon! You did promise that we’d do this whenever I wanted to!” Poet tells him, boxy smile showing once more as he hooked his arm around his. Yves couldn’t do anything about it – they were here now, and God knows how much Poet paid for this. If he were to be honest, it wouldn’t dent his best friend’s bank account though his on the other hand…
“I did tell you that,” Yves agrees, making Poet look at him, smiling wider than before. “But I was pretty sure we were drinking when you suggested that – how did you even remember?”
Poet laughed loudly, something uncharacteristic if you didn’t know him, but as the best friend of the one and only Poet Rowe, you’d be surprised – genuinely – at how loud he was, and how carefree the latter was at the people he was close to, and Yves was definitely lucky to be part in that circle. Poet didn’t let anyone have the liberty of being his friend. In his world, there are traitors, and there were a lot of them. Poet was cautious and careful, never wanting his privacy to be breached by random people, strangers. Acquaintances remain to be acquaintances and unless he initiates more, they will simply remain as that.
Yves Montgomery was nothing but lucky – the man was just a baker and a radio host. His life wasn’t as lavish as Poet’s and though there was some distinction as to where they had their limits, Poet had ignored that, and continued to come for him anyway. And here they were, friends – no, best friends – for a long time already.
Let’s simply say that both of them consider themselves as lucky for having one another.
“You know me,” Poet says to him, a lithe finger pointing towards his brain. “I remember everything.”
“No you don’t.”
“Okay but we were having a moment. Did you have to call me out like that?” Poet feigns hurt in his voice, hand now dropping to his chest as if he was truly hurt. “You know what I mean,” was Yves’ lone reply, now getting dragged by Poet towards the team that was in front of the aircraft that would take them to the heavens later. “I thought we were going to bring Michelangelo though.”
“Do you want him to die?”
———
Fuck, the way Yves’ legs were shaking at this very moment wasn’t a joke – they were trembling so bad that even Poet regretted the slightest bit that they were going to skydive right now. Poet could see how Yves was doing from a few feet away – they were above ground now, surrounded by a team of professionals so that they end up being safe while they do this activity.
Poet glances at Yves once more and he was welcomed by the latter’s pale face. All of the color has gone out of Yves’ visage and he had to ask the staff if that was normal. “It is, please don’t worry,” the staff assures Poet, who was still looking at his best friend. “He was very persistent in continuing this, sir.”
Poet knew that Yves had a fear of heights, but that one talk about them facing their fears had him becoming brave – he just didn’t consult his friend first and that was a grave mistake on his part. Partially ignoring what Yves would feel during this activity slipped through his mind – he was so used to him agreeing to everything, and now seeing him shaking and pale, he had been having thoughts about whether or not they should continue this.
The staff just finished preparing him and his safety vest and he asked permission if they could come to Yves, who was still in the middle of putting additional safety on him, and the staff had agreed, noticing how Poet was probably agitated. Poet was quiet as he approached his best friend who looked at him curiously.
Despite his current state, Yves had never failed to comfort his friend. “Are you seriously looking like that while we’re here?” he asks Poet over the loud noise, trying to reach him by extending his hand, aiming for his shoulder. “I’m fine! Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s an experience, remember? We should face our fears in order to conquer it.”
Yves smiled at him so bright that Poet was convinced that he was entirely okay. If it wasn’t for his pale face and trembling hands, then he would believe him, but the fact that Yves was still willing to go for him made him elated and blessed – there was no way in hell someone would last with him if Poet kept doing these kind of surprising things.
Most people would get upset, tell him things and lecture him, but Yves really didn’t do that. Always assured him that he was okay, that he wasn’t offended, and when Poet asked if they could have a pet turtle, Yves didn’t hesitate to say yes to him, and now they were the parents of one year old Michelangelo. Yves had a dedicated corner to him in his bakery, where he made different kinds of things from his stints.
One moment, Poet wanted to do pottery, and the next week he was painting. Whenever he comes to the bakery that Yves owns, he always brings the finished product to him proudly. Poet would raise it with both of his hands, distracting not only Yves but some of his customers, masterpiece in hand. Poet remembers the particular memory where Poet arrived in his bakery at ten in the morning, proudly showing him his new pot.
Poet was nothing but excited, told Yves how hard he worked on it and how he should display it in his bakery – it happened a few more times, and that urged Yves to simply make a “Poet’s Corner” in his humble bakery.
Every piece that Poet gave to him was in that corner, inside a glass box. It was pretty special, mind you, because Yves didn’t want to make his best friend upset – he appreciates his efforts, may it be minimal or more. Every little trinket counts as a present. No matter how awful Poet thinks it looks like, Yves would always tell him that it’s not, and that he’s so elated that another masterpiece will grace Poet’s Corner.
Poet was brought to reality once more; the ringing of the aircraft was present in his ears, his best friend trying to even his breathing. The staff was talking to him about extra safety precautions, but he didn’t really mind – he knew what he was doing and that seemed pretty fucking dangerous, ignoring the professional, but he knows he’s safe.
“Hey,” Poet calls out to Yves once more.
“Poet,” with just a call of his name, Yves reassures him once more. “I’m okay, don’t worry. Let’s do this, yeah?”
Poet could only nod.
A few minutes later, they were getting ready to do what they’ve been planning to do – well, half-planned.
Yves and Poet could only focus on themselves, trying to steady their beating hearts. They were, what? 30, 40, 50 thousand feet up in the air? Both of them really didn’t know anymore, but the most important thing was that, in tackling this milestone, this one part of their bucket list, they are together, and it’s more than what they could have asked for.
“Go!”
“Holy fuck- aah!”
Both of them were screaming their hearts out, and they were so sure it was out of fear at first. Poet was slightly regretting it, the fear that seeped into his veins as he saw they were freefalling towards land. He was listening to the man behind him, guiding him on what to do, but it just went out one ear to the other. Poet could only hear his thumping heart, its erratic beating ringing in his ears.
“Woah! This is so cool!”
Yves, after screaming for probably a solid two minutes, was now laughing in appreciation. He quickly made up his mind, that after this whole screamfest he would have from overwhelming fear, he would enjoy the moment. He felt lightheaded, the wind crashing to his body, whipping his hair in different places – it was cold, but he felt so warm inside.
Everything seemed so slow all of a sudden.
Poet looked at his best friend – his own best friend that was terrified out of his wits a few minutes ago, and was now enjoying the free fall. He was going to be honest, he was this close to backing out of this whole thing because he felt bad – one look at Yves’ pale face and trembling fingers was enough to snap him out of his trance. But Yves was always quick to put an end to his thoughts.
Now, Poet felt like he could breathe easily and enjoy this whole thing. It only took one look at Yves for Poet to want to do the same – laugh and enjoy the moment. He spread his arms, looking like an unattractive baby bird because of the wind that had swept his hair everywhere, but it was nothing compared to the burst of happiness that now spread towards his body as he’s freefalling with his best friend.
“Poet!”
He turned his head to where the voice came from.
“The last one who lands owes the winner some dinner!”
Poet couldn’t help but laugh louder.
“You’re on, Montgomery!”
