who he loves

There was a window.

There was a girl who got out of the car, tilting her head back at the sun’s last rays sinking closer to the horizon like the budding romantic tension that was about to occur.

She was about to die underneath it.

Anyway, the girl went inside the house. Her family and the one they were friends with were laughing and chatting jovially and socially, all the kids getting together and organizing games to play.

There was no one who seemed her age exactly, so… she sat at the kitchen table and eavesdropped on her mom’s conversation with this family’s matriarch.

They were really hitting it off. Though there wasn’t anyone she could really hang out with (it appeared), the girl really enjoyed being in the environment.

There was the dad who was super funny and big-shouldered and warm, loud. She immediately loved him.

But then there was the window. The fucking window. Yep.

There was a room upstairs that the girl had not been to yet, because of course she hadn’t, they’d just gotten there from their long flight and layovers to stay with these people for a week or so, and the girl wouldn’t dream of being rude and just sneaking off to investigate their house or something.

So she would have no way of knowing.

There was, in the room connected to and behind the window mentioned before, a boy.

There was going to be a problem with this boy.

The girl was going to realize this soon enough.

Better enjoy her heart while it’s still her own.

Then it was time for the dinner of freshly grilled deliciously seasoned burgers and steak. The girl was eagerly digging into her helping when she paused as the boy came down the stairs from the landing leading to the upstairs.

He was… beautiful.

There was just something immediately about him. He looked to be a few years older than she. But she immediately had trouble swallowing her bite of steak (more than normal).

He was a little quirky, but she didn’t mind she liked it. She liked nerdy weird guys. She was pretty nerdy and weird herself.

He was nice. They talked a little bit, being pretty close in age compared to the rest of the kids of the parents there.

He excused himself after a while and went upstairs, barely touching his plate before giving it to his older brother to finish.

Her curiosity was getting intense. It might make her head explode (we’ll see).

His room was very neat. Did he even live in it? Sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he escaped. There was a window he would stand in front of, or hiding behind its curtains, peeking out cautiously into the sunset or midnight stars, his eyes glazed over with not lust, but a far off vision of a woman he loved. His parents would be elated to hear he had a girlfriend, right? Why shouldn’t they be? Well… it wasn’t that simple. Here’s why. His magical moments of stolen escapism under twilight and orange Saturn rings like Jupiter some fantasy mythological being he became under cover of evening light… it was… unique. To say the least. His box was in the closet. Well-hidden. If his mother saw it sitting in the corner inconspicuously, she wouldn’t think anything of it. He was neat. Tidy. Normal. He was fine. He was normal. He was okay. He was a good student. A good brother. An older and younger one! But the woman he loved, all he needed to see her, to connect with her, to feel her breath and softness and warmth against his cheek was to reach inside that box. See her reflection in his window, ever so faintly so as not to ruin the illusion of her. Stand in front of the curtain looking out the window and pretend he was somewhere else. With her. The woman he loved.