My Hands Untied

I’m an incredibly sentimental person. Or rather, I’m pre-sentimental, if that word exists. After I’ve parted from someone, most of the times I don’t think about them anymore, even though I should, but the time before we part, the thought that I’m going to loose them is horrible to me.
This knowledge doesn’t make it easier to bear though, so while we were lying on the grass back then, I couldn’t but think, Oh heavens, this all will end. It will never, ever be the same again.
I’ve told him, although I normally don’t do this kind of thing- just speaking out loud what is on my mind. All in all, it is strange how I much I feel capable of doing, of saying, just because it’s him sitting there, and no one else. It’s a pity that I couldn’t see his face when he heard my words, but when he answered I could hear the smile in his voice; a bit sad, but still sweet.
Don’t be so negative, he said, It doesn’t have to. And instead of saying more, he just took my hand (again) and stroked my knuckles, my fingers, as I returned the gesture. I think he’s got beautiful hands, but, although I feel so save around him, I never dared to tell- or never found the right time to.
A few hours before I had told an other friend of mine, that I wanted this night to be one that I would remember for the rest of my life; and God, it was.

We left the group, later, because he was angry, and I just didn’t want to let him go just then. It was such a wonderful night, cold and clear; me in his vest and my own coat, running after him, who was just wearing a thin sweater. You should feel honoured, I said, when I finally reached him, I don’t normally follow people in this way. It wasn‘t a lie, technically, for I never followed anyone in quite the same fashion, but in another way, it was. I always follow, never wait.
I can’t recall what he answered, but I remember that we walked, until we couldn’t hear them scream anymore; until we had solid floor under our feet again. Sometime, along the way, he said he was cold, and I took off my coat to hand it to him (I still had his vest, it was only fair) but he refused. Won’t you be cold, he asked, and I denied the fact, that I was already. To be honest, I think I would have taken off even my shirt, if it would have meant that he’d stay warm.
It could be because I’m a horrible liar, or because he might be able to read me so well after such a short time, but he didn’t take it, and when I tried to wrap it around him, he just ran away. And I followed, again.
Still, I couldn’t reach him, not for some time, until I took a shortcut, and succeeded in grabbing his shirt. Not that it stopped him; he was too strong, or I was too frail, so in the end, I fell down onto the floor.
Are you alright, he asked, looking down on me all concerned, and I smiled, said yes, as he held out his hand for me to take. When I was standing upright again, he looked at me again, narrowed his eyes and started brushing off the dirt that was still clinging to my clothes- or rather his vest. This time he took the coat, without resisting. He asked, Do we want to go back to the group yet?   I shook my head, but didn’t tell that I didn’t want to go back, ever.
So we sat down on the pavement, and talked, about nothing in particular, and if we did, I can’t remember. Again, I’m not sure, but I think, I held his hand, until he decided that indeed it was time to go back. And I? I couldn’t say no. But then I looked upwards and the stars were shining so brightly, more so then they do in the city, and I held him back. We’re going to look at the stars, I said; he looked at me, but didn’t resist as I pushed him down to the floor, as gently as I could manage. And so we lay back, both looking up to the sky. It’s a mystery to me who said it, but one of us did: The longer you look at them, the more stars there are. We both agreed. Maybe it’s because you get more accustomed to the dark sky, I tried to explain, And while you do, you start noticing the ones that don’t shine so brightly. He nodded, and then we didn’t say anything for some time.
I thought and still think that it would have been so fitting to kiss, on the grass, under the starlit sky, but we didn’t, and I’m glad, for, even if no one believes us, we’re just not in love, even if we should be. Still, I think about it, from now and then, what would have happened, and if he felt it too.
And then, out of nowhere, I believe, he asked me a question, one that I had been forced to answer little time before. The first time it was asked, I lied, and so I did then.
The topic shifted, but the longing I had felt before (just let the words leave your mouth, since it isn’t a horrible truth, and somehow everyone knows already) just took overhand. And so I opened my mind for him to hear, on the grass, under the starlit sky.
It did feel right (it still does) and in this moment I felt closer to him than to the rest of the world.
He just asked one other question, and my answer was truthful again. I don’t know if it was to lighten the mood, because it had become rather serious, or just to make me feel a little better (with him, both is possible), but he told me, he was the same. I did know it before, everyone did, but it didn’t matter; the gesture was all that counted.
I forgot what we talked about afterwards, but I think, somewhere in the middle I told him, how happy I was that he was there with me, but I can’t recall his reaction, although I wish I would. As I stared shivering, he asked if I was freezing again; I denied, in order not to make him take off the coat I had given him (he looked so sweet with it on). Are you lying to me, he asked in the gentlest tone, and I couldn’t help but reply, A little. But it’s not bad.
He didn’t take it off, although I think he moved a little closer.

No one thought about returning, I believe, when his phone suddenly started ringing; at least he didn’t seem pleased to my eyes. It was someone we actually should have been with, asking where we were. He said, Close, and We’ll be right there. Then, We have to go, to me and in that moment I thought, we would make such a good romantic comedy, if we were in love. The others appeared, and parted us; and although it wasn’t a problem, it was sad, for with this, everything ended a little bit. The rest of the night was beautiful, yes, but nothing compared to those few minutes.

I was right though, since in the next morning it had ended a little bit more, and until now, a lot of the closeness we shared has vanished. But I can’t help but hope, and believe, that it won’t be washed away completely, for I have faith in me, and as well, I have faith in him. And most of all, I have faith that the bound that ties us together is strong enough to last.