I'll Share With You My Heartbeat

twenty six

Lennon had concluded a long time ago that time machines were compatible with temptation.

He was four when he left his doll on a train during a family vacation. His parents decided to comfort him by allowing him ice cream and more telly-time. Though the plan backfired when the boy tried to reach into the television and snatch the Flintstones' fancy machine, throwing a childish fit right after realizing it was unachievable.

"Now now," his mother cooed, repeatedly tracing an index finger between his eyebrows in a downward motion. Apparently she had read in a parenting book somewhere that the gesture soothed babies. Lennon Curio was a child then and he was an adult now, but that didn't stop his mother from continuing the habit, regardless of whether or not it worked. "What's the matter?"

"Want it back."

Lennon's mother spotted the machine on the screen and turned back to her son, smiling in understanding. "You want to go back in time? For your doll?"

He nodded his head feverishly. Back then, his hair was more brownish than reddish.

"So what happens when you go back? How about all the things that happened after? How about ice cream and television?" She raised her eyebrows in amusement. "You'd lose those moments."

Then his father would chortle from the next room that he was too young to understand. He always did whenever she served her son a plate of sophistication. But years of these questions translated into Lennon's inner voice.

And he understood now.

It sat in the pit of his stomach— that time machine.

There was a stony silence that forged a wall between Kieran and him, standing awkwardly amidst strangers on a moving bus. Neither of them made the move to speak, avoiding each other's gaze.

Lennon wetted his lips and stared down at their feet, gripping tight onto the pole. Shredded sunlight flickered across their shoes as the vehicle sped past buildings and parks, transporting and dropping off passengers like any other day. Yet it felt like the world had stopped for Lennon. Like he had accidentally nudged a few buttons and the time machine had whirled to life, seized him and this— this deceased boy that he had one too many feelings for and locked them in a room.

This temptation. It rose from his throat. And though it was impossible, his thoughts engulfed every what if. What if he could turn back to when he didn't fear commitment? What if he could turn back to before Kieran gave up on himself? Then maybe the ravenhead wouldn't be trembling next to him, jaw tense and eyes glued to the floor. Then maybe Lennon could've held him like a normal human being would, whisper sweet things in his ear to calm him.

With a surge of impulse, the chestnut boy decided to look up, heart skipping over its rhythm when Kieran did the same, their eyes meeting coincidentally.

The ravenhead's gaze wavered, thick brows pinching together before looking away again right as the bus jerked, unable to maintain eye contact.

Lennon sucked his cheeks in, dismay swirling in his tummy. Kieran radiated uncertainty, unwilling to even stand any closer than two feet away from the boy. It made him wonder if Kieran regretted— the half-confessions, the kisses, everything.

Suddenly, the ravenhead eliminated the space between them, standing parallel to Lennon as he buried his face in the boy's neck.

Lennon inhaled sharply, stiff as a board.

Guess he was wrong.

"Kier," he muttered under his breath, lips barely moving. It was the second time within that hour that the ravenhead had shocked him into this state. Lennon reached into his pocket, searching for his phone so he could openly speak to him.