I'll Share With You My Heartbeat

thirty one

Following a ghost through the damp streets of this town under nothing but moonlight was epiphany and surrealism rolled into one.

Lennon resented the part of him that brimmed with curiosity, the part of him that always had too much to ask. And though he knew the ravenhead would never complain about his endless chatter, now didn't seem like the time. So he pulled his jacket closer and pursed his lips, trailing behind Kieran.

Kieran pretended to brisk along the pavements with ease, though his expression remained stony and he didn't dare spare the chestnut boy a glance. He couldn't stand to see the shine of dried tear tracks on Lennon's cheeks under the streetlamps, knowing that he was the cause of it. Instead he relied on the boy's cautious footsteps to reassure himself that Lennon was following closely behind.

After minutes and minutes of stretched silence, Kieran finally stopped in front of a building with two pillars guarding the entrance and an archway that presented the name Curtain Call Studios, the Cs and S overlapping in excessive cursive. Puffing out a quiet sigh, he turned to Lennon.

The boy gawked at him with the biggest eyes Kieran had ever seen on him, twiddling with his fingers.

Smile surfacing despite the burden in his chest, the ravenhead gestured him to come closer before planting a kiss on Lennon's forehead. "Go ahead," he said, reading his mind, "Ask."

"Where are we?" Lennon blurted, eyes darting in all directions before settling on Kieran again, "What are we doing here, Kier? Did something bad happen? I noticed— I noticed how tense you were." He gripped his backpack strap more securely and wished it was the ravenhead's hand he was gripping onto instead.

Kieran blinked. Oh. Guess he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was.

"I'm okay," he reassured, "Just a little shaken."

"Why?" Lennon frowned, worry clouding his irises.

The Adam's apple in his throat bobbed nervously as he brushed his transparent fingers against the boy's. "I want you to know every part of me. Want you to know that I value you even if I can't stick around to show it," he whispered. His voice was soft, yet it held so much gravity. He paused briefly. "I used to dance here."

Lennon's lips parted with a gentle oh, mind flashing back to the time when Kieran could barely offer him his name. Now he offered the most important aspects of himself, the most vulnerable parts.

Another troubled exhale. "I remember it all now," the ravenhead continued, "I fought so hard for a spot in this studio." There was a tint of sadness in his words. Like recollecting his memories has finally allowed him to mourn all the things he had lost. "It's all gone now. None of it exists."

"I'm sorry," the chestnut boy murmured by his ear, sensing Kieran's need for closeness. His hand was raised with visible hesitance, palm open and welcoming. The ravenhead leaned his cheek into it immediately.

"Autumn laughed at me when I told them I was a ballet and contemporary dancer," Kieran continued with a pained chuckle, "Said that the discipline I underwent during my training must've came crashing back down on me, hence the drastic change of personality when I first woke." He shrugged when he noticed the question in Lennon's dark eyes. "I wish they were joking. But it made sense. I was so disciplined and routine-bound— of course a change as big as my parents' divorce tipped me over."

Lennon watched Kieran swallow the lump in his throat before he continued.

"It's heavy, Len," he muttered, words coming out punctured like bullets ripping through his chest, "This feeling that I know everything of the old me and nothing at all. Like I'm trying to gather all these memories and sort out all its timelines and cause and effects." Kieran looked at the chestnut boy sadly.