Soulmates never Die

Prepare.

  I stare down at my bedroom floor. It's always been so plain. White. Just white. This white carpet that's got few stains and is always vacuumed cause that's all my mother used to do in her free time. I sigh lightly and my hazel eyes scope the beige room. Plain.

Maybe that's how everyone will remember me. Plain. He was plain. Not very interesting. He didn't have any friends nor did he matter to any of the few associates he had. For a teenage male with no dating experience he matched the stereotype.
  Once again, I sigh.

  I grab my bag and look at the small framed mirror. I look at my face, my wide hazel eyes. This is what they see. I look deeper into the mirror, stepping closer. My eyes are tired, lost.. I look at my tousled and short brown faux hawk. Being only 5'1" I fit perfectly into the small mirror. I breathe deeply and look down at my plaid flannel and ripped jeans, that were honestly too tight, and my converse.
  He fit the stereotype perfectly.

  I sit on my bench. This small wooden bench beside the football field of my old school. This place that meant nothing to me. That I meant nothing to. I look at the deep sky. I feel so small looking up at those clouds, the wide and beautiful picture makes me feel closer to the ground.
  I hear mumbling behind the nearest bleachers before my heart slams into oblivion.

  It's him. His broad chest outlines perfectly by that compression shirt he has on. Oh my. I look down at my frail and broken frame. He can't see me. I look dead. I silently laugh at my own personal joke.
  I look up to see him slowly approaching me. I set my bag beside me and prepare myself to look fucking stupid.

"Hey.. you're that kid that passed out like a month ago, yea?" His deep voice carries so easily that it echoes off the bleachers, my body vibrates as he speaks and I try not to make eye contact. His mouth. I glance at his perfect and full lips. Nope. Bad idea.

I nod quickly, a very wrong feeling. I cough heavily, the gooey feeling of my insides tearing taking me by surprise. I feel too much. Stop feeling. He bends over quickly and sets his large hand at the base of my small back. "Hey, you okay..?" His concerned expression becomes extremely apparent when I look up to see his masculine face inches from mine. I trembly slightly as my lips hang open. I steady my breathing and take out my breathing mask from my bag. Inside the bag is the machine that keeps me alive. I breathe in it a few times then give him a weak smile, slowly nodding. He isn't gay. It can't be. I can't keep dreaming. Plus I'm dying so it's fucking stupid to even think...
  He inches closer, making my breathing become less steady. Oh no. My eyes widen and I look into his eyes. In my eyes he's a thousand miles away but to my heart he's only three seconds. I prepare myself and smile, my face heating harshly. I know I'm blushing and try to shoo it away.
  "You're-... you're very.." he stumbles over his words as his face draws nearer. Please kiss me..

  I sigh and almost give in.

  "Hey Brax!! What you doing man!!"

  A hound male shouts from the other side of the field making both of us jump away. He stands upright and clears his theory aggressively. "Uhm.. yea.. I was just checking on... Wh-What was your name again?" He asks me. I go to speak and his friend shouts once more, making me blush.
  "Awe that's cool..! Well cmon dude.. we got practice!!" He laughs and take off across the field where a group of large men in exercising clothes are beginning to gather.

  Braxton looks over at them then me. "It was.. nice seeing you." He blushes slightly and scratches his scalp through his perfectly tousled blonde hair. "We should hang out, yea?" He chuckles and glances at me.

I nod and smile. Yes. Yes we should. Please.

He smiles brightly and jogs off.

Oh my.