02:24 AM, Saturday

3.5K 270 489
                                    

Darryl could've used a million words to describe him and it still wouldn't have been enough. He nibbled the tip of his pen thoughtfully, adjusting himself so the moonlight could shine directly on top of his sketchbook. He wished his drawings could do Zak's beauty justice. He wished he could show the depth in his eyes that he found himself consumed in mid-conversation. He wished he could draw the way his skin glowed in the sunlight, and the way he made Darryl's heart come to a screeching halt when he held his hand nearly a week before. He reminded him of the moon, with one part almost always hidden. With a sigh, he closed his sketchbook, flicking the mess of scribbled pages on top of each other and pushing it aside on a patch of the surrounding grass he lied in. The river bank seemed like the most suitable place to escape the reality of his current situation. His body shivered through the absence of a jacket, and he began to wish that he had remembered how cold the air could be in the early hours of the morning, although he was usually pretty resistant to the cold due to the regular midnight walks he'd take back home.

He shuffled around in the grass he was surrounded by, letting his gaze travel up to the clear stretch of night sky watching over the expanse of earth he was sat on. The stars, with no darkness of cloud intruding their hazy shine, stared straight back at him, making him start to doubt the idea that they were multi-millions of miles away from his eyes, instead of within touching distance.

He couldn't help a soft smile spread throughout his face as he fixed his gaze at the North Star. The North Star, that had saved the lives of many travellers, from the Inuits of the North, to the pilgrimage-makers in the region of southern Asia. A pinpoint light in the sky had the power and ability to guide people back to safety. A pinpoint light that was therefore heavily relied on through countless generations due to its mere positioning in the sky. It was incomprehensive how many lifetimes this star had shone over. How many loves it must have witnessed. How many lives, how many deaths, how many dream-led idiots lying in grass staring at it when they should have been sleeping like everyone else.

He wondered if the comparison of humans to stars could go as far as considering that every human had the equivalent to the North Star for them. Someone who would guide them through their own pilgrimage-type tasks life threw at them. Someone who would see them through the happiest and darkest of their days. A soulmate who would always be there regardless of the situation, or whether or not they're noticeable, just like the North Star in the daytime, although overshadowed by the blueness of day, still there.

He guessed the only struggle in this was the finding of his own metaphorical North Star, more commonly referred to as "the one" by most others.

He often thought over how many possible human lives had been completely dedicated to finding "the one." Most never do. It's considered something "lucky." And, honestly speaking, he wasn't exactly known for his astounding luck with anything, let alone something as far-fetched as love. To love, he was a complete alien. He didn't really know how to love, how to understand love, or even fully comprehend the entire concept of love.

He sighed, his eyes breaking contact with the North Star and trailing over his surroundings engulfed in the long grass. Maybe he wouldn't ever be considered lucky. But he was doubtful towards the fact that everything always had to come down to 'luck' all the time. It was blamed for everything, from winning a round of bingo at the local bar, to something as life-changing as finding this "one." It was as if there was no first-hand responsibility for a human's choices and actions. Because, apparently, the concept of luck was to be held responsible for everything.

"Are you alright, Darryl?" A voice suddenly whispered, but he didn't jump. Instead, he slowly peered around to see a tired-looking Zak exiting the tent and seating himself beside Darryl on the damp grass.

drowning in violet - skephaloМесто, где живут истории. Откройте их для себя