The Boy Without A Name

Chapter Nineteen

Submerging suburbs in Solar's strengthful sentience, the world was made of a rather spectacular speculum, illustrated in the image of an artisan's classic-treasure, somehow deformed by the human calibre, but essentially, seen through his emerald city, it was a testament of the tenacious, the pestering persistent forces of the universe that had brought them together, to this momentous occasion-weather.

Scots bluebells benignantly embellished the scenic lake, blooming and budding, waving winsomely with the wind, beaming at him and instilling an environmental euphoria simply imperceptible to the eyes. Charmed love-channel of his heart desired to be bedecked in the hues of his charisma, to be veneered in this colour chromism of his persona, wherein he'd be lost in his essence, the more he'd try to find him; the man of his dreams.

"I want to try somethin', grey eyes." He interceded softly pulling Emmett away from his trance-like state.

"What is it?" Emmett asked.

"Remember the engraving on that wacky treehouse?" The boy questioned, as he approached the beautiful tree.

"Yes, I suppose." Emmett nodded, eyeing him with curiosity.

"Well, I'd like to ingrain a word or two on this lime tree of yours." He motioned towards the aforementioned tree.

"I wouldn't mind that. But I am curious to know as to why you'd choose this place." Emmett inquired, interestingly.

"That is simple, mate. This tree is special, ain't it? And it understandably reminds me of you, and our relationship. It will be a sweet memoir of our bond, and then I'd like you to be protected from those ghastly devilish ghouls that you were talking about, earlier and other negative vibes, and whatnot. I'd like to guard our love under this ceremoniously small leavened lime tree, plant this pome of our tie-in." He summarised, giving him a soft smile.

Sweetened honeydew on a day unlike, he had the light to brighten up the moor like a moon in the hindsight, Emmett was certain about that. With an exceptional expression of love and care that might make someone soar high in the sky like a kite, with an angelic hue imbibed, through wings that flutter-float against the life-tide, he was perfection well-defined. Feeling quite overwhelmed with his words, Emmett was affected with this affiliation, solemnly spell bounded by the sensuousness of this splendid occasion.

"And, we are done, darlin'. Come, have a look at it." He called out from behind the tree, beckoning him over to see his masterpiece.

"Manus in mano ad meliora." Emmett tested the words on his tongue, feeling a bit unsure regarding their pronunciation.

"Hand in hand, to better things." The stranger announced, staring at his handiwork in appraisal.

"This is exceptional." Emmett looked at it in disbelief.

"You are exceptional to me, darlin'." He stated, pulling him closer to him.

"I'd like to say otherwise." Was all Emmett could say, entranced by him.

"You can try, sweetheart." He slyly commented before leaning into him.

He tasted like festive flavour, flamboyant and dazzling as if representing some distinctive dreamcatchers strung and alight like fairy lights on the dome of this lively heart-heather, he was mirth to his laughter, life to his stream, and heart to his psyche, a rainbow glimmer-glamour, his touch was simply celestial. Whilst his fingers traced his skin sensitively, making him feel like the Goddess Fulgora since he felt lightening upon his every touch, swivelling and spiralling out of his possession as if he was translucent and exclusively transcendent, a fact ultimately defining his purpose on this Earth, all because of him, the stranger who had stolen his name.