Early mornings in Bali when the homeless was still asleep against the walls of the buildings, snoring; when the only one who would be awake at this ungodly hour was the teenage boy throwing rolls of freshly-printed newspapers at doorsteps; or when I would always wake up two hours earlier than my usual alarm just to talk to him for a few minutes. With my elbows placed on my open windowstill, I watched him ride your white Brompton 6HL bicycle and the shadowed figure was getting closer and closer towards me. Two houses away, I strolled outside and waved.
“Hey loser,” he grinned.
We sat on the pavement and talked. I remember how his eyes sparkled when he brought up how Arsenal managed to won the premier league against Crystal Palace. I was never a fan of soccer, really-- but I spent the last night watching the game just so I could talk to him about it. Though I didn’t get my recommended eight hours of sleep, it was all worth it.
We never usually get to talk very long. It didn’t matter to me, though. As long as I get to talk to him, everything would be fine. He stood up and offered his hand to help me up. As our fingers touch I swear I felt electricity running in my hand. My heart pounded as I stood up and brushed off my sweatpants from dirt.
“See ya tomorrow, buttercup,” he smirked. I watched him throw rolls of newspapers at my neighbors’ doorsteps until I couldn’t see him and his white bicycle anymore. I remember I still had butterflies in my stomach even after he left. I walked back inside and fell back asleep.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. All my mind could think of was him - how his eyes looked at mine, or how he smirked at me before he left, or how he called me buttercup. He was always on my mind. I still remember the way he would always fidget and move whenever he talked about something he was genuinely passionate about. I remember the way the ends of his eyes form lines whenever he laughed. I remember the time when he told me his mother gave him a baby blue readjustable bracelet as his 2nd birthday - and how he hasn’t stopped wearing it since.
However, the next morning I didn't see him or his bike. At first I convinced myself that he was just simply late, so I waited an hour outside for him.
He never came.
Or the next day after that. It was like he just magically disappeared off of the planet Earth! I didn't know where he works at either because I never bothered to ask him (looking back at this, I regret that I didn't). Every day I wake up in hopes to see him again.
That was the last time I saw him. As months go by, forgetting about him and moving on was becoming easier. Hanging out with friends on the beach one mile away from my house helped a lot. My mind was completely free of him after half a year since I last saw him.
On a particular Tuesday, everything changed. My friends and I planned to watch the sunrise at a nearby beach, so I woke up early. I walked outside and locked my door when suddenly a familiar voice said, "Miss me, buttercup?"
Jennifer Lee | About the Author
Hi! My name is Jennifer Lee but usually everyone calls me Jen. I recently turned seventeen and I love writing. I don't have a specific topic or genre I love to write - I like to be flexible. Besides that, I love expressing my creativity through nail art. I have been doing my own nails since the start of quarantine, and I have no regrets. I also really enjoy STEM subjects at school, especially chemistry. Though I'm not good at sports, I love running, badminton, swimming, and tennis. I hope you have a great day!
Comments
Post a Comment