Two Makes A Pair

• You (mei) Li, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2018

A frigid wind tore through the numerous layer he wore. It was the dead of winter and Vincent was outside. Why? Because Lucas had asked him to be; and no one, not even Vincent could say no to Lucas. Vincent peered up at the sky, now painted in watercolours of blemished blues and glooming greys; completely contrasting the skies Lucas and him once lay beneath, watery sun stroked by blushing pinks and blistering purples. Where they would work side by side in isolated silence. Pencils pressed to paper. Fingers running through hair. Pinkies and thumbs interlaced. Admiring art in the form of one another’s presence.

Vincent hadn’t noticed then; but Lucas would become the greatest source of happiness in his life and when he did notice. It was already too late. And so Lucas would become the greatest source of depression in his life. They had promised one another. Promised one another that they would always be there for one another. That even if the pair were destined to become the sun and moon in their next life they would find solstice in the eclipse. But Lucas had broken that promise. And Vincent had been too busy, utterly drenched in malheureux to be even the slightest infuriated. But even if he wasn’t drowning in an ocean of his own tears; he still wouldn’t have been indignant towards Lucas in his failure to hold their promise because no one, not even Vincent could be angry at Lucas (at least not for long).

Vincent hadn’t known then. But he loved Lucas; too naive and imprisoned in society’s fervency to realise his utter agape towards Lucas. And when he finally did notice. It was already too late. It was already too late for him to tell Lucas that he was intoxicated by the way Lucas always seemed to smell like the salty ocean and fresh air despite the nearest ocean being hundreds of kilometres away. How Lucas’ hands were the softest texture he’d felt. The way he adored Lucas’ height and fact that he barely made it past Vincent’s own collar bones. How his smile was brighter than the gleaming August sun. He regretted not telling Lucas that he adored every single flaw, every single scar, every molecule, and every impossibly microscopic particle that made up Lucas. His Lucas; but most of all his biggest regret was simply not telling Lucas those three words. Attrition for not letting Lucas hear him say ‘I love you’. Vincent knew that Lucas knew. Vincent knew that Lucas knew that he loved (and still loves) him with his entire heart. And he hopes that Lucas still knows. But still he regretted not letting those words form around his lips and vibrate through his vocal folds; Vincent loved and still loves Lucas because no one, not even Vincent could not love Lucas.

It was too late now. One year. Three hundred and sixty five days. And Vincent was still in malheureux because Lucas was never coming back.