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To see within is to see without a light. Wilhelm had known, from that first night under the stars, that he was trespassing into an area unknown. Under the dark night sky, his stomach flipped and his palms were sweating. The unknown scared him: the possibility of falling without anyone to catch him ( Was this falling? ).
Who’d have thought that they’d break the things they liked? It was never his intention to hurt Simon. Hurt came naturally, the pleasure with the pain. Wilhelm’s life always seemed to follow that tragic pattern. It seemed that everything he touched broke despite how carefully he held it ( Gently, with cupped hands and soft grazes of touch ).
To find a stone just to bounce across a pond, that’s what Simon must have thought he had done. All of the times Wilhelm led him on without thinking, without knowing what he was doing. He was just confused, really. He had never meant to do any harm. The stone left his hand without thinking, without his conscious permission. It skipped a few times, settling into the water with a splash that reached Wilhelm himself. Is the path it made a clue to what he should be expecting next?
His hair curled in the damp of night. Wilhelm had loved to run his hands through Simon’s hair, comforting himself more than it did Simon. Wilhelm would drape his body over Simon’s shoulder, letting his face drift into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. The scent recalled like a photograph with life, the memory imprinted in Wilhelm’s mind, engraved with all of his present sensations.
Simon’s hair, it curled like the depth of the night. That was what Wilhelm noticed, truly, when Simon hoisted him up from the fake grass and let Wilhelm lean on his shoulder. The curls were complex and random, and it fascinated Wilhelm to no end. The scent recalled like a photograph with life. The smell of the dark night air, his own smell of alcohol.
To live without is to live under a spell. Since the video had been released, and Simon told Wilhelm goodbye, Wilhelm had wandered under a trance. The days of Christmas break seemed longer, dryer. The palace was filled with muffled silence. Wilhelm felt like he was traversing through swamps as he dragged his feet through the hallways.
Who’d have thought that they’d turn their home to hell? They had been so happy, and it had all gone to waste. Wilhelm thought, silently, that it was his fault. Simon would agree , he convinced himself. He dug his nails into his scalp at night, warding the panicked thoughts away when the dark beckoned him under.
To find a bone and to float it down the stream, it’s the path it takes that's a clue to many greens. The path that Simon and Wilhelm had followed was filled with rocks and white water, a bone being pulled under by the rough waves. Their happiness had been short lasting, and, Wilhelm convinced himself, it was inevitable .
His hair curled in the damp of the night. Wilhelm clung to the memory like a lifeline tossed down to him, desperate and searching. He was sure that Simon wouldn’t want him anymore, no matter how he tried to make up for his mistakes. So he held onto their memories, to the scent that recalled like a photograph with life.
He could picture Simon’s woolen coat under yellow sodium lights at all times of day. His thoughts echoed with Simon, Simon, Simon . Every minuscule detail recorded the air like a memory of night, stuck on repeat in Wilhelm’s mind. He was an unwilling victim, caught in Simon’s current.
Simon’s hair would always curl in the damp of night; Wilhelm could see it even from a distance. Simon would grin, shoving his hands in his pockets and ducking his head from view, and Wilhelm’s heart would pound. The scent would still recall like a photograph with life; the soft wind against their backs, the chatter of the other students, the party ambience.
That woolen coat under those sodium lights. Wilhelm always felt the urge to pull Simon into him, melting their bones together and fating them to be together forever. Wilhelm remembered the way the lights shined on Simon’s face, their forces colliding. His smile recorded the air like the memory of a night.