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A man who wore a thigh-length blazer that was the color of the midnight sky was rushing through the suffocating crowds of London; all of them heading the opposite direction that he was dashing towards. The man, whose vest and pants were the hue of a cloud that held an abundance of rain in it, and whose dress shirt was only a hint darker, held a gorgeous bouquet containing pink, white, and red flowers; lilies, roses, carnations and tulips peeking their petals out of the plastic wrap, hoping to get a glimpse of the bustling street before them.
The man, whose paperboy hat, tie, and neatly-laced oxford shoes that were the shade of a priest’s robe, uttered soft, small apologies to the people he unintentionally bumped into. His poor eyesight made reaching his destination even harder; for he feared stepping on to one of the passerby’s shoes, and even dreaded the possible altercation that would happen if he did, for it seemed that by just existing, the whole world had already turned against him.
Except for one person.
And despite the spiteful inhabitants of London who were dressed in the finest of silks, he didn’t seem to care if they gave him a foul devil’s glare; for he was to meet with the only person who treated him kindly, and the only one to look at him like a human being.
Making his way out of the sea of wealthy pedestrians, he entered a park that was covered in the upmost of maintained foliage and sprouting roses, the thick oak trees looming over his own tall stature, presenting him with an alleviating, cool shade.
His eyes darted all throughout the park, looking for his closest and only companion. He desperately prayed that he was not late, and hoped that he did not make her wait too long.
“Good afternoon, Andrew,” A soft voice called out to him from behind. “Thank you for coming.”
He turned towards the voice, and he gave a small smile in return, “O-Of course.. u-um.. t-these are for you…” He held out the flowers, looking to the floor in utter fear, his mind racing at a million thoughts per hour, each one telling him that she would not accept the flowers. “I’m.. I’m sorry if th-they’re not your favorite fl—“
She gently took them from his hands, and beamed as brightly as the moon. “Thank you, Andrew,” She then tip-toed and benevolently wrapped her arms around him, holding him securely. “I will treasure them for as long as I can.”
This warm, foreign feeling made Andrew’s heart retrieve a bit of light that was lost—something seemed to flicker inside of him, like a light bulb that was starting to retrieve its power, like a butterfly that was starting to take flight. It filled his insides with the feeling that he had always wanted to feel—the warmth of humankind. This feeling caused his arms to move on their own. Although hesitantly, he wrapped his own arms around their shoulders, holding them incredibly loosely; fearing that he might hurt them. He held her as though he were holding a delicate flower—one that would break within the slightest movement of your fingers.
“You look nice today,” She beamed, the two separating. “I like your jacket.”
“Oh—um… thank you..” Andrew’s usual, snow-white face seemed to quickly turn into the shade of the roses he gave her. He could not bring himself to face her, so he stared onto the dirt path road below him. “Y-You look nice, too…” He never once thought she would say something positive about his appearance, so to hear her say something no one had ever said to him before made his heart warm.
“Let’s go,” She slipped her bare hand into his darkly gloved one. “I have something I want to give you, too.”
The two friends traversed throughout the park, and into a hidden road that was obscured by several overgrowing bushes. But with a few pushes and swift replacements of the branches, they managed to arrive to their designated area; the enormous hills of London—a spectacular view that seemed to be taken straight out of a painting now that the dozing sun shone its tired rays onto the canvas; coloring the entire landscape a marvelous hue of orange. It was such a warm color, and it befitted the hidden, yet present feelings the two had for one another. Across the distance, you could see a marvelous view of the castle that the wealthy Londoners seemed to head off to; its looming towers and spires made of the most expensive stone watching over the entire city and kingdom.
The two had set up a blanket in the middle of the hill, having a wondrous view taken straight from a dream standing right before them. Then, she started to open her picnic basket to reveal the various items she had packed for their dinner.
“Oh! That’s right. I wanted to give you something. Close your eyes,” She looked at her present for him lovingly. He obeyed her orders, and she turned to face him to make sure. “Hold out your hands, and when you feel it upon them, only then can you open your eyes.”
She placed a white pot of vibrant, purple irises onto his held out palms, and he opened his crimson red eyes to the heart-warming view of his favorite flowers, looking up to him adoringly.
He whispered your name in utter surprise and a superfluous amount of gratitude as he gazed before the tiny irises. “Th-Thank you… this means so much, I.. thank you..” He smiled, looking towards his companion, who seemed utterly happy that he enjoyed his present. “I’ll take good care of them..”
“I know you will,” She beamed, taking out several plates and serving all sorts of food; from chocolate covered strawberries, to bread, and even slices of apple pie. “These are a few of the irises you helped me plant a while ago, in our secret garden..”
They both held multiple conversations for a while—conversing about their week as they sipped warm tea from intricately painted porcelain teacups, watching the glorious sunset and the wondrous castle. Eventually, after the two finished eating their light meal, and after hearing the waltzes that blared throughout the area, Andrew desperately wanted to ask her to dance—tightly clenching his fist that was grasping the picnic blanket, all the while feeling his face turn warm, he asked, “W-Would you like to dance..? We can pretend to be royalty for a while.. you’ll.. be the princess.. and I-I’ll pretend to be the prince.” He smiled coyly, holding out a hand for her to grasp. “M-May I have this dance..?”
She smiled with a sense of utter gratitude and benevolence, before she nodded and softly replied, “Yes, my prince.”
The two of them stood up, moving away from their picnic area, before they curtsied and bowed to each other clumsily. They then danced to a whimsical waltz that could be heard throughout all of London; the presumably large and vivacious orchestra passionately playing their instruments for the entire kingdom to hear. The moon shone down onto the two of them like a spotlight, watching them closely. They were spinning graciously in sync with the music in one moment—and when the song reached its climax; it seemed as though they had been transported into the luxurious and palatial ballroom, filled with the warm lighting of a crystal chandelier. Their formal casual outfits suddenly seemed to change into the most lavish of attire—fit for their certain roles they were pretending to be. Then, near the end of the song, Andrew seemed to have lost his footing, for he felt himself trip; landing on top of his dance partner and bringing them back to the hilltop, obliterating the illusion of waltzing within the palace.
The two of them tumbled towards the ground, nearly rolling down the hill they were on. She laughed softly as the two of them fell, her arms still wrapped around her prince. He was on top of her; unsure of what to do, feeling quite ashamed of himself. He found his once cold face turning rather warm and temperate as though it were the summer, once he finally realized that the two of them were in a rather.. unflattering position.
“I-I’m so-sorry..” Andrew apologized profusely, quickly removing himself from her. “I’m a horrible prince..”
“No, no, not at all!” She refused, getting up herself and sitting closer to him. “You are the best and only prince I could ever ask for.” She smiled, placing a palm onto his arm.
“A-Are.. you okay..? I hope I didn’t hurt you..” He turned to her, his eyebrows furrowing in heart-wrenching concern, feeling a horrifying sense of seething guilt.
“I’m okay. You could never hurt me.” She gave a gentle smile, one that seemed to pull at his heartstrings.
“You’re so.. nice to me..” Andrew mumbled quietly, wanting to cry. He desperately prayed to muster up the courage to admit his redundant feelings for her; for it seemed to overflow like a large bathtub. He could not wait and wanted to let her know—to show her how much she meant to him. But the several anxieties and fears of her rejecting him always plagued his mind, always kept him up at night with the potential heartbreak he knew he would face. No one could ever love him that way, for he was a wretched form of a human being, a grotesque creature that no one could love.
“I’m only telling the truth,” She gave a soft grin, but it quickly seemed to disappear like a shooting star once she saw his somber expression. It reminded her of the first time she stood up for him months ago when he was being attacked by cruel souls, and the first time when the two sat next to one another in the church, his sorrowful face seeming to be in a constant state or mood belonging to that of a funeral. “Andrew.. what’s wrong..?”
“Everything…” He whispered, burrowing his face into his knees. He took in a shaky deep breath, his lip quivering, before continuing, “If I wasn’t cursed like this, I would have been able to see better, and I wouldn’t have dropped you… if I was never born.. I wouldn’t be plaguing you and the entire world with my existence..” Years of pent up silence with no possible outlet to vent to has caused him to crumble beneath her feet, and she soon began to realize this emotion he had, and recognized it as her own.
“You don’t plague me with your existence!” She retaliated, her heart sinking once he opened up about his own personal feelings. “I love having you around. I love listening to you, talking to you, just being near you! Every time we are apart, I worry about you; I pray that you are okay and I always ask God to protect you… you’re my dearest friend, Andrew, and I can’t ever imagine losing you!”
She paused for merely a second, before continuing, “I understand that the world has been incredibly inhumane to you, and I can’t even fathom how hard it is to deal with things like that. But you don’t need their approval, their opinions, or their judgements. As long as I’m here, I’ll always try and make things right. The world is better with you in it. I promise.” She soon began to embrace him, holding him tightly.
Andrew’s heart entirely melted into a soft, gooey substance; like a strawberry filling that were inside sprinkled cupcakes. His entire body felt much warmer than it had been before—it was as if she blessed him with a warm touch that wrapped around him like a blanket that was straight from the dryer. He began to adjust his body a bit, and placed his own arms around her, burying his head in the crook of her neck, beginning to sob the long suppressed tears he was ashamed to shed.
“I’m s-sorry—I ruined our trip,” he apologized in between tears, sniffling as he tried to regain his composure, “P-Please forgive me…”
“There’s nothing to forgive, you didn’t ruin anything..” She lovingly caressed his soft, white tresses of hair, each stroke oozing out an abundance of endearment, “I appreciate you for opening up; it’s certainly not easy, so you have plenty of courage for doing so.. you’re important, Andrew. And you’re not alone. Never.. I’m always thinking about you.”
“Th-Thank you...” He held her tighter, as tightly as a child would hold their stuffed animal when they were crestfallen. “I… I love you…” He muttered incredibly lowly, half-hoping that she would not hear his words.
“I love you too,” She placed a benevolent kiss on his temple, which seemed to present his darkened soul with such a warm light—a light that he never thought he would ever feel, or see. A warmth and a moment that he will never forget for the rest of his life, “I really do.”