Chapter Text
In the midst of the chaos of the night, when the stars weave euphoric melodies and the moon weeps celestial tears, Ben lies awake in the middle of his bed, his thoughts embracing him. Outside, the bats circulate among the clouds, the owls hoot and snicker, the lights flicker and twinkle, and the buildings sway like lullabies. Inside, Ben blinks up at the empty ceiling, engulfed by the enormity of his feelings. He thinks and wonders and ponders.
He thinks of sandy, golden hair and salty, ocean eyes. He thinks of soft, gentle hands and brave, rocky fists. He thinks of daring, fearless lips and sharp, piercing teeth. He thinks of rare, starry laughs and a cute, button nose.
He wonders about the shape of her hands and the weight of her palm in his. He wonders about the taste of her lips and the flavor of her skin. He wonders about the stories behind her eyes and the scars beneath her skin.
He ponders over the probability of fate aligning itself in his favor and the statistics of her fascinating brain filled with the same thoughts as his. He ponders over the world's greatest treasures and why her name is not on the list. He ponders over whether she would like peonies or tulips or daisies. He believes and feels and imagines until sleep finally takes over him.
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As the sun slowly makes its way over the horizon, submerging the world with citrusy dreams, Ben finishes his breakfast briskly. His brothers eye him suspiciously, full of so much doubt that Elliot starts to interrogate Ben, questioning his swiftness and eagerness. "Why are you in such a haste, dear brother? I do hope everything is alright?"
"Of course," Ben answers. "Why wouldn't everything be?" Ben is always with armor, under pretense and disguise. He sometimes thinks whether he can ever truly be himself around others, but he need not worry, since he can always count on Harriet to bring the authenticated version of him back. Remembering Harriet brings a quick smile to his face which he tries his best to bury under a poker face. He doesn't want to indulge too much in his brothers. That can never bring any good.
"Well, it doesn't look like everything's alright dude. Like, look at the way you're ravishing your breakfast." Tom quirks an eyebrow, waving his hand at the bowl in front of Ben. "I mean, I don't think oatmeal is that good of a meal to be honest. I've always found it a bit boring. There must be something else."
"There's nothing else. Seriously. I'm just getting late for my class." At that, Ben picks up his bag, ties up his shoes and dashes to the door in hopes of getting out of here as quick as he can, before his brothers can rain down another series of questions at him. He succeeds, leaving his brothers only more suspicious.
As Ben walks over to his university, a skip to his step, he rechecks that he has everything essential in his bag. He greets and waves to people familiar to him, believing that no matter what, there lives an ounce of goodness in everyone. Call that naive, but Ben is who he is. He might hide under a big, bright smile and fake his way through most conversations, but still, Ben is a believer. One day, he'll be comfortable in his own skin, he'll be able to show everyone his genuine self, Ben only wishes that day comes soon. His rocky path is starting to grow some flowers in between the cracks; it's starting to lighten up. The clouds are fading away slowly and before long, it'll all be clear. Right now, as he is on his way to his classes, and later on he will be on his way to his date with Harriet, he is filled with a certain kind of calm which he savors and relishes.
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Underneath the twilight sky, Ben finally decides on chrysanthemums. As he waits in anticipation outside of his university, looking around in hopes of seeing his girl, he goes over the plans of the day. First, they will attend a concert, Harriet's favorite band is playing and Ben secured the tickets. Then they will make their way to a pleasant restaurant, vegan of course. Finally, Ben will take Harriet to an ice cream truck he discovered while roaming the streets of New York. And that will be it, it's simple but it's special. Harriet doesn't like fancy; she would enjoy this. And everything will go well - what can even go wrong?
Yet, as Harriet finally makes her way towards him, clad in a black leather jacket, a similar colored top and a maroon mini skirt, Ben's heart flatlines. How can someone be so beautiful? How can Ben be normal about her? How can Ben talk to her, look at her as if he doesn't feel this enormous longing to cage her inside of his arms and keep her there? He thinks that he's eternally doomed, and maybe he is.
While Harriet stands in front of Ben, expecting him to talk, Ben's brain short-circuits. He stumbles over his words and thrusts the bouquet of chrysanthemums towards Harriet, "I- umm, Hi. You look great. I mean, you always look great. Yes, you do." Ben nods absent-mindedly, still looking at Harriet over and over. This isn't like Ben. Usually Ben is confident, from shamelessly flirting with her to recounting even the miniscule details of his day to her, he has never shied away from chattering away to her. But today is different, maybe it's the title of a 'date' that's making Ben so nervous, making him stammer over his words or maybe he has finally lost it.
"Great. And what are these?" Harriet points towards the flowers, which Ben is still holding out awkwardly.
Ben's mind goes haywire. Maybe he shouldn't have brought her these flowers. It's just a date. A silly little date. And yet, here he is, holding flowers and his heart out to her, while she just stands there looking radiant. Maybe this means much more to him than it does to her. After all, he did fall asleep with her name on his breath. Perhaps this is one-sided and Harriet is here only because she felt bad for Ben. No, Ben thinks. She did accept the proposal of a date. She said yes herself when Ben blushed and questioned her whether she would like to go on a date with him. She would have straight up refused him if she didn't want this.
Recollecting himself, Ben stands taller and tries his best to stay cool and calm. He of course fails. But nevertheless, one must persevere. He can do this. "Flowers. For you." He shakes his hand, holding the bouquet in front of her, willing her to take and accept them.
After much consideration, Harriet merely shakes her head and grabs the chrysanthemums from Ben's hands, their fingers brushing and producing sparks that Ben feels all the way to his heart. Ben is a moment away from falling to his knees and declaring that he loves Harriet in front of the whole world. He is just one more touch away from plunging into the sea and giving in to his feelings. He is just one more conversation between them from shattering to pieces in front of Harriet, begging her to accept him - even the jagged, rough parts. He just wants to be welcomed into her arms, to take refuge there when the bombs are raining down on his world. He just wants to touch her, drink her in and sew her into the back of his eyelids. He just wants to take her home, to his room and to his bed. He wants so many things, it seems as if he can drown in his longing. His hunger is colossal. His desire is overwhelming. His love is absolute.