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Peter seemed nice enough.
He was a good neighbor, which sometimes seemed difficult to come across in the endless sea of people who lived in New York. The way he had introduced himself by helping you carry in some groceries endeared him to you rather quickly.
He was always inviting you out to lunch. Even if he knew you wouldn’t be available on a particular day, he still wanted to extend the offer. Not to mention, he was the one you could trust to take care of your cat if you had to leave for a few days.
Despite him being kind, however, you’d occasionally catch a flash of sorrow in his eyes whenever he looked at you. It would quickly disappear once he realized you had noticed. Of course, you knew he had lost his aunt only a few months prior to meeting him, so you figured that must have been the reason and didn’t pry into the subject.
Peter, however, always sent feelings of deja vu throughout your mind. You were sure you hadn’t met him before. Maybe you just remembered passing by him on the street? Or meeting his eyes at one of the local bodegas? That must have been it, right?
It wasn’t until things started popping up around your apartment that waves of familiarity began to overwhelm your mind. And it all led back to Peter.
The first discovery was a photo of the two of you, specifically one you didn’t remember taking. It was tucked away in a desk drawer, hiding beneath an old chemistry assignment for who knows how long.
Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it. Holding it delicately in your hands, your index finger traced over the image of Peter’s face.
Even though the picture was blurry, as though the two of you were tumbling over while taking it, you could still make out the bright smile on his face. You were pressed against his side with one of his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders.
While you were looking at the camera with a wide smile, Peter’s eyes were on you. They had a certain twinkle to them that made him appear gentle and soft, much like the Peter you knew now.
Within moments, the photo was framed and placed upon your nightstand. You admired it each night as you fell asleep.
You never brought it up to Peter. Perhaps the photo was a spur of the moment decision that you can’t recall making. With that rationalization set in your mind, you moved on.
Until you found a shirt that wasn’t yours. Digging through one of your drawers, you paused at the sight of it. It was an oversized, white t-shirt with a yellow taxi on the front, along with the words ‘I survived my trip to NYC’.
It was something a tourist would buy. Not you, who had lived in the city your whole life. You were left to wonder where it came from, but couldn’t come up with an answer. For some reason, however, you felt the need to fold it neatly on top of your nightstand, directly next to the photo of you and Peter.
You finally drew a line in the sand when it came to a song. It was one of your favorites, one that you had listened to who knows how many times before. But you had never listened to it around Peter. That you know of, at least.
The two of you stood in your kitchen. Your cat is weaving between Peter’s legs, begging for attention, as he stands by the stove and stirs some pasta. You’re busy chopping up a few vegetables. Music is playing through a wireless speaker that sits on the kitchen table.
You’re quietly listening as Peter tells you about his day. He went to the local bodega to get a sandwich after going for an afternoon run. After that, he had to do a few errands before coming back to his apartment so he could get ready for your weekly dinner-and-movie night.
You offer an occasional hum to let him know you’re paying attention to what he’s saying. As he starts rambling about the movie he brought for the two of you to watch, the song echoing the speaker fades out and changes to a different one.
You blink at the opening rhythm, pausing in the repetitive motion of chopping the vegetables. Instead, your eyes drifted to Peter, who still had his back to you. His voice was slowly fading away as you gazed at him with furrowed eyebrows.
And there’s a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear...
Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?
The feeling of his skin against yours in times of uncontrollable love. Receiving a photograph as a gift after a date. His lips against yours beneath the glow of city lights. Sleepovers where he’s falling asleep in an oversized, white t-shirt that he inevitably forgets the next morning.
Dancing to these lyrics and this rhythm together in your kitchen nearly a year ago. And both of you deciding it was meant to be your song.
These moments from your life are suddenly flooding your mind as you admire him. It’s a wave of realization, your remembrance of memories long lost.
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close forever and ever?
And ah, take me out, and take me home!
You’re my, my, my, my—
“Peter.”