Chapter Text
Their eyes met; and held. And in Godfreg's memory they stay like that, looking at each other forever, never ending. Stage LEDs winking like Momosu’s distant island lights, drums pulsing on cue with heartbeats, clever fingers dancing and guitar strings singing, and while Evan seems to glow all the brighter, and brighter, like he is the sun himself personified.
Everything he feels eventually returns him to him. To heaven to hell to heaven. Mostly hell, Godfreg will discover much much much later, because their story will end far from here, when comes along another boy just like Evan, when he is dressed like all of Godfreg's regrets and almosts in the form of sweet smiles, brunet tufts, and a set of blue eyes Godfreg knows all too well. When, one day, Evan will finally get it through his dense cement-made-head that Godfreg Hamilton is in love with you, you fool. Godfreg comes to realise this during his blooming university years, while speakers reverberate through him, music carving a path from his eardrums to his weakening heart. Oh he was weak.
Extra, extra, read all about it!
Godfreg’s in his feelings and can't get out of it.
His heart is going, going, going, and might just be gone if he doesn't stop. Right now, Godfreg Hamilton, you need to stop. He chastises himself with a closed mouth and a throbbing, gaping chest. It may as well be gaping, anyway, because if not his tenacious heart has nowhere to go otherwise. It beats wildly enough to propel to his throat. It slams crazedly enough as if it has grown arms, and is threatening Godfreg right now; that I will crawl out of here, man.
Whether from the stage lighting beaming too bright or Godfreg's eyes tearing up, the view is a little blurry for him around the edges. It frames Evan in the middle in this hazy glow. The thin sheen of sweat on his face doesn't help, residual rays of blue and then pink, blue and then pink flows over his face, drawing lines of light that highlight his fuckass facial features. Disorienting, distracting. Electric blue eyes mischievous and glinting, dusty brown hair sweeping strong brows. He grins, most of all, and it's insufferable. It’s an ugly, honest face. Mirroring the raw frenzy in the music he plays.
Evan has never looked more handsome.
So that's when it happens, anyway. At the height of summer, by a boy who mistook a platform for a pedestal.
Now, again, from the top.