"Do you remember the last time we danced together? Heh, who am I kidding, of course you don't remember…"
Who is this person in front of me? He looks and acts like her, yet he doesn't seem to recognize me or even remember a little about me.
Could I blame him? I mean, it's been a while since it happened. 17 years actually. 17 years, 3 months and 26 days to be more precise…
Well, it's actually more. That's just the time I spent without seeing her, but in reality we go way back…
I met Layla (back when she was still called Layla) when we were 14. It wasn't a special occasion or a corny movie scenario, I just happened to meet her during a riot.
There she was, graceful and beautiful like a goddess as she hit a cop with a trash can. And there I was, hiding behind my house's window while I watched the whole thing occur.
It would be foolish to say that I was guided to another lifestyle because of love, but it would also be the easiest way to explain it.
I always lived an easy and happy life, so I never thought of getting mixed up with acts of that kind, but after seeing her scream at the authorities with such a lively emotion, something in me felt awakened.
At that moment, all I wanted was to go into the pit of people and fight just like they were doing, so I left my watching spot and ran through my house's entrance, rushing to be with the girl who caught my attention. But just as I got there, the authorities started to use more force and call for backup, which caused everyone to retreat.
Among all the chaos, I managed to spot that girl being taken by a police officer. Only one thing was on my mind and that was helping her. So I ran as fast as I could, bumping against many people along the way. And just when I saw the officer raising his baton to hit her, I launched myself against him, charging him against a wall.
The three of us fell to the floor, but after remembering what my purpose was, I got up quickly and held her arm, dragging her to my house with me. She hit me all the way to my house and instead of letting go, I just held her tighter, feeling happy and relieved that she was with me.
Once there I was able to know what I wanted: her name and all her motivations. She told me she was called Layla, and that even if a little rich kid like me saved her, she would never change her mind about "my kind". I got lost in her eyes as she spoke, feeling at ease as I saw the love of my life in front of me. She was perfect in every way, and even her ideals sounded amazing to me.
I was tired of living a monotone and boring life, so even if it wasn't my place, I wanted to do what she did. I wanted to fight for her ideals if that could get me closer to her.
I asked her to teach me how to be like her, how to break the chains that were holding me captive, and after a long streak of insults, she agreed to do so. After she did that, we shared a nice chat, one that I sadly don't remember because I lost myself in every aspect of her being.
We fell asleep on the floor of the living room that night, after hours and hours of talking, but the moment I woke up, all that was left was a piece of paper and a note on my hand. That was the first time that she disappeared from my life.
After that event, my life took a new path. I stopped being the teacher's lackey, I started to dress in new ways and I started to do things on my own. I let my hair grow, chose my haircuts myself instead of letting my parents do it and I even started talking back to people, not fearing what could happen.
I felt free, at peace. Even if people of "my kind" weren't the ones meant to live like that, I wanted to do things differently. The best about this was that this new life path led me back to her. Even if I had her phone number and her direction, I never gathered the courage to approach her, especially while looking like my old self. So the moment I saw her again, my heart was filled with joy.
The time passed and my admiration for her grew bigger by the day. Not only that, but my love for her grew bigger as well.
By the time we were 16, I gathered all the courage I didn't have the past 2 years and confessed my love to her. My heart shrank when I heard her rejecting me, but even after experiencing that, my love for her never faltered.
Even from the moment I met her, she was already in a relationship with a different person. Sometimes a guy, sometimes a girl, but they were all different. Some of them didn't work out because of her, some of them didn't work out because of the other person and some of them didn't work just because they weren't meant to be.
Why am I saying this? Easy, if I endured watching her date different people before confessing to her, I could endure watching her with different people after confessing. After all, all I wanted was to love her and be close to her, even if it didn't mean to get the same love back.
2 more years passed in which we shared different experiences. As we grew older, our ideals (or her ideals to be honest) grew stronger each day. We wanted to change society for good, even if it meant giving it a total 180 degree turn.
In those 2 years, not only our ideals grew, but our interests did too, and with them, our identities changed. I don't mean we changed names or faces, I mean that who we were got decided during those days.
She had the dream of pursuing music, hoping to make a change in the world with her voice. Even though she wanted to make jazz and alt music, she knew that she had to take a more hardcore style if she wanted people to be reached by her. Meanwhile, I had the dream to turn into a writer, inspired by many books that changed the mentalities of people for generations.
While she excelled in every art possible and seemed like she could achieve her dreams at any time, I felt like I lagged behind her. Every one of my efforts was always futile or never got anywhere, which made me lose hope gradually. However, I never gave up on writing because of the courage she gave me every day.
The day I turned 18, as if it was a present from the heavens, I finally got my chance to be with her. I felt awful at first because it felt like I was taking advantage of the end of her last relationship and the fact that we were both drunk, but after waking up with her in my arms the next day, all those doubts vanished.
It was ephemeral, but the time she spent being my woman was the best in my entire life. Every day felt like an adventure, every kiss felt like a treasure and every minute with her felt like a gift from a superior being.
While she wrote songs to tell the government to fuck off, I wrote many stories with her in my mind. Whenever she made a new painting or sculpture, I'd write something on it, mixing our art to show that our love wasn't just a mere, physical connection.
Still, everything comes to an end sooner or later… While everything seemed to be working smoothly, it seemed like fate had other plans for us…
It was the day of my graduation. Since she had dropped out of school, the only plan we had for that night was to see me get out of that hellhole that I had to attend to.
The night came and I didn't see her before the ceremony, so I thought she'd arrive while I got my diploma.
Time passed and the time for me to get that stupid piece of paper came. I walked up to the teachers nervously as I looked for her face in the crowd, but not being able to spot her anywhere . I took my diploma straight out of the teacher's hand and while giving him a fake smile, I went to sit with my classmates.
From my seat, I looked for her for several minutes, but after seeing that she never appeared, the feeling of betrayal sickened me, making me step out of the scenario with the excuse that I wasn't feeling well (which wasn't a lie at all).
Right after I got far from the place where the ceremony was taking place, a familiar voice hugged me from behind. After all, she did not betray me.
I turned around to see her, astonished by the gorgeous figure that was in front of me. She somehow managed to keep her fierce essence while wearing a formal dress, which made my admiration and amazement for her grow more than ever.
For a few minutes, all I did was stutter while trying to talk to her and compliment in every way possible her looks, but after a long hug that I got from her, she said a sentence that has never left my mind since I heard it: "I dressed up for my douchebag's graduation, not for the other asshole's graduation."
Just as she finished speaking, after giving me a great bite in my neck and seeing my reaction, she took me by the arm (with the same strength as I did 4 years ago) and led me outside. There, she covered my eyes with a blindfold and commanded me to follow her.
I agreed as I put every single bit of trust in her, letting myself be taken wherever she wanted. Then, after we walked for a few minutes, we reached a ladder that she had put there before. She ordered me to trust her again, and so I did, escalating the ladder with her help.
Once we were at the end of the ladder, a cold breeze slapped my face. My beloved reached her arms around me and completed a big, long hug. During that hug, her mouth started to walk a path from my neck to my lips, biting every inch of that trail. It was a weird habit of hers, but it was a habit that I never had a complaint of.
As her teeth reached my lips, her hands untied my blindfold allowing me to see where we were: the school's rooftop. Her bite quickly turned into a kiss, sealing our lips in what I would call later our last kiss.
As our lips met each other, our bodies began to move, as if we were dancing under the moonlight. A few words escaped our mouths as we had our moment, but our focus was solely on one another instead of our words.
We danced until our bodies were too tired to keep going and when that happened, we rolled on the roof, kissing and embracing ourselves in a thigh, loving hug. I wished for that moment to last forever as I told her the best words I could think of, and she responded by turning my words into a beautiful song with her voice.
As she sang, we both drifted to sleep. I took a deep, last sniff of the scent in her neck before closing my eyes entirely, and she gave me bites all over her favorite spots before falling asleep on top of me.
I opened my eyes the next day, only to find out that she was nowhere to be found. I called for her with my voice and then with my phone, and after seeing that it was useless, I went to her family to ask for help. Even so, her family or friends couldn't reach her either. And with that, my first (and probably only) real love came to an end.
I waited for her all this time, with an unbreakable hope of seeing her again in the future. And just in the most unexpected moment, a moment where I could lose all of my hope, I seemed to find her.
Her name is now Glasgow, and he seems to be a man now. For some reason she (or he) looks around 10 years younger, but I could never mistake that face or attitude.
To avoid him from escaping from me again, I tied him to a tree. I took off his shirt (just like I did in the old times) and tended to his injuries.
While wrapping bandages around his body, I spotted a hickey on his neck. But instead of feeling alarmed, I just feel relieved that she (now he) is okay.
Some might think that I must feel bad, but it's quite the opposite. I don't feel resentful towards her at all, after all, it's my fault that she left, right…?