Mason

Who knew a color could taste like destiny? His POV: BL The gym is a place where people do not fall in love. It is a place where they count. Reps. Seconds. Calories. Heartbeats. No chaos, no color, and then, Blue, Cyan when the world was black and grey. Blue, in a place built for steel and sweat and silence. Blue, in holiness where it shouldn’t be. He walks in and suddenly black and grey feel like mourning colors. The first time I saw him, I lost count of my reps. The second time, I accepted that my world had been rewritten by the presence of one person I did not even know. He was everything I had trained myself not to notice. Then came the Beyonce moment. I was walking toward the exit when the song blasted through the speakers. “All the single ladies! All the single ladies!” he raised his hand and I swear I almost dropped my bag. It was stupid, ridiculous, a joke, but my heart took it as a sign. A hand in the air, a careless gesture that I clung to like a fool. Single, he's single. As if I’ve been waiting for  proof that he isn’t already someone else’s dream. And when he turned, when our eyes met, when he realized I had seen him, I smiled. I have lifted weights heavy enough to make my bones shake, but nothing. Nothing has ever knocked the breath from my lungs like the moment he looked at me. He looked away fast, as if he could erase the moment if he moved quickly enough. As if he had not just carved something permanent into my bones. I told myself to let him go but we kept having small interactions, moments that made my heart flutter in a way i've never felt before, like the water fountain, when I chugged all the water in my bottle just to talk to him, I felt lightheaded not from dehydration, but from Him. Then came that night when he was late, I told myself I wouldn’t look for him again. That I had imagined all of it. He walked in late. Too late. For forty-six minutes. I had told myself to move on. That he wasn’t coming. but then, Blue --