Work Text
It starts with the sketchbook. Always the sketchbook. Blank pages staring back at me like they know. Like they’re mocking me.
I’ve been trying to draw for weeks now. Months, maybe. Time feels like a blur lately. But every time I sit down, pencil in hand, my fingers won’t move. Not even a scratch on the paper.
There’s this invisible wall. No, worse—like my own body is betraying me. Like it’s screaming
no, don’t do it, don’t even try.
It’s stupid, really. Or maybe it’s not. Feels more like a curse some days.
But then there’s
Alex
.
Alex with the golden smile. Alex with that laugh that feels like sunlight even when I don’t want to face the day.
He doesn’t even know, probably. How much he’s been keeping me afloat. Every little wave, every stupid grin through our windows.
God, that window.
I open mine, and there he is—on cue.
Like clockwork.
Leaning on the sill of his. Brussels-born Alex, my accidental angel. Waiting. Watching. Waving.
His hand shoots up, casual but sure.
Like he’s been waiting for me all along.
And the smile. That smile.
I swear my heart skips, every single time. My chest feels like it’s caving in, but in a good way.
If that’s even a thing.
I should be drawing.
The sketchbook glares at me from across the room, accusing.
But instead, I sit by the window and wave back.
“
Hey!
” I’d shout, way too loud for the distance between us.
Alex always laughed at that.
Like, why are you yelling?
he’d say later, teasing me through texts.
But I couldn’t help it.
His laughter made everything feel lighter, like the air wasn’t so heavy anymore.
Then, his voice. God, his voice. Calm and steady, always a little teasing but never too much.
“
How are you? Did you sleep well?
”
My parents could probably hear everything.
Not like I cared
. They’d rather we talk face-to-face anyway, but this—
this was our thing.
Sometimes he’d point to his phone, like a signal. Time to switch over. Instagram calls or a string of DMs that felt like a secret game. I’d always message first, though.
Always.
He’d wait, smirking like he knew I couldn’t hold back.
Life wasn’t always like this.
But it’s easier now. Ever since my family said
yes
—to me, to Alex, to us. It was like the weight I’d been carrying all my life just… vanished.
It made me love them more. Love him more.
Valerie says we’re
cute.
And yeah, I guess we are. Our friends never shut up about it, especially when we’re on the bike. Alex in front, me clinging to him like I’d fall if I let go.
(But that’s the point, isn’t it? To hold on?)
He always pretends like he doesn’t notice. The way I hug him from behind, tighter than I probably need to. Like I’m anchoring myself to him.
But then he’ll glance back, just for a second, and smile. That quiet, soft smile. The one that feels like it’s just for me. Like he gets it—everything I can’t say out loud.
Riding through town feels like freedom. The wind in my face, his laughter cutting through the noise of traffic and conversations and the rest of the world.
“Hold on tighter,” he’d joke, even though I’m already holding on like my life depends on it.
“I’ll fall off!” I’d protest, burying my face against his back, and he’d laugh like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all week.
Sometimes I think about how simple it all feels now.
How different it is from before.
I used to wonder if love could ever feel this easy.
If it could feel like riding bikes through the city, laughing too loudly, and waving at strangers who don’t wave back. Like leaning out the window just to catch a glimpse of someone you can’t stop thinking about.
If it could feel like Alex.
And it does. It really does.