Chapter Text
The heat is stifling, people walk past me, seemingly unbothered by it, their tanned skin and rushed tongues speaking over the language that I continually disappoint my Spanish father by not being able to speak well. Sweat tingles on my brow, drips travelling uninvited down my cheek as I angrily swipe them away. I'm aiming for sexy British twink in a foreign land, but it's giving sweaty, English bloke who should not have worn jeans in 38 degree heat in Madrid amongst all the smoking hot gay men currently passing me by.
We're staying in an area that I presume is the gay district. I didn't even mean to book it, but on arrival it was pretty clear we'd chosen well when we spotted Pride flags flying from every shop, restaurant, bar and some random apartments. Same-sex couples pass us by constantly, hands held and kisses shared in broad daylight. It's heart-warming to see and incredibly sad that I should find it so heart-warming and unusual.
Today, Elle is meeting Isaac and I, and accompanying us to the Palacio something-something. Since Elle is the one studying here, I've been a good friend and allowed her to do all the itinerary planning. We're halfway there when I've pulled us to a complete stop. I need to duck into a shop to buy shorts immediately and Uniqlo is the best option I have. We walk in and I am swooning over every fucking man I see, they are made differently here, I swear! I curse my father for daring to leave a country filled with an incredible amount of fit people, I could have had this eye candy as a teen, not gangly awkward straights surrounding me in a stiff, upper-class school.
I grab a pair of shorts, pay and then change in the fitting room, instantly feeling lighter and much less sweaty. I fix my curls, wiping my brow and sweaty neck on my jeans before chucking them in my bag, and then head back out to meet Elle and Isaac. We don't have long together, Isaac and I only arrived yesterday and we leave on Sunday, but we'll make the most of our time while we can. We tried to persuade Tao, but even though he and Elle broke up last year and things have been good as friends, he couldn't help feeling dejected and broken over her deciding to stay out here for the summer. It's not been an easy year, being stuck between the two of them. I thought they were soulmates once upon a time.
Nick flashes into my head with that word and I shake him out immediately. Flashes of my crush on him and our one time kiss, followed by an intense friendship that fizzled because I pushed him away, unable to get a hold on myself with the stupid crush I had. He moved to the specialist sports school the year after and we gradually lost touch, i.e. I blocked his number in an attempt to cure my crush. I had heard on the grapevine that he came out as bisexual a couple of years later, and was surprised at how much it hurt not to be the one he picked to come out to. Obviously I suspected when we kissed but neither of us ever mentioned it again. There were stolen glances and heated looks but never any admissions or proper conversations - just standard friendship with an undertone of careful distance.
I'm lost in a cocoon of memories of lips brushing in a quiet, opulent room in Harry's rented out mansion when my friends' voices penetrate my thoughts. I paint a smile on my face and focus on them instead, getting involved in their discussion of Spanish artists, comparing the older artists to some select modern up and coming ones. I purposely read through some so I would know what Elle was talking about, and I'm delighted to be able to truly follow along as she excitedly tells us about the differences, and her favourites.
The Palace is stunning. We don't go inside, opting instead to stick to the shadows and wander the beautiful grounds, mingling with fellow tourists, a flurry of mixed languages tangling in the crowds as we swelter amongst them. From the palace, we wander the streets in search of a decent restaurant. Elle informs us she doesn't know this area well but then loses her mind when we happen across a cute store she recognises.
“I've heard of this but I hadn't seen it yet! Its so incredible!” She squeals as she rushes ahead.
We've been walking on the shaded side of the road, despite the fact we know we need to be on the other side. But, even years later, I am eternally grateful that we did that. Because it led me to him - finally.
“La Tienda de los Deseos - The shop of desires? Wow,” I gape at the thousands upon thousands of small white squares of paper, each one with a different message. I pick out a few at random but I can't understand most, until I happen across a couple of them in Spanish. I translate them, my eyes misting at the poetry within them, the beauty of basic human need and desire.
“This one says ‘Please stop all of the suffering in the world, I would give my life if it meant all children could be safe’. Oh my god, this one is beautiful, ‘I haven't told anyone I am dying. I hope they know how much I love them’, or… oh…’It's my birthday today, and all I desire is around me. My children and my love’.”
Tears stream down my face as I read more and more. Some children - or perhaps grown adults - ask for expensive cars, homes and holidays, but the ones that hit hardest are the ones that ask for basic human needs and rights. I'm about to walk away when it catches my eye. The familiar writing.
My brow creases and I shake my head in disbelief, it's like I've conjured it somehow through my earlier thoughts. It's written in English and I lean in closer, blue pen, slightly cursive, but playful, while still perfectly neat. It's written for me and I know it with the strangest certainty sitting in my gut. But my head doesn't want to believe it, it keeps telling me to walk away, ignore it, but it's impossible. I was meant to see this today. Before I can think about what I'm doing, I pull it from the wall and pocket it.
Later, when I'm alone, I open up the folds of the note I had felt burning a hole in my pocket all day. Isaac is in his room, so I close over the door of mine and my eyes pass hungrily over the familiar writing;
‘I want him. I desire him.
I can't stop thinking about him. He's been the object of my desires since I was 16 when he kissed me and made my world technicolour. I never meant to let him go and all I want is to have him back in my life. I cannot get his dark curls, blue eyes and dimples out of my head, the fact I let him go haunts me.
I hope this works. NN’