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I’ve never stepped over your threshold. Not of your home, not of your heart, and here I am trying to do both in one day. What in the world am I thinking? I’ll tell you, if I ever get the courage to knock. I’ll tell you that I’ve had an unhealthy obsession with you ever since you zipped out of space to help me with my nebula.
Do you remember that? I’m too afraid to ask. I’m not as brave or strong as you are.
I raise my hand, ready to tap on your door with my golden nails, but I can’t do it. I lose my nerve and walk away…until the doorknob rattles, and I freeze in place.
“Angel,” you say, and it sounds like you’re out of breath, like you hurried to catch me. I wish you would. I wish you’d wrap me in your arms and never let go.
I turn, and whatever excuse I was about to make dies on my lips. Your big black eyes sparkle and shine like they’re full of stars. It’s always a shock to see you without your sunglasses, not because your eyes are frightening, but because they drink me in so completely, like you don’t want to miss a single thing.
It’s not only the beauty of your eyes that leaves me speechless. You’re practically naked in your black dressing gown. The collar looks like a feather boa, and does nothing to cover your cleavage. The sash is only loosely knotted at your waist, and you’re holding it closed. I’d like to see it pooled at your bare feet. Your curly salt-and-pepper hair is tied back in a loose bun, and your old-fashioned, polished-wood tobacco pipe is tucked into the corner of your bright red lips.
I could eat you whole.
“Angel, what are you doing here? Is something wrong?” you ask, furrowing your brow. I still can’t speak. “Never mind that. Come in quickly, before someone sees you.”
In a blur of motion, you grab me by my jacket’s gold lapels and drag me over the threshold like it has never been any kind of barrier at all, like I haven’t agonised over stepping foot inside of your flat for ages. Like it’s nothing.
Have I mentioned how strong you are? I stumble a little, and you steady me with an arm around my waist. For a second I think it may have forced a factory reset of my brain.
“Careful,” you say.
To calm myself down, I take a deep breath, smelling pipe tobacco and honeysuckle. You. My best friend, the only one who gets me. Your worried expression brings my voice back. I need to reassure you.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I say. “Just wanted to see you.”
Your face softens like it only ever does for me, and without your dark glasses on, your feelings couldn’t be more obvious. How could I ever have doubted your love for me? It’s flaming like anything.
“I’m always happy to see you, darling,” you say. You let go of my waist and close the door.
I’ve finally reached another threshold—this time a breaking point. My love for you, always too vast to fit inside me, bubbles and fizzes in my mouth, spilling out everywhere. There’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“I love you, you know,” I blurt out. It sounds more like an accusation than a confession, and my tone burns my throat.
“I know,” you say, brushing it off as you set down your pipe. The dressing gown slides off of your shoulder. “You’re an angel; you love everyone.”
“Not like this,” I say, gently grasping your feathered collar.
I have your full attention. The gravity of your eyes pulls me past the point of no return. I lean in, aiming for your cheek, but you catch my chin at the last second. You kiss me, your tongue barely crossing the threshold of my lips.
“I know,” you whisper into my mouth.