Jasper doesn’t see what everyone else does.
He didn’t see the way his mother would cry when he’d turn his back, terrified she’d failed him. He never saw how his teacher, Mr. Halston, fretted over his psychological well-being. Jasper didn’t notice the way the kids watched him, slightly hopeful that he might speak to them and then sad when he didn’t.
Everyone wanted to help.
He’d lost his brother and was clearly suffering from it.
The poor guy thought he was all alone.
It didn’t take long to make him realize he wasn’t alone. He had me and his family and my family and his teachers and his peers. It took hard work from everyone to slowly bring him away from death’s doors and right in the center of our world where he belongs.
Jasper always fondly tells me of how his brother was the star.
Perhaps Julian was.
But if Julian was the star, Jasper is the moon.
Lighting up the darkness. Glowing bright and brilliant for all to see. A force of nature.
Like now, he grins at me and the entire world disappears. I feel like a little kid staring at the sky, marveling over the grandness of the moon.
“You two are so cute,” Eric complains. “Henry and I aren’t that cute.”
“Sure you are. Have you seen yourself in a tux?” I tease. “Henry was pretty cute when he about choked on his tongue when he saw you.”
“Yeah, I guess we are kinda cute. He was cute when he got jealous I was taking you to Homecoming.” He chuckles. “I told him I’d save a dance for him.”
The event ends and before I can make it to Jasper, Carla nearly tackles me with a hug. Zach lingers with both babies in his arms, smiling fondly at us.
“You looked handsome up there,” Carla says. She takes my cheeks in her palms. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being you.” Her eyes that look just like Jasper’s well with tears. “You gave me my son back. Have fun at the dance.”
As she walks away, arms envelop me from behind. I relax in Jasper’s embrace. Since Jasper is so deeply familiar with loss and heartache and emotions of all sorts, he loves hard. He’s not one of those guys who hides his feelings. My boyfriend is one hundred percent in.
“You’re so hot in a tux,” he rumbles against my ear. “I’m gonna give you a blowjob later while you’re still dressed.”
I turn in his arms, hiding the erection he’s caused. He’s hard too as he rubs against me. His gray, stormy eyes are locked on mine, pinning me forever.
“I got you something,” he says, a grin tugging at his handsome mouth I could spend days kissing.
“What’s that?”
He fishes something out of his pocket. It’s an enamel pin. A rainbow that says, “Magical as fuck.”
“I thought gifting pins was my gig,” I tease as he sets to affixing it on my lapel.
“You gave all yours away. I thought maybe you needed more.”
Our lips meet for a sinful kiss that has Eric whistling and giving us crap nearby.
This boy with the sad eyes and broken heart has filled me with more love than I know what to do with. It’s one of those kinds of loves that will continue to grow. I’m delighted that he didn’t just give me lunch or the next day or the week.
He gave me him.
The forever him.
And we have decades ahead of us to watch this strong, budding love evolve into something deep and unbreakable. All we need is time to allow it to complete the epic transformation it’ll go through.
We have the time.
Because I asked him to stay.
And he did.