28
Ella
1 Year Ago — August 2017
“A re we ready for the final reveal? It’ll be worth it, I swear!” Matt says, a grin of anticipation on his face. He grabs my hand and leads me further into Southampton Common.
I come face to face with a grass clearing with a tree in the middle. All around the tree are bluebells in full bloom. He’s the one who planted them there; we planted a few bulbs here together a few months ago, but we didn’t plant this many.
“Did you – did you do this?” I grin.
He turns to face me. “Bluebells for my Ells Bells.”
My arms snake around his neck, and I stare into his proud eyes. Nothing could be better than this moment; just Matt and me, surrounded by bluebells that he planted.
“This is the most romantic thing ever,” I whisper. He puts his forehead on mine, and I stare into his eyes again. “When did you do all this?”
“A while ago. I told you the final reveal would be worth it!” He smiles, and we both start shifting our bodies in a clumsy, slow dance. We move to a silent beat that harmonises with our heartbeats.
“I love it, Matty. Thank you.”
He kisses my head. “If we only have one year left together, then this will be our place,” he mutters, and everything stands still around us. A cool chill works its way through my clothes and up my spine despite the warm weather. We still move in time together, though. “There will always be bluebells growing here, no matter what happens. I’ll still come and plant them for you. Maybe if we only have one year left, we can find each other here eventually.”
I don’t say anything in response. It’s a bittersweet thought; that no matter what happens in a year, we may not be together because we’ll be forced apart by some powerful, inhumane force. Yet he’ll still create a safe space for us in the hope that we can still be together.
“We can come here, find each other, and even for the briefest of moments just come back to this: me and you.”
I glance up at him. His dark eyes glisten over with the thought of us being forced apart. The sobering reality of our potentially short time has finally collided with him. The usual optimistic attitude is replaced by the realistic one.
I know that means it’s my cue to reassure him. “Matty, I don’t care what happens in a year. We’ll be together. We will find a way.”
He smiles, yet a tear escapes. I take my index finger and wipe it away, replacing it with a kiss instead.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you too.”
“We will find a way, I promise you.” His optimism returns and I smile in response.
“Here.” I let him go, approach a bluebell, and pick it from the ground. I know it might upset him, but I’m hoping what I’m about to do will make him forget that I’ve picked one of his handiworks. “They say that if you manage to turn a bluebell inside out without ripping it, you’ll win the heart of your love.”
He smiles and takes the flower from me, his eyes lighting up at the memory of when he first told me about the superstition. I watch him think it over and I bite my lip, wondering if he’ll manage it. I try not to let the sly smile escape by chewing lightly on my lip.
He turns the flower inside out in one, swift movement. We both inspect it closely.
“Damn,” he sighs, showing me the tiny, tiny rip on the inside of the flower. I put my hand on his cheek and move his head so we’re looking at each other.
“I think it’s superstition,” I mention. “You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because these flowers look the same. This one?” I gesture to the ripped inside-out bluebell. “This one is unique because you made it different from the others, which makes me love it even more than the ones in the ground. So, I think if you turn the bluebell inside out, it doesn’t matter whether it rips, because it’ll differ from any other bluebell. Plus, you did it for me.”
The smile that breaks out on his face is enough to make my body sing and tingle. He takes the bluebell and pokes it through a twist in my plait, so it acts as an accessory in my hair.
“I love you more than anything. I don’t care what happens a year from now; you’ll always have my heart, Matty.”
He doesn’t wait for me to breathe before grabbing me into a kiss so desperate it stops my heart. I put a hand in his curls and deepen myself in his hold. His touch brings me to life and I melt, wanting to be as close to him as I can get, so there’s no distinction between him and me, or me and him.