The way it happened was this;
He had the smile of an angel and the laugh of one who had known pure joy and he believed in magic and he was the most amazing thing she had ever seen.
She didn't know anything else about him, this amazing boy, but for the first time in her life she wanted to learn.
His eyes are the shooting stars that she used to wish upon and the freckles on his cheeks and arms are the constellations she could never find.
They trace pictures on each other's skin and make up stories to go with them, and even though the pictures always end up being kissed away, that's just as good as the stories.
One time they find a marker and spent a whole evening writing on each other, just silly little things, but when he pulls up the sleeve of her shirt to doodle on her arms, he stops and runs his finger along one of the many scars there, studying how it has warped and pulled her skin.
"What's that from?'
She doesn't answer, so instead of pestering her he covers the scar with the words 'YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL.'
He never fails to make her cry, but lately they're always happy tears, so that's all right.
The taste of him is embedded in her lips and his scent is in everything she owns.
Sometimes it feels like she can't breath because of it. Once she even has a panic attack after two weeks of not seeing him (and she hadn't had once for years) but then he comes around and she remembers how to draw breath again.
When he's there, she remembers things she never thought she knew.
He's taught her so many things. Like how to tie a cherry stem with her tongue and how to walk on her hands and how to see things that aren't really there (or maybe they were there all along, and she just didn't know how to look), how to wish on shooting stars and find every constellation in the sky.
"There's nothing to it," he says.
"Not when you already know how," she grumbles, but he just laughs.
He also taught her how to be spontaneous, which is something she could never do before. Now they spend whole days living on the edge, doing things they would never dare do if they had thought about it first.
"Is it spontaneous if you plan on being spontaneous?' she wonders. He just laughs his angel's laugh, and drags her off to go bungee jumping or whatever.
This is how he lives. By living.
"How do we know this is right?"
"Then how can we tell whether or not we should be doing this?"
"I don't know. Just… how do we know we're really supposed to be together?"
"Then how –"
"You just have to believe."
She can't look at him because she doesn't want him to see her about to cry. She's scared that she forgot how to believe before she even learned how.
"Believe in what?"
"Whatever you want."
Doesn't he understand that it doesn't work that way? You can't just say something is true and make it so.
"There's nothing to it." He takes her hands and holds them, presses them to his smiling lips. "You just have to feel it.'"
He lays her hands over her heart – "Here," he says – her forehead and her ears – "here, and here." He's still smiling.
She doesn't understand, but for the first time in her life, she wants to learn.