If locker rooms would know me

It was like a dream happening true
It was the summer of 07 and it was May and the nights were filled with moths flying at our faces, with a gush of wind every now and then. I would look at her, pointing out at the night sky, telling me about some random constellation in a made-up voice of Miss Rossie and I think she sounded more like our algebra teacher but she disagreed. Afterwards we would stand there, not talking. It should have been a movie.

Her hair was curly and it was always unkempt. Some kids back in highschool used to say that it looked kinda like those ramen noodles we saw in ads on the tv. That did earn her a nickname back then but she didn’t really care.
Once we ran barefoot all the way from Mansarover to Meer Ghat and we kept running for what felt like an infinity but we did stop somewhere in the middle, to catch our breaths. And she was laughing and we were panting and I swear to God I never could catch my breath, not with her around.

She was a siren, in a town holding it’s breath. She was a goddamn siren drawing me in and I was quite the jumper. Our love was an emergency with no exits.

We used to exchange songs every weekend. She told me about this band called My Chemical Romance and I made her listen to The Vamps and she scoffed at their name. But I didn’t really mind.
For a while, we tried to push our feelings away but that didn’t work. What happens when an arsonist tries to be a firefighter. I would douse my heart in petroleum, and she would light a match, even before either of us even put the fire out.

That summer ended too soon and she moved to another town for college and it has been four years since. She still does a bad Sagan impersonation and I still haven’t been able to catch my breath.
When we met, I sang her an MCR song and she laughed and told me that there is no song in the world that could describe the way we felt. And I think she was right. There’s no background score for us, only sirens wailing in the distance. No exits.