damnitarmand:

Send me 🕗 and a year and I will give you a glimpse at what my character’s life was like at that point in time.

1986. You were new in the blood and full of wonder, spinning in circles as you saw each corner of the cities that we had chased each other around afresh. And more, increasingly more each night I found myself daring to be happy, letting you open me to each experience. It didn’t really matter if we lost our way on the paths we blazed through cities; it just meant more to discover with you. The nights were ours and we were equals in them at last, the sensation of your teeth breaking my skin juxtaposed with neon lights and endless possibility.

And of course, there was always the Night Island to return to; always the crash of the surf to stand in, the beach to wander at will together in intense conversation, and the gleaming white fortress of our own Villa of the Mysteries. It was idyllic. It was everything either of us had ever hoped for, everything I had denied myself and everything that I now gave myself over to.

I will never regret that time, regardless of where the future leaves us.