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The Complete Fic Directory
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- Months Go By [Months]
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- Muddied Stars [Brown]
- Not Enough
- Of Peacocks
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- The Price Of Friendship
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- Summertime Feeling - S Club 7
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- That Night In Amsterdam/Do You Love Me? [Part Two]
- This
- Three Sets Of Three
- Twenty-Nine (And A Half)
- Under A Colourless Sky [Colourless]
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- What Did You Say This Time?
- What Will The Papers Say? [Purple]
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- Follow Me
Enchanted To Meet You
It was a night to be forgotten. Or it would have been if it hadn’t been for him. I’d never felt so lonely, so left behind. I stood at the sidelines of everything, occasionally being called upon to force a smile or make small-talk. But for the most part I was lost. Life had pulled my friends just out of my reach. I’d lived through it happening and I was tired of pretending I was just as happy as they were. My smile was wearing thin that night. It would have been too much effort to sustain it...that is, if I hadn’t seen his eyes, twinkling from across the room. It was a spell-breaking; every hollow conversation fell away from me, and the jostle of shoulders and wine glasses parted just enough for me to watch him shining there. I hadn’t known people could shine that way and I watched with intrigue. Who is he? The thought wouldn’t leave me alone. He seemed familiar somehow and I couldn’t shake the sensation that I knew him from somewhere. But I didn’t.
I shouldn’t have watched him the way I did. He didn’t know me, he didn’t know I was looking. I was simply too disinterested in the rest of the world to do anything about my rudeness. He was effortlessly charming; his laugh simply collected people, a few of them I knew. I wondered, briefly, why they were so lucky as to know him when I had such misfortune to be stuck on the other side of the room. Around him the air seemed to crackle, I’m not sure if anyone else saw it but me. A man stood by his side, tall and proud to be seen there with him. He placed his hand on the small of his back, whispered something in his ear. He looked up, smiled and nodded and his friend departed, glancing back over his shoulder a couple of times. I couldn’t blame the man for not wanting to look away. I didn’t. And that’s how he noticed me.
His blue eyes flashed and I felt them hit me square in the chest. As my mind focused a spotlight in on the enchanting lines of his handsome face, he smiled a small, unreadable smile that I knew was meant for me. He turned. At first I thought it was a futile attempt to end my fascination. But then I noticed that he was politely making his excuses. The outline of his form shifted away from the crowd, moving gracefully between the nameless shadows. He was as dismissive of their laughter as I was and suddenly I became aware that, for all his winning smiles, he felt as lost as I did. I don’t think I moved, I don’t even think I breathed. There was something captivating about his light, something genuine in his eyes. I was hardly aware of how close he was until those eyes were right in front of me, his hand extended.
“Jason Orange,” he smiled politely. His hand was rough to the touch.
“Mark Owen,” I murmured my reply.
“Have we met, Mark Owen?” he enquired. I liked the sound of my name on his lips. I liked the way he repeated it. I liked the way his coarse fingers were still gripping my hand as he spoke.
“I wish,” I told him before I realised what I was saying. He quirked his eyebrows mischievously.
“Nice,” he grinned, laughing gently as our hands finally parted. I missed his touch like crazy but I didn’t want to let it show. I wanted desperately to match his bantering tone, so I grinned up at him. He was tall and lean, altogether more willowy than me. He had to angle his head a certain way to look me in the eye, and he did, the entire time. I liked that.
“Don’t let it go to your head though, I’m just bored,” I teased him daringly, his eyes lit up in delight.
“Bored, hmm? This lot not good enough for you?” he shot back, his thin lips playful.
“Maybe I’m just not in the mood to pretend to be the kind of person they want me to be,” I told him, a troubled note creeping into my voice. He looked sympathetic.
“They won’t remember me tomorrow,” he murmured. I thought differently but I didn’t tell him that. He looked almost as tired as I felt in that moment.
“Sounds to me like they’re not good enough for you either,” I smiled and he laughed, the lightness returning to him, his eyes lit up in a blue constellation. I found myself counting the lines of his face, I memorised each like a spell.
“God, listen to us eh? They’ll have us thrown out you know,” he warned.
“But if we got thrown out together, we’d still have company,” I reminded him, our remarks quick and light-hearted. It felt like our little secret, our little corner of genuine warmth in a room that was filled with disinterest.
“And get stuck with you?” he grinned. I feigned outrage, arching my eyebrows.
“You walked over here, remember?” I pointed out. I think he was impressed by my sharpness. I think there was maybe a part of him that liked to be challenged. He might pretend to, but I could tell he didn’t believe in his own importance.
“And you said you wished we’d already met,” he countered. I blushed. I don’t know this because he mentioned it – he didn’t mention it. He was a gentleman, of that much I was certain. But I did blush. I only know this because my cheeks were warm and the room felt stuffy. And yet I still couldn’t make myself move. It was the combination of his gaze and my honesty.
“I think your fan-club are missing you,” my reply was cooler than I felt.
“I’d invite you to join them, but apparently they bore you,” he beamed. I noticed his accent for the first time. More prominent than my own but it was more familiar to me than home.
“You’re from Manchester,” I said suddenly and he pulled a face.
“You’re changing the subject,” he teased and I grinned.
“You’re mean,” I pouted. His eyes shone even more. He enjoyed our game I think.
“I’m leaving,” he replied without moving.
“Well then it was nice to meet you, Jason Orange,” I shrugged.
“Why thank you, Mark Owen,” he smiled. He still didn’t move and silently we gazed at each other. Neither one of us was ready for goodbye. But life had other plans.
“Jay,” a voice pulled his eyes slowly away from mine, his head turned and I ached with disappointment. My cheeks were still warm from his stare, even by the time he turned back to me.
“I’ve got to go,” he sighed and I nodded, watching the dark-haired man arrive at his side and place a protective hand on his shoulder.
“Thought you’d gone without me,” the man smiled. Jason smiled half-heartedly back, still looking at me. I looked down at the floor.
“Don’t be silly Howard, you gave me a lift,” he said quietly.
“True, but half of this room would be more than happy to take you home with them,” Howard replied. I suspected Howard of being somewhat anxious to get Jason home. I think he was all too aware of his good fortune to be here with him.
“See you around, Mark Owen,” Jason smiled, our eyes meeting one more time. I didn’t get the chance to say what I’d wanted to say all evening . It was enchanting to meet you, Jason Orange.
I smiled all the way back home, still not realising the chance I’d let slip by. My smile was quiet as I climbed into bed, reciting to myself every colour in his smile. And then I turned off the light. His smile faded out of my reach, his eyes stilled their twinkling, his laugh vanished into silence. And the words I didn’t say stepped forwards with each heartbeat. Enchanting. It was enchanting. It was so enchanting. To meet you. You. Jason Orange. I hugged the duvet tight, wondering if he knew.
My mind got caught in doubt and worry. Had I imagined the light the emanated from him? Had I imagined that he’d made that path for me? Maybe I’d imagined that he’d been enchanted to meet me too. I didn’t know a thing about him, after all. I knew his name. But why had he been at that party? What did he do for living? Who did he love? What if he loved Howard? I wished on every star I could see, even wished on the odd plane, got desperate and wished on some clouds. Please don’t love someone who isn’t me. Please don’t love Howard. I’m selfish that way sometimes. I didn’t think for one moment of the longing way Howard had said Jason’s name, didn’t care for the hopeful half-touches Howard’s used to keep Jason in his grasp. All I cared about was that I hadn’t fallen for a man I could never be loved by. Because that’s what had forced me to become so selfish; always seeing the ones who didn’t see me. I imagined him turning back instead of leaving, I imagined him coming back across the room, the crowds parting, him smiling. In my head he told me he was enchanted to meet me too. And in my head Howard didn’t look on with wide, sad eyes. He’d already gone home. In fact, I think he might never have been there in the first place. In my head, that’s what happened. But really I’d let him leave too easily, I thought. I’d held back what I thought I saw in his eyes. Just in case I had imagined it, like I had so many times before. The sun was coming up when my eyes closed. I remember mumbling into my pillow ‘When will I see him again?’ but no answer came. I dreamt of the way Howard’s hand gently pressed against Jason’s back. Please don’t be in love with him, please don’t, please. I was enchanted to meet you. Me and only me.
His voice repeating my name was the soundtrack to my weeks. I went to friends’ parties I didn’t want to be at, trying to find the source of that echo, desperate to write a whole story out of the briefest of encounters. But his sparkling eyes eluded me. I imagined Howard holding him back from me once or twice, just to make myself feel better. I turned him into Jason’s captor, just for the sake of convincing myself I hadn’t done it again. Fallen again. Lost myself. Again.
Who’d have thought it, I hadn’t done it again. I can say this now with every confidence.
“Have we met?” a gentle voice behind me, autumnal and warm, had me turning on my heel. Amidst the colourless crowd his eyes were bright. My heart was racing. My eyes forgot to search for Howard as they caught his steady blue gaze instead. I smiled a starry sort of smile.
“Jason Orange,” breathed like a magic charm. He inclined his head and offered his hand.
“Mark Owen,” he replied. That hand was still so rough and so warm. He studied me with his piercing gaze. Say it. Say it! I scolded myself for being so speechless. But he just smiled, his grip tightening and his eyes gentle. I could feel us coming closer. A part of me wondered if Howard was even there, was anyone even there? I think that thought was my mind’s way of preventing my blush. The corner of his smile was playful as he finally let go of my hand only to cup my face. The kiss was on my lips before the words but my mind was no longer present enough to scold me for it. His kiss was firm and sure. Slowly I moved my mouth against his. Our movements were instinctive. Even our parting was both certain and steady. As he tipped our foreheads together, staring into my eyes, I finally found the breathless words I’d forgotten to say that night.
“Enchanted to meet you, Jason Orange.”
I shouldn’t have watched him the way I did. He didn’t know me, he didn’t know I was looking. I was simply too disinterested in the rest of the world to do anything about my rudeness. He was effortlessly charming; his laugh simply collected people, a few of them I knew. I wondered, briefly, why they were so lucky as to know him when I had such misfortune to be stuck on the other side of the room. Around him the air seemed to crackle, I’m not sure if anyone else saw it but me. A man stood by his side, tall and proud to be seen there with him. He placed his hand on the small of his back, whispered something in his ear. He looked up, smiled and nodded and his friend departed, glancing back over his shoulder a couple of times. I couldn’t blame the man for not wanting to look away. I didn’t. And that’s how he noticed me.
His blue eyes flashed and I felt them hit me square in the chest. As my mind focused a spotlight in on the enchanting lines of his handsome face, he smiled a small, unreadable smile that I knew was meant for me. He turned. At first I thought it was a futile attempt to end my fascination. But then I noticed that he was politely making his excuses. The outline of his form shifted away from the crowd, moving gracefully between the nameless shadows. He was as dismissive of their laughter as I was and suddenly I became aware that, for all his winning smiles, he felt as lost as I did. I don’t think I moved, I don’t even think I breathed. There was something captivating about his light, something genuine in his eyes. I was hardly aware of how close he was until those eyes were right in front of me, his hand extended.
“Jason Orange,” he smiled politely. His hand was rough to the touch.
“Mark Owen,” I murmured my reply.
“Have we met, Mark Owen?” he enquired. I liked the sound of my name on his lips. I liked the way he repeated it. I liked the way his coarse fingers were still gripping my hand as he spoke.
“I wish,” I told him before I realised what I was saying. He quirked his eyebrows mischievously.
“Nice,” he grinned, laughing gently as our hands finally parted. I missed his touch like crazy but I didn’t want to let it show. I wanted desperately to match his bantering tone, so I grinned up at him. He was tall and lean, altogether more willowy than me. He had to angle his head a certain way to look me in the eye, and he did, the entire time. I liked that.
“Don’t let it go to your head though, I’m just bored,” I teased him daringly, his eyes lit up in delight.
“Bored, hmm? This lot not good enough for you?” he shot back, his thin lips playful.
“Maybe I’m just not in the mood to pretend to be the kind of person they want me to be,” I told him, a troubled note creeping into my voice. He looked sympathetic.
“They won’t remember me tomorrow,” he murmured. I thought differently but I didn’t tell him that. He looked almost as tired as I felt in that moment.
“Sounds to me like they’re not good enough for you either,” I smiled and he laughed, the lightness returning to him, his eyes lit up in a blue constellation. I found myself counting the lines of his face, I memorised each like a spell.
“God, listen to us eh? They’ll have us thrown out you know,” he warned.
“But if we got thrown out together, we’d still have company,” I reminded him, our remarks quick and light-hearted. It felt like our little secret, our little corner of genuine warmth in a room that was filled with disinterest.
“And get stuck with you?” he grinned. I feigned outrage, arching my eyebrows.
“You walked over here, remember?” I pointed out. I think he was impressed by my sharpness. I think there was maybe a part of him that liked to be challenged. He might pretend to, but I could tell he didn’t believe in his own importance.
“And you said you wished we’d already met,” he countered. I blushed. I don’t know this because he mentioned it – he didn’t mention it. He was a gentleman, of that much I was certain. But I did blush. I only know this because my cheeks were warm and the room felt stuffy. And yet I still couldn’t make myself move. It was the combination of his gaze and my honesty.
“I think your fan-club are missing you,” my reply was cooler than I felt.
“I’d invite you to join them, but apparently they bore you,” he beamed. I noticed his accent for the first time. More prominent than my own but it was more familiar to me than home.
“You’re from Manchester,” I said suddenly and he pulled a face.
“You’re changing the subject,” he teased and I grinned.
“You’re mean,” I pouted. His eyes shone even more. He enjoyed our game I think.
“I’m leaving,” he replied without moving.
“Well then it was nice to meet you, Jason Orange,” I shrugged.
“Why thank you, Mark Owen,” he smiled. He still didn’t move and silently we gazed at each other. Neither one of us was ready for goodbye. But life had other plans.
“Jay,” a voice pulled his eyes slowly away from mine, his head turned and I ached with disappointment. My cheeks were still warm from his stare, even by the time he turned back to me.
“I’ve got to go,” he sighed and I nodded, watching the dark-haired man arrive at his side and place a protective hand on his shoulder.
“Thought you’d gone without me,” the man smiled. Jason smiled half-heartedly back, still looking at me. I looked down at the floor.
“Don’t be silly Howard, you gave me a lift,” he said quietly.
“True, but half of this room would be more than happy to take you home with them,” Howard replied. I suspected Howard of being somewhat anxious to get Jason home. I think he was all too aware of his good fortune to be here with him.
“See you around, Mark Owen,” Jason smiled, our eyes meeting one more time. I didn’t get the chance to say what I’d wanted to say all evening . It was enchanting to meet you, Jason Orange.
I smiled all the way back home, still not realising the chance I’d let slip by. My smile was quiet as I climbed into bed, reciting to myself every colour in his smile. And then I turned off the light. His smile faded out of my reach, his eyes stilled their twinkling, his laugh vanished into silence. And the words I didn’t say stepped forwards with each heartbeat. Enchanting. It was enchanting. It was so enchanting. To meet you. You. Jason Orange. I hugged the duvet tight, wondering if he knew.
My mind got caught in doubt and worry. Had I imagined the light the emanated from him? Had I imagined that he’d made that path for me? Maybe I’d imagined that he’d been enchanted to meet me too. I didn’t know a thing about him, after all. I knew his name. But why had he been at that party? What did he do for living? Who did he love? What if he loved Howard? I wished on every star I could see, even wished on the odd plane, got desperate and wished on some clouds. Please don’t love someone who isn’t me. Please don’t love Howard. I’m selfish that way sometimes. I didn’t think for one moment of the longing way Howard had said Jason’s name, didn’t care for the hopeful half-touches Howard’s used to keep Jason in his grasp. All I cared about was that I hadn’t fallen for a man I could never be loved by. Because that’s what had forced me to become so selfish; always seeing the ones who didn’t see me. I imagined him turning back instead of leaving, I imagined him coming back across the room, the crowds parting, him smiling. In my head he told me he was enchanted to meet me too. And in my head Howard didn’t look on with wide, sad eyes. He’d already gone home. In fact, I think he might never have been there in the first place. In my head, that’s what happened. But really I’d let him leave too easily, I thought. I’d held back what I thought I saw in his eyes. Just in case I had imagined it, like I had so many times before. The sun was coming up when my eyes closed. I remember mumbling into my pillow ‘When will I see him again?’ but no answer came. I dreamt of the way Howard’s hand gently pressed against Jason’s back. Please don’t be in love with him, please don’t, please. I was enchanted to meet you. Me and only me.
His voice repeating my name was the soundtrack to my weeks. I went to friends’ parties I didn’t want to be at, trying to find the source of that echo, desperate to write a whole story out of the briefest of encounters. But his sparkling eyes eluded me. I imagined Howard holding him back from me once or twice, just to make myself feel better. I turned him into Jason’s captor, just for the sake of convincing myself I hadn’t done it again. Fallen again. Lost myself. Again.
Who’d have thought it, I hadn’t done it again. I can say this now with every confidence.
“Have we met?” a gentle voice behind me, autumnal and warm, had me turning on my heel. Amidst the colourless crowd his eyes were bright. My heart was racing. My eyes forgot to search for Howard as they caught his steady blue gaze instead. I smiled a starry sort of smile.
“Jason Orange,” breathed like a magic charm. He inclined his head and offered his hand.
“Mark Owen,” he replied. That hand was still so rough and so warm. He studied me with his piercing gaze. Say it. Say it! I scolded myself for being so speechless. But he just smiled, his grip tightening and his eyes gentle. I could feel us coming closer. A part of me wondered if Howard was even there, was anyone even there? I think that thought was my mind’s way of preventing my blush. The corner of his smile was playful as he finally let go of my hand only to cup my face. The kiss was on my lips before the words but my mind was no longer present enough to scold me for it. His kiss was firm and sure. Slowly I moved my mouth against his. Our movements were instinctive. Even our parting was both certain and steady. As he tipped our foreheads together, staring into my eyes, I finally found the breathless words I’d forgotten to say that night.
“Enchanted to meet you, Jason Orange.”