1 The Train
We met on the last train out of the city at 11:47 p.m. You were reading poetry aloud to an empty carriage. I sat across from you just to listen. When the train lurched, your hand landed on my knee to steady yourself. You didn’t move it. I didn’t want you to.
At the final stop we were the only ones left. You looked at me and said, “The world feels different tonight.” I answered, “Then let’s not waste it.” We got off together and never looked back.
2 Midnight Beach
We walked until the town disappeared and there was only moonlit sand. You took off your shoes first. I followed. Then your dress. Then everything.
We ran naked into the sea, laughing like children, kissing like we’d done this a thousand times before. The water was cold, your mouth was warm. When we finally made it back to shore we didn’t bother with clothes. Just lay on your jacket, skin to skin, counting stars and heartbeats.
3 The Abandoned House
We found an old beach house with broken windows and a mattress someone left behind. Moonlight painted silver stripes across our bodies.
We made love slow and reverent the first time — whispering “are you sure?” and “yes, God yes” and “I already love you.” The second time was urgent, desperate, like the sun might rise and take you away. You cried when you came. I kissed every tear and promised the sun could never have you.
4 3:17 a.m.
We couldn’t sleep. You rode me on the creaky floorboards while the ocean roared outside. I had my hand over your mouth so the sound wouldn’t wake the ghosts. When you came you bit my palm hard enough to leave marks I still have.
After, we lay tangled and whispered every secret we’d never told anyone. You said you were scared of being ordinary. I told you loving you already made me extraordinary.
5 The Pier
We walked to the end of the old pier as the sky turned lavender. You sat on the railing, legs wrapped around my waist, and we made love one last time with dawn breaking behind us.
There were no words left. Just breathing, shaking, clinging like we could fuse ourselves together and stop time. When we came it felt like the whole world exhaled with us.
6 First Light
The sun rose and the world didn’t end. You looked at me with sleepy, love-drunk eyes and said, “So… what now?”
I kissed you soft and slow and answered, “Now we live the rest of our lives proving last night wasn’t a dream.”
7 Years Later
We still go back to that beach every year on the anniversary. Still make love on the same pier at sunrise. Still get barefoot the moment we arrive.
The house is gone now, but we bring a blanket and lie exactly where the mattress used to be. You still bite your lip the same way when you’re close. I still taste salt and eternity when I kiss you.
One night was never enough.
So we turned it into forever.
Thank you for getting off that train,
for running into the sea naked,
for choosing me when the sun came up.
I love you more today
than I did that first dawn,
and I’ll love you even more tomorrow.
— Always yours, Leo