It would almost slip out sometimes, when I wasn’t paying close enough attention to my words – the “L Bomb.” It tried several times to escape during that final, deep intake of breath at the end of a particularly hard laughing fit. It fought away from my lips that I could barely keep clasped together when we stared at each other late at night, struggling to control our teenage antics.

It caught me by surprise how soon I started thinking about you in that way, and I was sure you thought about me the same. But I didn’t want to give in, not just yet; I didn’t want to be that guy who fell in love too fast. There was no fighting it, though. I loved you just as much then as I did when I finally let it explode. And when that bomb went off, we stood together in awe of the effects. I remember the vibrant colors, and the rush of air as the world flew around us, and the feeling of your arm around my shoulder while we gazed forever upwards at the greatest spectacle of our lives.

I never expected the dust to settle so soon, covering my world with endless grays, when I had finally gotten used to the gold of your eyes. When I had finally started to believe I actually deserved to live in a world of color.