The Spark

Malik remembered the day they met like a tattoo on his heart, with a heat that lingers long after. The bar was loud that Friday and Malik, on his fifth yawn, messed up the foam on a beer. Meanwhile, Felicitas was wiping her glass with theatrical precision, still playing their guessing game. „The word is the colour of my hair.“

He snorted „Brown?“

„Specific, Malik. Try again. You know these little stones where insects are trapped in?“

He opened his mouth to answer, as one of the birthday guests met the bar.

His mind still rattling with colour names for hair, Malik looked up, meeting the stranger’s eyes.

It felt like a wave consuming him. Heat bubbling up inside him, a bliss blooming low in his stomach. The stranger’s eyes locked with his, like a magnet finding its iron. Their eyes were the colour of leaves pressed between book pages, the stare aiming right at Malik’s heart. The guy in front of him was dressed in a linen shirt, blue-and-white striped, a cap on his slightly curling blonde hair, cheeks reddened in just the exactly rightly cute way.

He was mouthing something, his fine-cut lips moving in an unreadable rhythm. Either it was the heat circulating in his head, that made it impossible for Malik to hear, or it was that the guy didn’t even say something.

Only as Malik shook his head, he bent down, whispering one word „Amber.“

What to make of this? There was no drink called amber. Or was there? Malik felt like he didn’t know where he was anymore. Amber could be anything he was serving here.

The stranger pointed at Felicitas, a small frantic movement of is thumb, and Mallik finally understood.

They both smirked and Malik felt ready to ask for the guy’s drink.

„Sparkling water, please.“

Malik blinked. It was one in the morning. Sparkling water? Wo drank that for real?

„What’s your name?“, he blurted out, while taking a bottle out of the fridge.

„Kris. And you?“

Kris. He turned the name around in his mouth, feeling the edginess, contrasting the guy’s laid-back attitude.

„I’m Malik.“

„Pretty name.“

Mallik hoped not to blush too obviously.

„One sparkling water for Kris. Here you go, sir“

As Kris made his way back, Malik still spiralled over what he said. Recognising how gendered the sir sounded. How manly. His intestines began to twist, his breath shortening, just like at the beginning of a panic attack. Only that it didn’t come.

„What about Amber?“ He said to Felicitas, who put up cards for tomorrow. Today, when looking at the time.

„You solved it.“

Malik’s shift seemed not to end. It was three in the morning when he went to the bathroom for probably the tenth time. People didn’t even order anymore. They kept singing karaoke in the backroom, enjoying themselves, while Felicitas lectured Malik over haircolours and they kept guessing random words, even though Malik’s imagination was dwindling.

As he was soaping his hands, some silhouette moved from the door, entering the small corridor with the only, but huge, basin.

„Here you are.“, Kris said and Malik tried hard to suppress the smile.

„Want another water?“

He laughed. A real one – bright and unexpected. Malik couldn’t help the small pitch of pride in his chest.

„You can’t relate to sparkling water. Haven’t tried it?“

„I did. But not on a birthday,“

„Fair. But I can enjoy my friend’s birthday without alcohol just fine.“

„Oh yeah, I heard.“ Malik didn’t. At leashe couldn’t make out Kris‘ voice. Although he tried.

„By the way, I don’t want to bother, but next time, leave out the sir. I use gender-neutral pronouns and sir is not quite fitting.“

Kris looked so cute in the bright bathroom light. The reveal of vulnerability only made it harder for Malik to look away. He would do what made Kris feel welcome.

„So what do you prefer, instead of sir?“

A grin bled across Kris‘ face. „They/Them as pronouns. But for sir, I think there is no right substitution. People normally use Darling, but sometimes that’s way too close.“

„I kinda like Darling.“

He didn’t know who moved first. Only that suddenly their mouths were touching and the world began to tilt. Kris’ lips were soft, their breath warm, their tongue flicking over Malik’s skin, sending a shiver down his body. Malik yearned for more, ran his fingers over the goosebumps on Kris‘ neck, taking in their soft skin, yielding under his touch. Kris’ hands trembled slightly against Malik’s shirt. Malik melted into them, drawn by a force he didn’t have a name for.

Only as Kris pressed against him, Malik realised the jolt. This wasn’t the first kiss he imagined. Kris was no girl. His heartbeat doubled, the room spun. Panic clawed up Malik’s throat.

„Are you okay?“ Kris asked, worry seeping into their soft voice.

„I’m sorry.“, Malik choked out and fled.

Kris was probably the only person to wake up with a hangover without having drunk a single drop.

Except sparkling water. God, the only thought of it hurt their chest. The night unfolded in their mind, dizzy except for the bathroom. The kiss. The bartender’s lips, his stubble tickling their skin, the urgency in his hands. The way he kissed him like he waited for it his whole life. And then the running. Kris had left the birthday shortly after.

The clock told Kris it was beyond midday, the day being already more than half over. So why not waste the rest of it as well, thinking about the guy, his movements graceful like a cat, his black hair such a beautiful contrast to his white smile? The way he kissed Kris like his life depended on it. Only to leave. For good, as Kris thought. Turned out there was more to it. They couldn’t stop re-reading the message. The bartender, Malik, as he now knew, must have contacted Olivia. Probably asked for Kris‘ number. But Olivia was still asleep or just not answering her phone. So, all Kris was left with was an apology. And a plead for a second chance. He didn’t know if it was hurt or desire flooding his chest.

Malik spotted them at the funfair between food stalls and neon lights. He didn’t know if Kris was the rollercoaster-type, but it was worth a shot. And there he was, his body throbbing with an excitement he never felt before. Never with any of the dates he was on before, which resulted in mostly cringey goodbyes and ghosting from one of the parties. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his shorts, thinking about an adequate way to say hello to Kris. But they were faster, throwing their arms around Malik. Surprised and inexperienced in hugs, he stiffened, covering it with a grin.

Turned out, Kris was the rollercoaster-type well enough. Sharing stories about the night of the birthday and Malik’s bar job, they spend time in three different attractions, pausing from the adrenaline only to eat.

More than the light of the sun, it was the obvious portrayal of happiness on Kris‘ face that made Malik feel relief flooding his body. The way Kris was so laid-back, with their hands in the pockets of their pants, the backwards cap on their blond curls. Was it not too crowded, Malik would fixate on the person next to him other than to the ones crossing their way. A smile was spreading across his face, impossible to hold back.

„What are you smiling at?“ Kris asked, still looking for vegan food spots.

„I… I like doing this. With you.“ God, he sounded so cheesy, didn’t he? They’ve just met.

But they’ve kissed already. Only the thought of that made him giddy, brimming with excitement as well as tension, a dangerous mixture for his mind. It was everything he was able to think about last night, turning around in the sheets, damp from the lingering heat. He had kissed someone. Not a girl, though. It was messing with his identity, thought so clear and grounded. But it only needed that one encounter to change his perception. To show him that he enjoyed more than what he thought he did. His body gave him signals clear enough. And so he had to write Olivia, the birthday girl. Needed to ask for that sweet guest’s number. God, he felt like a teenager, and even though he was eightteen, he thought himself more mature.

His body yearned to kiss Kris again. Still, it frightened him too much. Never before did he recognise people around him so clearly. They were a blur around his mind. But today he was hyper-aware of everyone he saw. And, fear pulsed between his eyes – he was fixated on people he knew. Hoping not to see them, or, actually, not to be seen by them. And it were glances he focussed on. People broadly taking in the whole funfair, others looking on the floor while walking. Kris’ judging glance on his sausage, the gazes of people gliding over them. Would he just get used to this?

Their day passed as a summer bliss, beautiful in their shining bubble. But didn’t bubbles always burst?

The sun was already sinking as Kris took Malik’s hand. Their fingers tingling over his palm, a sensation wrapped around his body, goosebumps building on his arms. He didn’t dare to look right, couldn’t face Kris. Their grip was firm, warmth dancing on his skin. He carefully wrapped his fingers around Kris‘. Still, they weren’t alone. Like in a tunnel, Malik felt his nerves buzzing. The people’s noise became louder than usual, their faces way too detailed. Someone glanced at them, their hands. Sweat broke out on Malik’s forehead, the heat aiming targeting him. As his breath quickened, he finally let loose of Kris‘ hand, dropping it like a stone right in their heart.

„He asked for your number.“ Cross-legged, Olivia sat at the lounge, once their go-to place in the bar. Before Kris crushed on one of the bartenders. They needed a lot of convincing to place a foot in there. But Malik was not here, neither his amber-haired colleague. The ice in Olivia’s tonic was already dissolving. Kris didn’t even order something, unable to speak out sparkling water without blushing.

„But I can’t take it again.“ They were fiddling with their bracelet, almost as nervous as the day they went to the funfair. „I don’t want to be stood up again.“

Olivia nodded. „I know you feel something for this guy and I know you won’t just let it go easily. So, come on and answer him.“

The message was on their phone for three days now. And it was just the same as last time. An apology. And a plead for a second chance. Actually, a third chance. As a romance reader, Kris knew that there were a lot of second chances. But a third chance was rather an indicator that maybe the guy was not the right one. And by the amount of tears Kris cried the last days, this indicator was probably right.

Shame lingered on his skin, like smoke in the air. It forced Malik to hide in his room, listening to his playlist with headphones. His mom was somewhere downstairs, complaining about empty soap and a full dishwasher. Malik only turned the music louder, penetrating his ears with the piano tunes that made him cry the last days, overlapping with his father’s friends, clinking glasses in the kitchen.

He hadn’t told them what happened. Hadn’t told them about Kris at all. His parents gave him the impression of being wrong often enough. He scrolled through his WhatsApp, leaving all the open chats unanswered, feeling like a loser. A day before, he quit his job. Couldn’t bear to work in such an memory-soaked environment. Couldn’t go to the bathroom, where he shared his first kiss. Where he broke his first chrush’s heart for the first time.

It was at the groceries where Malik made the decision. It was the first day his skin was not saggy from all the crying, his eyes not red anymore. Also, it was the eighth day, Kris hasn’t answered to his message. Going shopping was the distraction he needed. And at the same time everything he felt able to do at the moment. Following no specific list, he threw everything in his basket that looked kind of interesting. Mostly snacks for the next days, something to eat. The light in the supermarket was extremely bright, illuminating the strangers‘ faces. Giving Malik the hope that he mind find someone there. At the water aisle, he hesitated. Someone was there, blue-striped linen-shirt. Malik heartbeat quickened, excitement pulsating through his body. Until the person turned around and revealed to not be Kris at all.

His heart sank with his smile fading. Still, he took a bottle of sparkling water. He never really tried it before and maybe Kris was right.

As he passed the dairy section, doubt filled his stomach. The package of milk lingered in his hands, heavy with guilt. As he swapped it for oat milk, a smile crossed his face, the first one for days. Maybe he could be a better person after all.

At dinner, he said the words he twisted inside his mouth for days. When he blurted out „I like all genders.“ between heartbeats, the room went muffled and quiet. He flinched back in the apprehensiveness of their answers. Found surprise baffle him as they only smiled. As their questions didn’t come. Those questions Malik prepared answer for, carefully planted them in his mouth already. His joy was only dampened by the question who’s the lucky guy. It took him another few days to tell them. Over Macaroni he again found the words to tell his family what he felt. Again, they listened. And again they understood, letting warmth resolve in his body. And for the time maybe, he felt like he didn’t mess it all up. His mother promised to look up vegan recipes in the future, letting him do the shopping way more often.

Malik applied for a medicine test the week thereafter. He wanted to do something after all. With his A-Level set a few months ago, he felt like life was fully his. His choice to choose a career and his choice to live as he wanted. Where he wanted. With his own money, he’d move out, find a place somewhere else, studying medicine and building a new social circle. And therefore, he needed a job.

He went to the bar another Friday. Felicitas shrieked as she recognised him, hugged him so tight he had to laugh. He could become familiar with this kind of greeting after all. „Guess who’s here?“ She said it cheerfully, but his smile faded.

Kris sat on one of the lounges, a glass of water in front of them – non-sparkling though. Their friend Olivia was there with them, one arm around Malik’s crush’s shoulder.

„Hey“ he said.

Kris flinched. Blinking like they didn’t believe their eyes. „Hey“

„I’m sorry.“ These were the only words left that Malik dreaded to say. „I didn’t know how to behave. I know, I hurt you. I didn’t want to.“

It felt like a wall torn down around him. As if he could finally see the world, break free from his old life.

Kris was staring at him. „I’m sorry, too. For not answering you. I didn’t know how to tell you.“

Malik’s eyebrows furrowed. „How to tell me what?“

„I want to start anew.“ Sadness seeped into their voice. „I’ll move to Stockholm.“ Their eyes not meeting Malik’s.

It suited them so well, Malik got almost angry. He could picture Kris in Sweden so well. Letting go of the temptation of anger, Malik smiled wholeheartedly. „That’s…cool. Totally.“ And he meant it.

„Sounds so unlike you to say.“ Kris laughed. „Seems like you’ve changed more than your haircut.“ They pointed at his new buzz cut.

„Maybe I did. Thank you for letting me get to know you.“ He turned to Olivia. „And thank you for inviting Kris.“

It took a lot of tears for Malik to realise he didn’t change for Kris. Days passed and Malik noticed something – he felt lighter. Even without Kris, he worked, more than before, he connected with friends and is family. He went to the funfair, cooked vegan dishes and applied for university. They hadn’t seen each other for weeks, but still, Malik felt more like himself than ever before. And as much as he needed Kris to find that out about himself, as much he still cried after them. But his life finally unraveled in front of him and better to be happy late than not at all.

The next time, a cute costumer walks in, Malik won’t hesitate. Not anymore.