Before sunrise.

The sky felt heavy with clouds, when we got to Bruges that day.
I remember waiting for your bus to arrive in Brussels, trying to breath out my anxiety with many cigarettes. What if I couldn’t find you? What if you didn’t come? What if you did come? I had no idea what to expect from this let’s go to Bruges’ weekend. Did it meant you fancied me? At least a little? I had no clue. You were so hard to read.
When we woke up from a nap we both seriously needed, in this crowded mixed dorm, it was already dark outside. I still felt so nervous I needed a drink. No, I needed drinks. To get myself being funnier, more comfortable in your presence. I still couldn’t figure out if this was a date or a random getaway of two people sharing interests.
I was about to leave for Taiwan, you happened to have lived there for many years. I just came back from New Zealand, and that’s where you come from. I’m French and you were trying to make a living in Paris by teaching. All those dots on the world map seemed to bring us together. With a kind of shitty timing, though. But we were having this night in Bruges and it felt like a gift, like a tiny opened window to get us closer.
I got drunk quite fast and it seemed to amuse you a lot. I could see your eyes sparkling while looking at me right in the eyes. We were randomly walking, our feet getting tired by the paved streets. Did I really look at the scenery or was I too busy to try to read your beautiful clear blue eyes?
I remember telling you not to quit on me, I was too drunk to be able to find my way back to the hostel. ‘Don’t leave me’, I said. You said something I didn’t quite understand, that started with ‘ Don’t trust me’, I implored you by saying ‘oh no, please don’t ,[leave me]’ I haven’t heard you saying I shouldn’t trust you because you wanted to kiss me. You managed to hide your disappointment so well, I didn’t even realised I might have missed my chance to fall into your eyes.
You wanted me to listen to this tune you loved and put your headphones on my ears. You put the volume up, so I’d be all into the music. You took my hand and lead me through the narrow quiet streets of Bruges. I was floating. I was calmly happy. And the tune seemed to last forever, it was suspended in time, nothing else existed besides your hand, and your favorite tune delighting my ears. Have I ever felt so light? I realised it had been ages. I was aware I was living a rare romantic moment and it didn’t matter if you were really into me or not, your fingers pressed against mine were all that mattered.
When you said you’d really like to kiss me, your eyes sparkling out of drunkenness and desire, I felt a relief. No, I wasn’t imagining things. You were interested. And I was so into you already, falling for you more and more as the night went on, that I couldn’t resist. Our first kiss. This first kiss made everything else disappears. This crowded Irish bar where you ordered a glass of white wine for me. My anxiety of falling for someone much older than me. The foolishness of kissing a man while I was departing for Taiwan the next month. The medieval beauty of Bruges and the taste of French fries. I was floating on a cloud again, suspended on your lips. I hadn’t been kissed that way in a long time. Your lips were so sweet and the kissing so smooth. The connection was so obvious by now it still makes me shiver.
When I left you at the bus station the next day, I still couldn’t quite believed what happened. I even had a hard time believing you when you said you’d very much like to see me again. Bruges must have had happened in another dimension, where all you’ve seen in those cheesy absurds romantic movies could actually come true.
What were the odds of us finding each other in fucking Bruges?