There is always a story. And this one may be a girl-meets-boy, or a boy-meets-girl one, but you should know one thing.
This is not a love story.
It is a story about feeling the wrong feelings at the wrong time, and the right feelings for the right person. It is about heartbreak and heartache. About pain and suffering.
About battles with anxiety and fears. About battling fights, that aren’t your own, alongside a person that will never be yours. It is about learning that the currency of love is grief and that unrequited love is very, very expensive. About sweet breaths shared in between stolen kisses and smiles, and bitter words that keep on lingering long after they are said. About morning coffees and midnight giggles and sleepless nights and days spent wondering where did it all go downhill.
But most importantly, it is about a place not belonging to Earth, and a time when minutes and hours didn’t exist and clocks measured room temperature. It is about a girl, and a boy, in a hut by a fireplace where birds sing in winter and rain drops fall horizontally and very, very loudly.
It is about different types of love, per se. But it is not a love story.