**_Rayburn_**

If my parents never died in that fire, would I have ever met Oswald?

I think so.

Even if I did grow up with my parents, loved and adored by the people who created me, I think I would have met Oswald down my path.

Maybe I would be going on a trip one day when I grew older. Maybe I would go into Smallerville just to see the historic place.

Then I would see him—he would probably be working on his farm if he’d never met me—strongly built, mixed skin bulging with muscle, reddish hair curling and shining with the intention of catching your attention and keeping it.

Maybe he would sense me, sense my alike presence and turn to me. Out eyes would lock, our hearts would race. We would know then that we were meant for each other.

But maybe, since we’d never met before that period, he would be engaged to Ann Marie. Knowing him and the way he acted to her advances when we were together, he would find a way to end their relationship in the most pain. Not on purpose, of course, just because he knew no other way.

Then we would talk, we would grow to love each other. By this time I would have been introduced to the magic community and gained many friends and acquaintances. I would have had a nice public life and an equally wonderful home.

Maybe, being the bright, outgoing young man I was, I would invite him to my home one night. Maybe we would undergo some activities with the touching of skin. Maybe that would be the day that Oswald would never want to leave me.

We would be happy with our life. I would meet Oswald’s family, I would make him a fitted part of my life. There is no other way, no other path, except the one with us together.

Because no matter the changes in our decisions or life itself. Fate knows what is to be done, and it makes it so.

So even in reality, with me as the shell of the rude, shy, sarcastic boy I was before, broken from the boy I had loved by my own relative and my own choice, I know that somehow, in some strange way, Oswald would find me again.

Even if it took years.

Even if it took us till death.

Because I love him, and even though I broke his heart, I’m sure he loves me.

I know he does.

***

(_Now I know it’s not really a poem _🙂‍↕️_ but come on…. You can’t help but love my angst—but equally hopeful—skinny boi! _

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_Anyways, thanks for reading this and have a wonderful day! _💙_)_