Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine

August isn’t sure where he should be waiting for Liv to arrive. He’s gotten to the arcade a good half hour ahead of time – the buses haven’t been late, for once – and he’s been slowly losing confidence in his choice of venue ever since. Back when he suggested it to her, he had a different recollection of the neighbourhood. Terraced Victorian homes, verdant leafy streets and cute flower shops, bakeries and cafes at every corner. Now all he can see as he paces up and down the street is litter dangling in the wind and tuckered out homeless curled in the back alleys.

And young people. So many young people, which shouldn’t upset him as much as it is. After all, he’s not old, though his back problems and the tweeds in his wardrobe might disagree, but it’s not exactly age he’s concerned about. It’s the boldness that comes with it. See, not every teenager is as mild-mannered and chronically timid as he is. In fact, most are the exact opposite, brash and dauntless and, having grown up in the West London suburbia, hecklesome.

August looks at his phone, at first only turning his screen on then off, then after a short pause in which he realises he’s got a new notification since ten seconds ago, he actually unlocks it. It’s a text from Liv, an image of her stopped at a traffic light with the caption, ‘Almost there!’

‘Almost where?’ he types back right away. The message is sent, but not received. Crap.

Immediately, he starts at a sprint and immediately, he stops. What’s his plan, really? He doesn’t know where Liv is going to stop, and even if he could somehow predict it, the nearest car park is a ten minute walk away. Unless he teleports, he’ll most likely miss her and she’ll start heading to the arcade on her own. On a different path. Cue the troubles: frantic searches up and down the block, simultaneous calls that bounce off one another to end at dial tones, and a lot of general stress.

Not worth the heartache; he’s better off staying put, sitting on the bike racks. What’s the worst that could happen? God, he could be so hasty sometimes.

The sun is hot and bright, and the damp air wafting off the nearby Thames doesn’t help make it better. At the very least, the muggy times give August an excuse for armpit stains; summer months have been excruciating as of late, doubly so for a people used to wearing shorts when shovelling snow off their driveways. But climate change can’t exactly explain why he’s shivering in 30 degree weather.

It’s not like this is his first date with Liv. That one, in fact, went surprisingly well. Partly because it was nothing more than a shopping trip with romantic subtext, and partly because Liv was the one who planned everything – from the exact sequence of stores they would visit, down to the pair of shoes he should be wearing (Nike trainers; made for walking). But now, and this was a first actually, August was the one to give her the time, place and plan. Liv happily obliged. Needless to say, his anxiety has been through the roof ever since.

It doesn’t help that he just had to get her a little surprise too. Nothing too fancy, nothing too important, August thinks, gripping the tiny box in his pocket as if the void would swallow it if he didn’t. Honestly, it’s pretty silly because they’ve only been dating for three months or so now and an anniversary gift is probably gratuitous and gauche at this point in their relationship.

As is dressing up. At least that much he figured out, because apart from a spritz of cologne and some hair spray, he’s put hardly any effort in his appearance. Just a Tetris tee and some basic jeans, which – no way. Do they have a tear in them? A little above the knee, just shy off the inner seam. Frayed fabric. GRAAAAAA –

A light tap on his shoulder. August quivers, turns around, blinks, and before he can blink again, Liv tackles him with a hug, almost sending them both to the ground. He’s always pictured her as the cool and collected type, calm and reserved with her affection. He’s never been happier to be wrong.

“Sorry I’m late,” she says, after they separate. “Traffic’s been crazy. It’s like everyone and their mother decided to leave London all at once.”

August doesn’t have a reply ready just yet. He’s too busy checking her outfit, a fitted tank top, red flannel around her hips, some washed jorts and a baseball cap to top it off. A far cry from the hyper-feminine fashion she usually wore, but adorable nonetheless.

“Well it is the end of the school year,” August finally nods. “All the children are probably getting shipped to grandma and grandpa’s.”

Liv smirks, “They should learn to take the bus, then. Save the Earth, you know? Can’t remember the last time we had a summer this hot. Anyway, let’s head inside. I don’t think I can survive much longer without air conditioning.”

August opens his mouth, evaluating and reevaluating all his life decisions up until this point, before finally speaking, “Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever been to an arcade before?”

“No, why?”

“No reason.”

It’s probably best he doesn’t tell her that ‘gamer musk’ was a thing way before computers came to be.

* * *

It’s a little past eight when they finally leave the arcade, their eyes unaccustomed to the unceasing brightness of June evenings, their stomachs full with cheap soda and greasy fries, their fingers red and sore.

The date has been, well – predictable. That isn’t to say boring, though. In fact, Liv has thoroughly enjoyed beating August at every single game they touched together – be it DDR or MaiMai, Street Fighter or Mortal Kombat, or Air Hockey and Skee-ball. Hell, she even set a new high score on Godzilla Pinball, which more than doubled the previous record. Turns out they give out a free plushie for that; Liv has chosen a Nyan-Cat with the rainbow trail sporting a political blue, pink and white combo. Some things never change.

But some undeniably do.

It’s not long on their walk towards her car, that Liv sneaks her hand in August’s, gripping it light and tight. In another life, she would be smirking now, all suave and smug about being so forward. Instead, she can’t help but look straight ahead, cheeks dotted with bashful hints of blush. Faintly, she can feel August peeking at her, but when she peeks back, he recoils and starts counting the street lights and post boxes. How cute. She might be the girl, but of the two of them, he’s the bigger maiden.

Their stroll takes them up main street, a cornucopia of pubs and restaurants, past the bus depot – where a certain parking metre is still ticking – round the park and all the way to the river bend. A light breeze sluices down the embankment, ruffling the sails of all the yachts anchored in the marina. It’s a little crazy to think most of them belong to their classmates, but they try not to think about that. School has let out for the year and Astella won’t bother them for a couple months. Right now, the shiny white hulls and the fancy handwriting on it were just part of the nice ambiance.

As night slowly descends, the wind picks up, its teeth sharper and its bite less forgiving. Liv puts on her flannel and buttons it all the way up, and when that’s not enough, she presses herself a little more into August, leeching off his warmth. He doesn’t mind too much, or at least she hopes he doesn’t. Not that he’d tell her anyway; he’s always been too nice like that.

“Wanna stop for a bit?” August says all of a sudden, pointing towards a row of stone benches lining up the shore.

“Hm? You tired, or…”

“A little, yeah. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Liv raises an eyebrow. This would be the third night in a row August has slept poorly, and a pattern makes for a problem. A concerning one, given that they’ve both passed all their finals with flying colours, and the stress of university was still a year in the future. But maybe he’s already started thinking about that? Liv could only hope he’d talk to her about it, if he did.

They sit down, the benches hard but toasty, radiating all the heat they’ve trapped across a full day soaking in the sun. August leans back, spine bent at an odd angle between hunched and level-straight, and Liv wastes no time leaning on him. At first, that unsettles August even more, but it doesn’t take long before he relaxes, a soft sigh whistling out his lips.

Over the course of their relationship, she’s slowly tried pushing the envelope on the more physical side of their relationship. And while August has been receptive for the most part, progress has still been frigid and fraught with reticence. It took him a month to be open to kissing her – on the forehead – and her many attempts to have him sleep over resulted in him bolting out the door at 2AM, invoking all manner of excuses which she frankly couldn’t understand. What did ‘courtesy’ and ‘gentlemanliness’ have to do with anything?

But, at the very least, whenever they watched a film on the sofa, or dozed off on a picnic somewhere, or took a long train ride to the west coast, he would never be opposed to letting her snuggle up to him. Much like she’s doing right now.

Liv’s eyes slowly close. She idly rubs at them, the stars in her vision becoming the stars in the sky. There’s a dull white streak where the moon should be, not clouds but the trail of a passing aeroplane, and her mind goes to comets at first, and then to meteor showers. The Perseids are next month. Would August want to see them?

“Hey, Liv?” he says quietly, not a whisper, but not far from it either.

“Yeah?”

She feels him squirming a little, shifting in his seat as if searching for a comfortable position. Instead, he’s rummaging through his pockets, keys jangling, some coins flopping out, not that Liv can pay them any mind. Without a word or warning, August grabs her hand, spreads it open, then closes it on something plush and square.

At once, Liv’s pulse stops for a second, before resuming at double time. She doesn’t even need to look down to know what she’s holding. “A r-ring box?”

“Ah shit, I forgot about rings! Wait, noooooooo, no no no no no – no.” August takes a deep breath. “Just open it, okay?”

Careful, Liv cracks open the lid. Inside she finds something both expected and unexpected – a heart-shaped pendant, dangling from a thin silver chain. A locket.

“That one too, pop it open – yeah, just like that –”

She gasps. Then frowns. Then whimpers, and sniffles and chuckles in that breathy way that’s part of the overture to a happy ugly sob.

It’s not a photo she remembers August taking, though seeing its odd size and awful resolution it makes sense why. For the past month, August has always charged his phone in an odd position – propped up on the cable, camera pointing directly at the two of them. And for what? Just to capture a candid of their study sessions?

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to take a picture with you.”

“But that would’ve ruined the surprise,” August replies calmly. Then meekly, “That, and I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

“How so?”

August scratches his temple, the tail of his eyebrow, “Well, I remember you not liking them very much. You’d always cover your face or duck out of the frame; when you found out about some of the sneaky shots I took of you playing pool, you made a big fuss about me deleting them.

“And now, well, I get why you were like that. And I guess it’s a hard habit to unlearn because every time you send me an image, it’s like you’re making an effort not to catch any bit of you. Hell, you even take pictures of your outfit of the day laid out on the bed. Who does that?”

There’s something fiery in August’s voice, something passionate and almost disappointed, something that makes her feel bad. It’s silly, really, a childish little hangup she should’ve at least started to grow out of. “I’m – I’m sorry,” Liv mumbles, snapping the locket shut.

“What? I’m not – I’m not scolding you, you know? And I didn’t mean to make it come off that way, it’s just – I was looking through my gallery one day, and I realised that – you weren’t there. And while I was happy that I couldn’t find the old you, I guess – I don’t know. It’s stupid. Sorry.”

“No it’s not!”

It’s never been like Liv to shout. She’s not used to it; her throat feels raw and swollen, and her teeth are still clattering from the sheer force of her yell. But she had to do it. She couldn’t for a second let August believe that she doesn’t want to be a part of his camera roll, a part of his life and memories.

“Take out your phone,” she orders briskly, with redoubled determination. August, perhaps scared to disobey, perhaps conditioned to do as she asks, follows her instructions to the letter. “Camera on. No flash. Take a picture of me whenever you feel like it. Understood?”

August nods. But the shutter click doesn’t come.

It has to be her. She’s too close, for one, so she shimmies towards the end of the bench, then goes through her arsenal of poses. Only to dismiss each one she strikes because – pensively watching the sky? Too whimsical. Chin on her fist, gaze empty and faraway? Too Greek. Arms on the backrest, head tilted to the side? No wonder she didn’t get that call back from Vogue, she’s terrible at this!

Tired, she leans forward, head in hands, mind swimming with pictures of models and magazine covers. Why isn’t August pressing that damn button already? She turns to him and – well, the answer is obvious. He’s white as a piece of chalk, shaking so hard the auto-stabiliser has to work overtime to produce an unblurred frame. If he could, he would’ve probably filled up his entire SD card and cloud storage by now. But that’s impossible right now. He’s so nervous he’d sooner throw up than dream of taking her photo.

And that’s – so cute. And even if she’s expected that to be the case, she can’t help cracking a broad, toothy grin. Which August wastes no time to immortalise.

But see, Liv doesn’t care about that picture. Don’t get her wrong, it’s probably cool and whatever, the lights of the marina meshing with the glow from the Coca Cola billboard to create some sort of nocturnal syncope. Sweet. Boring. There’s something else she has her sights set on now, and it’s quite literally the last thing she needs to make today unforgettable.

“Come closer,” she beckons August. “Now let’s take one with the two of us.”

It’s a little funny how they got to this point, standing shoulder to shoulder in the cold air of the night, faces flushed with a little bit of everything, and a mood between them that can rival the awkwardness of telling a waiter to enjoy their meal. If you asked Liv a year ago if she ever thought she’d be this happy, she would’ve probably told you that she most definitely would – because she would be dead. But a lot can change in a little. And sometimes all you need is the push of something so scientifically advanced it’s indistinguishable from magic.

“I’ll count to three,” August says. “One, two –”

“August?”

“Yeah?”

“Just a heads up, I’m going to kiss you right now.”

And, if everything goes to plan, he’ll be sure to capture the moment.