Archive of Our Own

It's never just one shot and done for Eliza. There is so much more possibility before her, everywhere and anywhere she chooses to look. And she is stubborn; she always seeks the perfect moment. But there is so much more behind that beauty, so much they don't see. An image captures one moment, but only one in the story that had to unfold to reach it.

The sun is setting, but Eliza doesn't spare the brilliant sky a glance. She stands in the center of the park, with the dappled leaves and rich colors. Surrounded by such beauty, Eliza tilts her head towards the bits and pieces of sky peeking out from above. She is so lucky be alive right now, right in this moment, one she'll never quite have again.

So I'm going to capture it forever.

Eliza tilts her tripod up as well; mimicking her own human, non-mechanical movement. The pictures are quick, and Eliza looks at them judgmentally, assessing the colors and exposure in particular.

She glances around the park, and feels her gaze drawn to a certain bench. And on that bench sits a man, a man that Eliza vaguely remembers seeing before. Eliza searches her mind, and it gives her a memory from the library: him deep in thought, books spread out before him on the old, wooden table. But Eliza doesn't know him, no. She would ask him to move, but... A certain discomfort rises within her, the awkwardness that comes from being unsure. Eliza settles for looking through her images again, pretending she's busy, hoping he'll leave.

She could take a picture somewhere else, she knows. But Eliza is stubborn, and always seeks the perfect moment, which currently involves the bench. Oh, it would be gorgeous, the trees arching above and casting their shadows toward it, empty. She looks at the street in the distance. Cars rush by with their headlights as always, and the elegant streetlights glow in preparation for the night to come. Yes, it would be a beautiful backdrop, in focus or out of focus.

"Do you need me to leave?" a voice asks, and Eliza's head snaps up to see the face of the man before her. She can see a certain inquisitiveness within his dark eyes, and it's absolutely bright and genuine.

Tamping down the awkward tension within her, Eliza opens her mouth to respond. "Actually, if you could, that'd be great. I'm sorry to make you move—you can have it back as soon as I'm done," she says, offering him a small smile.

He returns the smile, and Eliza feels a pleasant warmth bubble up somewhere inside her chest. "It's no problem!" he assures her. "As long as I can see your pictures afterwards, of course." He chuckles at that, and so does Eliza. For a few seconds, they become one being, united by the feeling of a sudden camaraderie.

"Okay. I'll show them to you, then. It's a deal!" Eliza chirps. All of the awkwardness has dissipated, and it's replaced by a buoyant lightness. She tucks a lock of dark hair behind her ear during the pause of silence.

He nods, and retreats farther into the park, settling on a bench and flipping his book open once more. Eliza's eyes linger on him for longer than they should, but she turns away soon to face her camera. She takes longer this time, making sure the angle is what she wants, and taking a few images with longer shutter speeds. The light trails from the stream of cars add brilliant color, and Eliza thinks to herself that she is proud of the ethereal effect she created.

Lost in the piece of world before her, Eliza almost doesn't realize she has a promise to fulfill until she hears a car horn. The world is more than what's seen; the world is something experienced fully in any and every way. But it can all be so overwhelming, so why not take the time to slow down, and focus on one thing?

Eliza whirls around, and the man is still reading. He looks completely absorbed, but it's getting dark. So Eliza carries her tripod and camera over to him, and says, "I'd hate to interrupt some quality reading, but here are my photos." He looks up immediately, his expression of concentration turning to one of excitement.

"Yes! Yes! Give them to me, I am ready!" he exclaims, slapping his book down onto the bench with a loud smack. He jumps to his feet, and looks at Eliza with a bright face and a wide, happy smile. Eliza can see that it's the kind that's absolutely, totally genuine, and wow, does it take her aback. He's so alive and animated right now, and Eliza thinks to herself that it's so cute. A smile spreads across her face as well, and she doesn't make an effort to subdue it. She can't remember the last time anyone was so excited to see her work. But it always touches Eliza, when someone looks forward to seeing her pictures, when someone believes in her.

Eliza removes her camera from the place it sits on her tripod, and hands it to him. "Here you go!"

He clicks through the pictures, taking in everything presented to his eyes, those eyes, that grant us the gift of beautiful sight. Eliza watches his face, the little nuances of expression he makes, and his approving nods. The minutes pass by in their eternal trajectory, always heading for something no one knows.

But the man looks up, and Eliza's heart jumps at the same time the minutes seem to pause. When he speaks, respect fills his voice. "They're amazing," he says simply, giving the camera back to Eliza.

"Thank you," Eliza replies, trying to keep her composure. Inside, she feels elated at the compliment, but she decides to stay within the realm of formality. After all, she doesn't know him. "Now, I have to go. I'm glad you liked them, so...goodbye!" She picks up her tripod, puts it into her carry bag, and turns around, with the camera around her neck.

As Eliza begins a brisk walk, she notices the dim, dark sky. The trees are starting to become silhouettes, only appearing to be shadows of what they are in light. Her feet hit the sidewalk steadily, which is something unreal at this particular time, not quite solid, but there. It's the time of day when nothing exists in full, and Eliza savors it.

Then she hears it, and it's so real in the midst of evening shadows. "See you soon!" the man calls, and Eliza turns her head to see him waving at her. She gives him a quick wave in return, and continues on her way.

Her apartment is rather close, and Eliza picks up her pace as it comes into view. By the time she opens her apartment door, she has realized that she never asked the man for his name. Pushing away the twinge of regret, Eliza sets her equipment down by the desk.

She doesn't do much editing to her photos tonight. Instead, Eliza clicks through them, with the words of her photography professor from years ago ringing in her mind: Try to create a narrative with your images. What kind of story do you want to tell?

She sees a quiet story of graceful trees reaching for the sky, and a deserted park at sunset, undisturbed and serene. She sees the hint of mystery within the shadows that creep at the edges, a slight uncertainty of the undefinable time between afternoon and evening. She sees the peace of a smooth wooden bench, but set in a fast-paced life that doesn't slow down for anyone or anything. Because the sun comes up, and the world will still spin.

But Eliza doesn't see him.

She sighs to herself as she gets up from her chair, and heads to the bathroom. If she'd asked... It wouldn't have hurt, would it? He could have been part of the narrative.

—

Those words of his do come true. It isn't long before Eliza sees him again at the library, sitting at a table with his books, papers, and laptop keeping him company. As she chats with the upstairs desk staff, the bin of books to be returned to the children's room clutched to her chest, Eliza sneaks a glance at him. She actually manages to catch his eye, and before she drops the eye contact, she sees his lips turn up at the corners. Eliza's eyes flick back to him, and she smiles before seamlessly joining the conversation again.

Hesitant at first, Eliza's foot slides to her left, toward the man. She decides to obey her heart, and moves toward him. "I'll talk with you guys later!" she says over her shoulder, and walks to the table where he sits.

"So, how's it going?" Eliza begins, and she prays that the nervousness jumping around inside her doesn't show through in her voice. To distract herself from the strange coil of apprehension that is now twisting together in her stomach, Eliza sets the book bin on the table. It hits the table with a bit of a smack.

"It's been going well," he says, with a warm, amicable tone, and it's light and dances upon the air with a delicacy that belies its substance. Before Eliza can say another word, he pushes his chair back, stands up, and extends his hand across the table. "The name's Alexander. I'm Alexander Hamilton."

Eliza bobs her head, and they shake hands. She registers Alexander's touch upon her skin, and dwells upon the comforting firmness before replying. "I'm Eliza Schuyler. I forgot to ask for your name the other day—well, evening. It's a pleasure to be formally introduced to you!"

"Indeed. I wasn't expecting to see you quite this soon, Eliza, but it's certainly a pleasure. Do you work here?" Alexander asks, glancing at the book bin and its contents.

"Yes. I'm the library's youth services specialist. My work is downstairs," she explains, gesturing to the door with both hands. Eliza thinks about the work awaiting her a staircase away, and the work right in front of her, awaiting Alexander's attention. She wonders if she should get going and bid her farewells, but Alexander straightens up slightly, and Eliza knows he wants to say something.

Expecting a response, Eliza is surprised when Alexander instead begins to gather his papers into a neat pile. She takes it as her cue to leave, and reaches for the book bin, fingers curling around the handles. She's about to lift it up, but then the words come. "I'm an assistant professor of political economy, and I've been working on research for a publication here at your library. I've got to say I thought you were a professional photographer that night," he confesses, a sheepish look on his face.

Eliza freezes, arms tense as they keep the bin hoisted a fraction of an inch above the smooth surface of the table. Her eyes widen, and she says in shock, "Oh really? You did? Wow, that's such a compliment. Thank you so much!" She has never felt so light, so free, floating on the weightlessness that fills her, expanding into a soft, glowing happiness. Eliza's feet look like they are firmly planted on the carpet, but she doesn't feel it. Between the burgundy carpet and her feet, there is an imperceptible space keeping Eliza from being grounded. But no outsider would be able to see that.

"I'm sure you could be a professional," says Alexander, grinning at Eliza.

—

Those words of his do come true. It isn't long before Eliza sees him again at the library. He sits at a table with his books, papers, and laptop keeping him company. As she chats with the upstairs desk staff, the bin of books from the children's room clutched to her chest, Eliza sneaks a glance at him. She actually manages to catch his eye, and before she drops the eye contact, she sees his lips turn up at the corners. Eliza's eyes flick back to him, and she smiles before joining the conversation again.

Hesitant at first, Eliza's foot slides to her left, toward the man. She decides to obey her heart, and moves toward him. "I'll talk with you guys later!" she says over her shoulder, and walks to the table where he sits.

"So, how's it going?" Eliza begins, and she prays that the nervousness jumping around inside her doesn't show through in her voice. To distract herself from the strange coil of apprehension twisting together in her stomach, Eliza sets the book bin on the table. It hits the table with a bit of a smack.

"It's been going well," he says, with a warm, amicable tone, and it's light and dances upon the air with a delicacy that belies its substance. Before Eliza can say another word, he pushes his chair back, stands up, and extends his hand across the table. "The name's Alexander. I'm Alexander Hamilton."

Eliza bobs her head, and they shake hands. She registers Alexander's touch upon her skin, and dwells upon the comforting firmness before replying. "I'm Eliza Schuyler. I forgot to ask for your name the other day—well, evening. It's a pleasure to be  introduced to you!"

"Indeed. I wasn't expecting to see you quite this soon, Eliza, but it's certainly a pleasure. Do you work here?" Alexander asks, glancing at the book bin and its contents.

"Yes. I'm the library's youth services specialist. My work is downstairs," she explains, gesturing to the door with both hands. Eliza thinks about the work awaiting her a staircase away, and the work right in front of her, awaiting Alexander's attention. She wonders if she should get going and bid her farewells, but Alexander straightens up, and Eliza knows he wants to say something.

Eliza expects a response, but Alexander instead begins to gather his papers into a neat pile. She takes it as her cue to leave, and reaches for the book bin, fingers curling around the handles. She's about to lift it up, but then the words come. "I'm an assistant professor of political economy, and I've been working on research for a publication here at your library. I've got to say I thought you were a professional photographer that night," he confesses, a sheepish look on his face.

Eliza freezes, arms tense as they keep the bin hoisted a fraction of an inch above the smooth surface of the table. Her eyes widen, and she says in shock, "Oh really? You did? Wow, that's such a compliment. Thank you so much!" She has never felt so light, so free, floating on the weightlessness that fills her, expanding into a soft, glowing happiness. Eliza's feet look like they stand on the carpet, but she doesn't feel it. Between the burgundy carpet and her feet, there is an imperceptible space keeping Eliza from being grounded. But no outsider would be able to see that.

"I'm sure you could be a professional," says Alexander, grinning at Eliza.

—

Friendship is a strange thing. Its presence isn't realized until after a bond has already formed, and little moments tie the two people together. The point at which a friendship begins isn't identifiable, because no one knows when it first became that way.

She'll treasure all these moments with Alexander. Eliza looks forward to work at the library each day. She has always; it was her dream job for years, and having it is the culmination of hope and hard work coming together. But Alexander gives her something—someone more to look forward to. And Alexander is the person walking with her now.

It had been his suggestion, actually. Eliza thinks back to two evenings ago, right after the library had closed. As they made their way up the stairs in comfortable silence, Alexander had said, "Walking always calms me down. You forget about everything, and you don't need to think about anything but the movement of your feet." Then, he had made the offer. "Wanna go on a walk with me sometime, 'Liza?" Alexander asked, bringing his left hand up to muss Eliza's neat hair.

Eliza had turned her head slowly toward Alexander, and widened her eyes comically for several seconds before returning her face to usual. Placing her hand on her chest, Eliza had exclaimed in mock indignation, "Alexander!" Then, she doubled over laughing, as an amused Alexander watched her from the foyer. Once Eliza had calmed down for the most part, she asked, "What did you do that for?"

As Eliza jumped up the last few stairs, Alexander brought his shoulders up and pulled his lips down. "I don't know," he had replied, palms up. "What did you do that for? This is why you should go on a walk with me. It would calm you down, silly."

"Hey!"

And Alexander had smiled at that, and Eliza felt her heart clench, though not in an uncomfortable way. Oh, he looked so... It lit his whole face up, with eyes crinkled at the edges, and he had looked at her with such sweetness. Eliza had wished she could remember that moment forever, the way Alexander looked. "You are silly, Eliza," Alexander had teased, but with affection in his voice.

Now, as Eliza contemplates the memory, with Alexander by her side, she doesn't mind having an imprecise recollection so much. She could only capture the feeling, but that is enough. Sometimes, beauty comes from within.

"What are you smiling at?" Alexander asks. Eliza doesn't hear him at first, absorbed as she is in memory, reliving the moments so precious to her. The gentle breeze blows at her black hair, as if nudging her to respond. It is a pleasant evening; they made sure to walk the less trafficked streets. The cool, crisp air envelopes Eliza as she realizes that Alexander said something.

"Just thinking about something that happened a few days ago," says Eliza, deciding to leave her answer vague. She feels so suddenly tired, the fog of exhaustion clouding her senses, her head feeling hazy. Eliza continues walking, but her feet move without any consciousness of her doing so. She looks down at them. How strange it is, that once again her feet do not anchor her, but carry her down an interminable path. Yeah, that summarizes life.

Alexander hums at that, leaving Eliza to her indistinct thoughts. They steal through her mind, and she reaches out for them, but too soon they are gone. Only one clear idea stays. The day at the library was exhausting. Working with the children is sometimes taxing, so much interaction and talking and focus. No, Eliza would not complain, but it can drain her. She's reached her word limit for the day; she is empty of things to say, all her words poured out. In the midst of a drought, Eliza doesn't want to talk right now.

And Alexander seems to understand that. So they walk, until he blurts out, "Have you ever done portrait photography?"

Portrait photography. Those two words make Eliza's mind heavy. "No, I've never been very interested in it." It's the truth. Eliza has always been one for scenery, landscapes, not photography of humans. They aren't her favorite subject to capture.

"Wou—would you ever consider it?" Eliza turns to Alexander, who looks...hopeful? She can't place why in her strange state, though. The connections in her mind move so slowly.

The cool air hits her head, and a shiver runs through her. As Eliza pulls a bunched-up hat out of her pocket, it's as if the fog around her is gone, chased away by the breeze. And everything is startlingly clear; the way a picture looks when its clarity is adjusted up. "You want me to take pictures of you, Alexander?" Eliza sighs. The words come out flatter than she intended. Immediately, Eliza realizes how irritated she must have sounded.

But Alexander is speaking already. "I'm sorry, Eliza. I don't mean to bother you at all. I shouldn't have pushed it." He looks down as he says this, and Eliza feels the guilt rise. It's a split second decision, and she decides to place her hand on his shoulder as reassurance. He's warm, but Eliza tries not to think about it too much.

"Don't worry, Alexander. I'm not upset. I'm just tired," she assures him, patting his shoulder before pulling her hand away. "And you know what? You're right that I should try it. I'll try it with you, if you'd like that." Why not? I'll give it a chance.

The city streets lead Alexander and Eliza back to Eliza's home, which sounds like a wonderful place to her right now. And as their legs move in tandem, leaving behind the messiness of too many people and places and things for each other's company, Alexander speaks. "That would be nice. Soon? I'm glad you're not mad at me," he adds with a nervous chuckle.

"Soon," Eliza repeats. "Good night, Alex."

"Good night, Eliza," Alexander says, and ruffles her hair before turning away. Eliza watches him go, feeling inexplicably sad as his figure grows smaller as he moves farther away. Ah, perspective is something so objective. Eliza reassures herself by reminding herself that Alexander is not nearly so far away when he is a friend in her heart. And after all, he has his own path to take, and that narrative cannot and will not always intertwine with hers.

—

Sunday morning comes, and Eliza waits for Alexander in the park, sitting on the bench with her equipment ready. She hopes she won't let him—or herself—down. It's not that important, she reminds herself. It's Alexander. It doesn't matter that much.

Oh, Eliza tells herself that, but if it's true, then why does she feel this way?

No, it's not nervousness, she decides. It's more of a subtle anxiety, a little voice asking and nagging her. Can you live up to these high expectations? Alexander's expecting something amazing. Don't let him down.

Eliza makes a point of ignoring it. She settles against the bench, leaning into its unyielding comfort. She closes her eyes, and sees nothing but the flickering pinpricks behind her eyelids. Still, she listens, hearing the footsteps of people walking by, their soft conversation drifting to her, indistinct like in a dream. She feels the soft warmth of the sun in the sky, bathing her in gentle morning light. She breathes in the fresh air, letting it flow into her, invigorating her, giving her beautiful life. Right now, Eliza lets herself simply exist.

She opens her eyes, and immediately they move down the sidewalk like they have a will of their own. And there Alexander is. He quickens his pace once he sees Eliza looking his way. "Good morning!" he calls. "I'm ready!" Alexander slows to a stop in front of Eliza, who stands up.

"You're probably more ready than I am," Eliza laughs. "I've never done portrait photography before." As Eliza waits for Alexander to catch his breath, she assesses his face in a way she's never done before. Knowing that as her subject today, she'll need to understand every contour, every aspect of Alexander. That's the best way to capture something beautiful.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll do wonderful." Standing toe-to-toe with Eliza, Alexander glances down, and puts his hand over hers. His touch is gentle, yet Eliza stiffens in surprise with a sharp intake of breath. She catches Alexander's eye, and stares at him for a few seconds, eyes wide. Her heart might as well burst right now—oh, oh, oh —and Eliza can't take it anymore; she looks away. Alexander lets go of her hand to run it through his hair, tied back today.

"All right, shall we begin?" Eliza asks, trying to fill the silence if anything.

"Let's begin!" Alexander answers, upbeat as always. Eliza thinks his passion is admirable. From learning to writing to hard work and to something like friendship... It's one of his best qualities.

She gestures to the bench, and has Alexander sit down. "Hmm...look like you're thinking about life. Contemplating life," instructs Eliza. Alexander complies, and soon the faraway look Eliza is so used to is in his eyes. It's the look in his eyes when he's immersed in concentration, and when Eliza can't begin to imagine what's going on inside. All she knows is that Alexander is creating and erasing complete worlds in his mind.

Eliza kneels in front of her tripod and camera, and shifts it to the right, so that it stands near the arm of the bench. Alexander angles his face towards her more, but he keeps the distant, thoughtful look. The shade from the trees around the bench puts half his face in shadow, while sunlight illuminates the half that's angled toward Eliza. A lock of hair escapes his ponytail, but Eliza doesn't disturb him. She begins taking pictures, using a low depth of field to focus on Alexander.

With satisfaction, Eliza notes the definite presence of implied lines. The edge of the bench, the sturdy tree trunk behind it, and the street that runs perpendicular to this bench all point to Alexander.

The shadows really bring out the angles of his face, Eliza thinks. Indeed, the shadows along the edge of Alexander's nose and playing over the curve of his cheek are ideal, to say the least. This isn't so bad after all.

Realizing that her thoughts distracted her, Eliza turns her attention back to Alexander. He hasn't moved, and he's still lost in a world of his own, but Eliza sees a smile spread across his face. It's the kind that's involuntary, and Eliza wishes she could know what's making Alexander look so happy.

Well, Eliza can't see from Alexander's perspective, but she can see what's going on from her own. So she lifts her tripod, and moves it so it faces Alexander more directly. This time, Alexander doesn't even notice. Perfect. The clicks of the shutter go off, and the images appear on Eliza's camera screen. She imagines for a moment that she's an outsider, that Alexander is a stranger to her. How would she see him?

She would be curious, for sure. He looks so serene, yet filled with a calm joy. A smile tugs at the edges of his lips, and Eliza wonders if he's looking at something beautiful far off in the distance, far off in his mind's eye. The soft colors of the fading green grass of autumn, and the few leaves, pale orange, give her a sense of an unusually idyllic day. Looking at her images, Eliza can almost feel the sunlight that she sees filtering down.

That thought pulls her out of pretend, and Eliza comes face-to-face with reality. Yes, she can indeed feel the sunlight. It warms her hair, and permeates through her lilac cardigan.

"You done?" Alexander stands up, slapping his legs twice. Eliza tells him yes, and Alexander rolls, then straightens his shoulders. The action pulls at his navy blue jacket, and as if he sees Eliza looking at it, Alexander unzips the jacket. Eliza nods, approving of the now loose fabric at the angles of his inner arms.

They decide on some more poses. They include one with Alexander about to walk down the sidewalk, but his head turned back toward Eliza like it's a fleeting afterthought, gone as soon as the deed's done. Another has him standing on the edge of the fountain at the center of the park. The wind blows at his loose hair, the rich brown color illuminated as Alexander stands closer to the sun and its rays. He appears almost too close to the streams of water, one hand outstretched to touch the brilliant sprays of liquid light. With his jacket billowing out behind him, Alexander looks as if he's enjoying the moment, the photoshoot.

Well, Eliza certainly hopes he does.

When Alexander hops down and glances at his watch, saying that's it's almost noon, Eliza knows they need to wrap it up. "One more!" she decides. "We'll finish up soon, Alexander." He moves to stand next to Eliza by the fountain. Alexander sighs, a soft breath of air that  brushes the atmosphere around them. Eliza feels it upon her skin, and doesn't comment on it, but savors the way it seems to linger, like it doesn't want to leave her. Was that intentional? And no, she doesn't want it to leave her either, the tingle of anticipation. Something is coming.

"Let's go over there," Alexander says, nudging Eliza. He points to their left, at the line of callery pear trees along the edge of the park walkways. Their bright red leaves call to Eliza, and she nods.

"Good idea!"

The last shots of the day. By now, Alexander knows what to do, how to look. So Eliza lets him decide, and watches as he settles with craning his neck up to admire the rich, blazing red, a color rarely seen so often except in autumn. "Smile," Eliza says impulsively, and Alexander looks at her.

And that's the moment Eliza realizes. It hits her right in the heart, and she feels as if it's crumbled, leaving an empty space inside her. For she has never felt like this, had this space filling back up again with something...stunned. Eliza can't contain it, the feeling breaking free, opening her heart, making her weightless.

Oh, look at those eyes. Warm brown, deep in their color, and there is so much more behind them. Something in those eyes, something that holds a soul unlike any other. Mysterious, bright, beautiful.

Alexander continues looking at Eliza, but he doesn't smile. Then Eliza sees it spread across his face, and that smile is one she'll never get tired of. She smiles back, and says, "Yup, that's good. You ready?"

"Of course I am, Eliza," he says easily. "I'll be ready for anything you throw at me." And somehow, Eliza gets the impression that Alexander is talking about more than just this, today. This is one page of the story, and there is so much more to this world around them, the world they live in.

So Eliza gets ready, but her finger hesitates when it's time. Alexander still stands below the callery pear tree, bursting with color, and there's still a smile on his face. His eyes are still so beautiful. Come on, why are you so reluctant now? She moves closer to Alexander, and admires his figure. Eliza looks at his hand resting on the trunk of the tree, fingers curled ever so slightly around its curve. Alexander stands straight with his shoulders back, and his navy blue jacket loose. Eliza's eyes trace down the highlights of his brown hair. And she looks at the detail of the wrinkles and folds of his jacket, the way light and shadow come together.

Alexander looks up at the red leaves with an expression of wonder, and for a moment, Eliza thinks she knows exactly what is going on inside his mind. A moment of clarity. And all of a sudden, a certain, steely determination rises inside of Eliza, and she's done waiting.

Just take a shot.

The camera makes its familiar click, and Eliza makes it happen again and again, till she gets something right. She's going to create something beautiful out of this narrative, and nothing is going to stop her. It's already beautiful, but Eliza needs to capture it properly, make it what she wants it to be.

And when Eliza leaves with Alexander, her feet falling in step with his, she tells him that somehow, she's much happier with this narrative than the one from when they first met.

—

Eliza's legs dangle from her window seat as she sips warm soy milk. As she absentmindedly stares into it, she notices the way the leftover steam rises from her mug. The wisps are insubstantial, but lovely. Nothing lasts, does it? Everything is so ephemeral.

That thought rouses Eliza. She stands up, leaving behind the comfort that her small window seat offers her, the soft pillows and street view. Eliza picks up her phone from the gray coffee table, and cleans up the area around it. She puts some of her books in neat stacks on the coffee table, and others in its various drawers.

Eliza dials a number, relying on habit and muscle memory for the most part. She moves back to the window seat, curling her legs up under her as she leans back against the pillows. Pressing her forehead to the cold window, Eliza surveys the street through a lens of foggy condensation.

He picks up after the third ring. "Eliza!" Alexander sounds surprised, but Eliza can hear the happiness in his bright tone. The feeling washes over her, and settles in her heart, where it fits quite nicely. As it floats to the top of Eliza's heart, where hope and dreams reside, she can almost imagine that Alexander's sitting with her.

"Yeah. It's me. How's it going?"

There's silence, then a sharp exhale. "I've been doing well. I'm just disappointed that there is so much snow! I was looking forward to going out and practicing, but of course today has to be the day in which everything's covered in that white powder." Alexander sighs again, and Eliza holds back a laugh.

She moves under her soft, wool blanket, and as she covers herself up to the shoulder, Eliza retorts, "You are too dramatic, Alexander. Such a snow hater. I'm sure you could still go out and shoot." Eliza glances out the window again regardless. She assesses the elegant layer of snow covering the street, and the soft hats that winter gave to the street lamps.

The response is immediate. "I don't want to shoot snow, Eliza. Anything but snow, I am telling you." Eliza laughs out loud now at Alexander's vehement, almost pleading tone. It's comical, and Eliza can picture his vigorous hand movements and frantic head-shaking. Ah, Alexander. The laughing warms Eliza, making the atmosphere around her more cozy, enveloping her in soft comfort. It's like a gentle hug, the feeling of knowing someone's there for you.

An idea rises to the consciousness of Eliza's mind. At first, she dismisses it, and it dissolves into nothingness, retreats into the void where thoughts emerge from. Then she pulls it to the surface once more, and before rationality kicks in, Eliza's mouth is open. "Then why don't we go to the butterfly conservatory? At the American Museum of Natural History, of course." She cuts herself off as quickly as she had started. Well, all that's left to do now is await Alexander's response.

Silence. Eliza's anxiety grows as she hears nothing, not even the sound of breaths brushing the air. The cozy feeling is gone as the worry increases, spreading through Eliza's body. That was a mistake. She shouldn't have said that, now Alexander's upset and he's likely taking it the wrong way and he's going to hang up and their friendship will end—

"Hm? What did you say?"

Oh, thank goodness. Eliza's worry recedes, and she slumps down, letting her forehead thunk into the window. "I said that we could go to the butterfly conservatory. We could learn about butterflies, and take pictures together." She chooses her words carefully, making sure to keep her tone causal. Eliza is still on edge, but she waits with less anxiety this time.

"As friends?" Alexander asks. As hard as she tries, Eliza can't tell what Alexander is thinking. His tone reveals nothing; through her own eyes—well, ears—they are just two words. Two words that don't have any meaning behind them besides the question they hold.

So Eliza finds herself saying to him, "Yes, as friends." But the words leave her mouth reluctantly; for some reason Eliza doesn't want to say that. She doesn't dwell upon it, though.

"All right! I'm looking forward to the trip, Eliza," Alexander replies. Yet Eliza finds a frown pulling her face down. She's not upset. There's nothing wrong. Eliza has what she wants.

Then why does she feel so...disappointed?

Eliza musters up a smile, and this is the first time it's halfhearted since she began her friendship with Alexander. "Okay. I am too." It's not a lie, but she was hoping for something more. The desire comes from somewhere deep inside of Eliza, a hidden corner tucked away in her heart. And as they make their plans, Eliza does her best to keep those feelings hidden. After all, they aren't always beautiful.

—

One week later. They fill Alexander's car with endless chatter, and an air of excitement. Eliza is happy, for sure, but still disappointed. She doesn't think about why; she avoids the subject with care. Because she has Alexander, wonderful Alexander and his friendship, and that is enough. As they talk and talk, Eliza almost forgets about it all. Almost.

The first thing that strikes Eliza is the heat. It doesn't feel like winter anymore, no. Especially not with the large, black lamps dangling from the ceiling, radiating light like the tropical sun. There is green, leafy foliage everywhere Eliza looks, their highlights brought out by the lamplight. There are flowers too, and Eliza kneels to look at a magenta cluster. The star-shaped blossoms are small, each of their five petals edged with white. Nestled in the center of the flowers are round, white dots, as if a painter had used the blossoms as a palette for creating nature.

Most of all, there are butterflies everywhere. They flutter their wings all around, flitting through the air and flocking together under the cylindrical lamps. Eliza catches glimpses of their wings, colorful but fleeting. She has entered another world, fabricated from someone's vision. And it's admirable, that one could create something beautiful for others to see, feel, experience, from their own mind.

"This is so cool," Alexander gushes to Eliza. "Look around! It's like we're in a rain forest for a day. We should go over there first!" Before Eliza can answer, Alexander's already off, rushing in the direction of  a small, transparent disk hanging down from the ceiling. Eliza shrugs to herself, and follows him.

By the time she reaches it, Alexander's nose is almost touching the edge of the feeding dish as he intensely watches the butterfly upon it. "You don't need to get so close," says Eliza, and he glances towards her with those eyes that nobody could resist. Eliza forgets what she was going to say in response, and gazes back at Alexander, trying to look through his deep, shining eyes.

She moves closer as well. Upon the feeding dish is a butterfly with yellow wings; they flutter gently as it feeds on whatever food is there. Eliza admires the detail she sees, the fragility of the veins running through the butterfly and the wings' translucence. Next to her, Alexander raises his camera. He leans forward gingerly, and Eliza watches as his finger is about to press down on the shutter button. But he gets too close, and the butterfly flutters away. "Aww."

"Hey, it's all right, Alexander," Eliza assures him. "There are lots of butterflies here. You'll get a picture."

"I know," he says, seeming disappointed, eyes downcast and lips forming what is the beginning of a pout. Then, a slow smile spread across Alexander's face, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He puts his left arm around Eliza's waist, and she is about to step back in surprise when Alexander speaks. "But thank you for being so kind as to reassure me. I'm honored to have the pleasure of someone as lovely as you, accompanying me here, 'Liza."

Eliza's eyes widen, and she stares at Alexander, some part of her anticipating something spiteful, a malicious laugh at her for daring to hope. But as she looks into Alexander's eyes, she knows he is not that kind of person. Alexander means everything he says. He is real, he is earnest, and he always, always speaks his mind. She knows that well, by now.

"Thank you so much, Alexander." Eliza's words are just above a whisper. Alexander nods once, and maybe Eliza sees something different in his eyes now. But she can't place what it is.

Alexander lets go of her slowly, and Eliza can't help but miss feeling connected to him.

They continue looking around, observing the butterflies as they land on the tropical plants. Alexander learns from his mistake, and doesn't lean too close now. He does get several nice shots, and Eliza makes sure to give him her feedback and approval. Close-up nature shoots are excellent opportunities to use a low depth of field to focus on the details, and Eliza takes advantage of that. So does Alexander, as Eliza helps him practice.

"Over there!" Eliza points at the edge of the mass of green plants that they stand before. A tiger longwing perches on a narrow leaf, still and regal despite its small size. "That one's pretty. But I don't know its name." Eliza gets her camera ready, zooming in as close as she can. The burnt orange of its wings, the black stripes, and the large ivory spots near the top contrast with the rich green of the leaf. The butterfly appears sharp and in focus in Eliza's image, while the background is distant, composed of indistinct shapes. "There we go," she murmurs to herself, satisfied.

"You don't know its name? That's a tiger longwing, Eliza. Didn't you watch the video?" Alexander snaps some pictures of his own, and raises his eyebrows at Eliza as he waits for a response.

Eliza snorts. "No. Why would I?"

"To educate yourself on butterflies, of course." Alexander stands up, surveying the images on his camera. Eliza had given it to him as a gift, after he'd expressed interest in taking up photography. She was willing to part with one of her older cameras, if it meant spreading an unique perspective on the world to someone she—

So they decide to take a break from taking pictures, and head towards the educational displays on the walls. It's nearing four o'clock, and the amount of people in the butterfly conservatory has decreased, much to Eliza's relief. Alexander and Eliza are able to walk without having to squeeze past clumps of people. As the displays come into sight, Eliza feels a tickle on her shoulder.

"Oh!" She turns her head to see an azure butterfly sitting on her shoulder. Alexander stops in confusion, then excitement.

He captures the moment, Eliza fearing that the blue morpho butterfly will be gone all too soon. But despite the nature of butterflies, this one stays. Its iridescent, delicate wings shine as they flap, the warm light playing over the angles of its wings. Even as Alexander finishes his pictures and as Eliza walks on, it stays. And Eliza is very much grateful.

Alexander and Eliza look at all the displays, reading the words and absorbing the knowledge they can. Because in Alexander's words, they "didn't come here to be butterfly-ignorant beasts." At one point, Eliza catches Alexander taking a picture of her as she reads. She ignores him as she finishes reading a paragraph about a butterfly's pupal stage. When Eliza does look at Alexander, she sees a guilty expression on his face. Caught in the act, he lowers the camera.

But Eliza isn't upset. "I thought you came here to take pictures of butterflies, not of me." She stretches her arms over her head, and holds back a yawn behind a hand. Eliza decides that it's about time to depart this world within their own, but she wants to know what Alexander will say first.

He seems to hesitate, like he wants to keep his thoughts and words to himself. And Eliza understands that. Alexander stands beside her, chest rising and falling with each breath he takes. Finally, his lips part.

"Well...maybe you're my favorite subject to capture." A pink blush rises on his cheeks, yet Alexander refuses to look away.

Eliza feels her face warm up, and she smiles. Alexander looks relieved, letting go of an almost inaudible sigh, and Eliza does the same internally. "That may be."

When they drive away from the museum, Alexander and Eliza are silent. The sky is dark, throwing the world under a blanket of shadows. When it covers the city like this, it seems so peaceful. It lulls Eliza into a strange state, and she feels not quite present in this situation; she exists, but only one part of her is conscious. The rest has vanished, leaving behind an unbreakable calm.

Eliza watches the headlights of cars as they approach, two bright dots that shine light that slides across the inside wall of Alexander's car. She watches it over and over again, mesmerized by the way it moves.

When they reach a stoplight, Eliza's attention moves to the reflections instead. Here, the road is wet from melted snow, allowing the water to hold colors. She stares at the shining red on the gritty, rough surface of asphalt. It's a simple beauty, and Eliza reaches for her camera.

Then the light turns green, and Alexander drives past it. Too late, though Eliza doesn't mind. She has Alexander beside her, and nothing could be more beautiful than that. 

— 

Eliza holds the gift in her hands, and shakes it, wondering what it could be. It may not be a wise idea, but she doesn't care. There is no sound, and she looks at it, at the delicate snowflakes on the pastel blue wrapping paper. A silver ribbon, tied into a neat bow tops off the small present.

It would be a shame to ruin it. Eliza unties the bow, pulling the ribbon apart and putting it on her bedroom desk. She turns the gift over to find the tape, and picks at its corner with her nail. She is careful, and with painstaking slowness, Eliza unfolds the wrapping paper, revealing a white box. Jewelry?

Eliza pries off the lid, setting that on her desk as well. She peers inside to see a locket. It's gorgeous, golden, heart-shaped with dusky blue floral etchings upon it. A small golden butterfly perches on the heart at an angle, and Eliza admires it. She's never seen a locket like this, so fine and detailed down to the veins of the butterfly.

She touches it, feeling the cool brass and its etchings. With utmost care, Eliza removes it from the box, and holds it in her palm. A thought strikes her, and she opens the heart. Indeed, there is something inside. Eliza plucks the folded slip of paper out of the locket, and begins reading.

Dearest Eliza,

I wanted to thank you for inviting me to the butterfly conservatory along with you. I enjoyed my time there, and your company brought me the greatest of joys.

Consider this your early gift for Christmas. I give this to you, Eliza, because you are beautiful and deserve to have beauty with you wherever you go.

Signed,
Alexander

She reads the words over and over again, emblazoning them into her mind. Eliza's eyes follow the loops of Alexander's cursive. She traces along every line, trying to imagine what he was thinking as he wrote this, how he wrote this. I give this to you, Eliza, because you are beautiful. Eliza looks at the sentence again with affection, heart filling with elated happiness.

As she tucks the note back inside the locket, and the locket back inside the box, Eliza ponders. She wonders if there is an ulterior meaning. It's at times like this that Eliza wishes she could see from someone else's perspective.

—

Life does not change after this. Everything stays the same; Eliza's job at the library, the constant presence of snow, and Alexander's friendship. But now more than ever, Eliza finds herself longing for something more.

More. What does she want? As Eliza makes her way through the December days, she searches herself, and finds nothing. Yet a feeling tells her that she already knows; has known for so so long and done nothing about it. That is why Eliza can't figure it out.

Until one night, as Eliza lies under her soft comforter, providing warmth to her as always, reliable as it is. She rolls onto her side, and touches the cold wall. Eliza puts her palm flat on it, the chilly feeling enough to rouse her from doziness. It brings a memory to mind: Alexander standing under the crimson leaves, palm flat on the tree trunk, like what Eliza is doing right now.

Oh, Alexander. Eliza realizes she has been thinking about him more and more often. What he is doing, how he is feeling, and most of all, his sweetness and that smile. Alexander, as a complete being, is so full of life. The way he lights up when talking about a topic he loves, his emotions everywhere, brilliant, one of a kind. His raw ambition, wanting, needing more from himself, from this life. How he cares for his loved ones so deeply; how he would do anything to stay by their side.

And how Eliza feels with him. Alexander is unlike anyone else; there is something special between them. She feels so right with him. There is no other way to put it. They have created a bond, strong, close, comfortable.

Could it be...?

Love. Eliza sits up, the thought exploding in her mind because it's a sudden epiphany. Love. Love. Love. It bounces around inside her, and Eliza gets the same feeling she feels when with Alexander. It's soft and secure, an uplifting, constant happiness. Because Eliza has let him inside her heart.

But does Alexander feel the same way?

Eliza runs through her precious memories, remembering the way Alexander acted towards her. The conversations, the laughter, the smiles, and most of all, the way he looks at her. It seems so clear now, yet somehow, Eliza couldn't, no, didn't want to see it before. What was she so afraid of? Why didn't she see it?

It's interesting, how much changes when one changes their perspective. It was there all along. So now, what's left to do? Eliza knows. She sits back, and sighs with the weight of months of hidden hope and secret longing. Just take a shot, Eliza. The time is ripe. Because now that Eliza has looked at her narrative from another angle, she can change it by taking a shot.

—

She doesn't prepare for it too much. Eliza is at peace, knowing what she knows. She decides to bring it up on a Thursday, the afternoon that she somehow convinces Alexander to get away from writing. They sit in Eliza's office, making name tags and cutting out shapes from construction paper. This is preparation for tomorrow's session with the preschoolers.

Eliza glances at Alexander's pile of white circles, orange triangles, and brown stick arms. He's tracing on the last piece of orange construction paper, and Eliza knows that now is the time.

Her heartbeat quickens, and Eliza leans forward. Keeping her voice casual, she says, "Hey, Alexander."

His pencil stops moving, and he looks up at Eliza. "Yes?" Eliza says nothing, focusing on her breaths, which are shallow, and the feeling of her pounding heart. She forgets what she was going to say, overcome by apprehension, clouding her mind, fogging up her thoughts. Eliza's chest tightens, tense. She's lost in an atmosphere of nervousness, making everything around her obscure because the feeling is too real. Yet Eliza is so aware of every movement she makes, from the flutter of her eyelashes to the almost imperceptible shift of her fingertips on the table.

Alexander waits. And Eliza searches within, finding her heart. She focuses on the steady pounding, keeping her alive. It's been waiting for this moment for so long, patient and understanding of her hesitation. Her heart was already open to Alexander. Now, it's time to fulfill that desire.

Eliza feels calm. The apprehension recedes, leaving her mind clear. "I was wondering if you would want to go to the bookstore and get hot chocolate with me tomorrow."

He looks startled, eyebrows raising in a quick movement. Alexander puts down his pencil, and states, "As friends."

Her heart keeps beating, the presence of the comforting, constant thud encouraging her, pushing her on. Eliza rolls her chair closer to Alexander, until she can put his hand over his. Her hand closes over his, and Alexander doesn't resist it. "No," she breathes. "As something more."

And as Eliza looks at Alexander's face, she sees the understanding. Then joy, as his eyes become brighter, their depths no longer indecipherable. For they are both enlightened to each other, new beings given a chance for something greater than what they are. And who wouldn't take that? "Of course, Eliza. Of course! I've been hoping you'd say that for months. Months, Eliza. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved having your friendship, but I always knew that we could be more than that. It was just a matter of what you wanted, because from the start I would ha—"

Eliza smiles at Alexander affectionately. "I know. I was hopeful too, but afraid. But we got here, and we're only going forward from now on."

—

Sitting at a round table in the corner of the bookstore with Alexander, sipping hot chocolate and talking, there is no place Eliza would rather be. The colorful lights strung around the doorway, and the jars of pretty ornaments all around raise Eliza's spirits. The warm lighting, the heat of the hot chocolate reaching her hands through the cup, and most of all, Alexander's presence make Eliza feel at home.

She leans forward. "So, Alexander, what are your hobbies?" Eliza questions in an over-exaggerated tone, pretending she is a stranger.

Alexander rolls his eyes. "Writing, debating, and spending time with you, of course."

"Why, thank you," Eliza answers, pretending she's flattered. But in truth, she is. She closes her hand around the locket that hangs from her neck. She feels the tiny grooves of its etchings, carved into the heart by someone who saw the potential. And it's Eliza's heart now, and she can do what she wants with it. Perhaps she will put pictures into it sometime, or some special trinket. It's hers, and she will make it what she wants it to be. But for now, having this heart from Alexander is enough.

She opens it, and removes the note. Eliza unfolds it, and flattens it out on the little table for two. "What were you thinking when you wrote this?" Alexander glances down at it as he drains his cup, gaining a milk mustache as he does so. Eliza giggles at it, and reaches over to wipe it off with a napkin. Alexander smiles sheepishly, and nods his thanks, then begins talking.

"Well, you see, on the surface level, I wanted to do exactly what I said it was for: thank you for accompanying me to the conservatory. But on a deeper level, I was trying to win your love," he confesses, looking at Eliza with complete sincerity. And she believes him.

Eliza finishes her hot chocolate, and together, they venture deeper into the bookstore. It is an adventure, row after row of tall bookshelves, taller than both of them. The shelves gleam brown, and there are so many books. Books of all kinds, small books, encyclopedias, everything. It is a book lover's paradise, so much possibility at every turn. Eliza could never enter the worlds of all the books, but she at least wants to peek into some of them.

"I want to be a famous writer someday," Alexander declares at they stare at a display of books by one certain author. He looks at Eliza with that face, the one with burning hunger set in every plane, every line. "Imagine. Everyone knowing your name, reading your thoughts and ideas and admiring you for them. They would never forget you. You'd always live on if your words remained." Alexander turns to Eliza, a sudden uncertainty in his eyes. It is a silent question, and Eliza answers it by simply looking back at him. The question is do you understand what I am trying to say?

And the answer, of course, is yes. Eliza loops her arm around Alexander's, the crooks of their elbows fitting together because they're meant to be. She squeezes Alexander's hand, and tells him, "I believe in you, Alexander. But in my eyes, you're already someone significant. You're important. You matter, and I know you'll prove it to them. You proved that to me a long time ago."

He looks at her gratefully, needing nothing more said.

Eliza relishes being so close to Alexander. Before, there was an invisible barrier between them, thinner than air, a line of tension that neither of them dared to cross. Now, they have let go, and they are free. The air is easier to move in, flowing and bending around them, allowing them to do what they have wanted. They are at ease, and a serene, glowing joy fills the atmosphere around them. It couldn't be better.

Before they leave, Eliza insists on a taking a picture together. So Alexander pulls out his phone, and snaps a photo of them, radiating bliss from the simple joy of just being in each other's presence. The scenery is nothing special; only the brown brick wall and half of the bookstore window. But they don't need anything more, because to capture the feeling is enough.

But the image doesn't capture the whole story, does it?

It is only one moment, after all. There is so much more behind the image that no one else will see, that Alexander and Eliza will always have to themselves.

When they kiss goodbye, there is nothing bittersweet about it. It is soft and sweet, full of gentle, unfathomable love. For it comes from the very deepest part of their hearts, where they feel emotions as something whole and complete. And both Alexander and Eliza know they'll see each other again and again.

—

Eliza is a lucky woman. She looks at the photos she had framed for her anniversary with Alexander, standing, shining on the bookshelf.

They are beautiful pictures. There is no other way to describe them, she thinks. The first one is of Alexander from that day in the park, after Eliza had realized for the first time that he is beautiful. He stands, admiring the leaves, and Eliza now knows that Alexander had been pretending he was looking at her instead. A faint smile crosses her face at the memory, bringing with it a wave of nostalgia for those early days.

The second is of Eliza herself, smiling happily with an azure butterfly on her shoulder. With her hair pushed back behind her shoulders, her face shines; round, pink cheeks glowing. Looking at it now, Eliza can feel the summer heat and otherworldly atmosphere all over again. They never returned, no; Alexander and Eliza wanted to keep that a singular, special memory.

And the third? It's the one from their first official date, when they both understood what potential they had together. Their smiles are bright, and they look like they couldn't be happier. Even now, that feeling Eliza gets when with Alexander has not changed one bit.

Three moments in their lives. And Eliza knows she'll continue to treasure these moments, captured forever through the camera lens.

Looking back, she couldn't be more grateful that their narratives collided.