Familiar Stranger

It's only been a month since our collaboration began. Still somehow, somewhere about him feels familiar to me. The sensation is unsettling yet intriguing. It's as if we've shared a lifetime of memories. Whenever I come into contact with his deep blue eyes i feel a strange yet familiar connection .I feel like I've drowned in those eyes before like I've known their depths intimately, the connection is strange yet comforting .It's as if my soul recognizes his .The feeling is both exhilarating and terrifying leaving me wondering if I've truly known him before.

Ansel Hendricks, the renowned model, stood poised on the runway,

As I fidgeted with my notes, my mind racing with last minute adjustments, my eyes drifted to the familiar curve of his back. Suddenly,

I had a glimpse of my past life memories.

The sound of the camera's clicking,the smell of hairsprays,the busy people backstage running up and down getting ready for the next collection, all mixed with my memories. I was having trouble figuring out what to do next.

He came up to me.

"Are you ok", he asked with his deep,comforting voice it was low and soft, it was as if a warm blanket was wrapped around me, calming my nerves.

As I look up I met his piercing blue eyes, partially framed by a stray lock of his black hair that fell across his forehead.

But what really caught my attention was the small,faint scar above his left eyebrow, partially hidden by the stray lock of hair. That small, faint scar was like a key that unlocked a floodgate of memories, transporting me back to a past where our lives had intersected in ways i thought were long forgotten.

He was the boy i grew up with, a familiar face that held a thousand memories and secrets.

"Pierce, come!"

Ansel's voice called out from the window. I looked out to see his bright,smiling face radiating excitement for our next adventure. I hurried downstairs, And we slipped out into the garden, a lush, forest-like oasis nestled behind my house.

"Want to explore?"

Ansel asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

As we made our way deeper into the forest-like garden, the trees seemed to close in around us, casting long, ominous shadows on the ground. Ansel, ever the adventurer, led the way, his eyes scanning the underbrush for any sign of excitement.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks,his gaze fixed on a large ancient looking tree.

"Pierce, look", he whispered, his voice trembling with anticipation.

I followed his gaze, and my heart skipped a beat as i saw what he had spotted- an old, rickety treehouse, perched high above the ground. Without hesitation Ansel began to climb the tree, his hand and feet finding holds in the gnarled bark. I followed close behind.

As we reached the treehouse, Ansel pushed open the creaky door open and gestured for me to enter. But as i stepped inside, the wooden floorboards gave way beneath me, sending me tumbling to the ground.

Ansel rushed down to my side, helping me to my feet.

But as he did, I saw a jagged piece of wood protruding from the floorboards, and Ansel's face went white as he stumbled backwards, clutching his forehead

I gasped in horror as I saw the blood begin to flow, streaming down his face like a crimson river.

I was paralyzed with fear, forgetting what to do next. But then I heard Ansel's weak voice calling out, "Pierce, I'm okay". Tears of relief streamed down my cheeks as I rushed to get help.

Luckily, we got him to the hospital quickly. After a thorough checkup, the doctors assured us that Ansel would be fine. As for me i wasn't so lucky _ i ended up with a sprained leg and a stern scolding from my parents. I knew Ansel would get one too. After all, we were in this mess together!

We both got grounded for an awful long time after what happened.

"As the grounding finally lifted, Ansel spends most of the time at my house.I have to admit, having Ansel around the house all the time wasn't so bad.

In fact, it was kind of nice.

I'd spend hours talking about my designs, sharing my sketches and ideas with him. He'd listen intently, a smile on his face, as I went on and on about fabrics, textures, and colors.

I know I can get carried away sometimes, but Ansel never seemed to mind. He'd just sit there, looking all interested and adorable.

My parents are against my idea of being a fashion designer, "I confided in Ansel"

He gave me a knowing look, as if to say,'I know that alone won't stop you from doing what you love'.His unwavering confidence in me was infectious, and I felt a surge of determination. 'I'll be a model,' he promised,'and you must be a fashion designer

That was the last conversation I had with him.

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