Remi! (taniel’s sweetheart)

You met at his aunt Rose’s shop. As a self-proclaimed thriftaholic, it felt fitting that the first place you visited after moving to Derry was an antique store.

It was spring, 1951. The air was warm, and you’d arrived during the only time of year the town looked halfway decent. Kids played football around the square, snot running down their noses as they yelled profanities. Couples strolled with their arms intertwined, whispering pet names and giggling. Somewhere in the air lingered the faint smell of smoke mixed with something sweet and floral.

You and your parents had moved to Derry for work—something you didn’t quite understand, considering it was a one-horse town, but nonetheless.

Curious to explore, you wandered into the shop, fidgeting with the red ribbon tied around your curly hair. You’d braided it yourself, and it showed. You browsed through dressers and nightstands until your eyes landed on a boy sitting behind the counter.

Taniel.

He looked about your age, maybe a year older—though that might’ve just been his serious expression. He hadn’t noticed you at all, completely absorbed in a comic book.

It wasn’t until Rose greeted you and casually mentioned that the serious-looking boy was her nephew—and that you’d likely be in the same grade—that he finally lifted his head.

He stared. —he’d never seen you there before—

It startled you a little. His eyes were curious, something bright flickering across his face before settling back into his usual somber look. He stood up quickly, and that’s when you realized he was surprisingly tall. Without hesitation, he met your gaze and blurted out, “I’m Taniel, and you’re pretty—”

He froze, suddenly aware of what he’d said.

“—but you don’t know how to braid your hair.”

The words sank in. Your face puckered into a pout.

Only then did he realize how rude he sounded. Panic set in as he glanced toward his aunt for help—though she was barely holding back laughter. Turning away so he wouldn’t have to look you in the eye, he stumbled with his words, “I could help you learn how to braid… if you want.”

If you’d seen his face, you would’ve noticed how flushed he was. But all you saw was his back, and you assumed he was just trying to apologize.

You walked closer and tapped his shoulder.

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

When he turned around, he noticed how close you were. How sweet your eyes looked up close. He shyly reintroduced himself, his serious façade melting into a small, bashful smile. You laughed, charmed by the sudden change.

You told him your name—and then said something that made his ears burn.

“I think you’re really pretty too,” you said brightly. “I’ve never seen a boy with such long hair. It looks really soft.”

From that day on, you were inseparable.

Years later, you both still laughed whenever Rose retold the story of how you met. It never got old—especially since Taniel still grew jittery and embarrassed whenever she mentioned why he had to turn around.

You spent most of your free time at Taniel’s place. Sometimes you read while he fixed his guitar. Sometimes he played your favorite songs while you hummed along. He listened patiently as you gossiped about your ignorant classmates. You went to the lake in the summer to bask in the sun. And on colder nights—when it was too late to go home, even though he could’ve driven you—he insisted you stay.

You slow-danced in the quiet hours of the night to your Joe Stafford vinyl, a gift he’d gotten for your eighteenth birthday. Later, you’d fall asleep cuddled together on the couch. According to Taniel, he slept better with you near him.

You never questioned any of it. It all fit so easily into your life.

You didn’t notice that you were one of the only people he let hug him. Or how he always found an excuse to keep you close, even for a moment. Or how irritated he became whenever you mentioned another boy asking you out—especially when you giggled about how everyone assumed you were dating Taniel.

It all seemed unconnected to you.

Until the night you tried to paint your nails.

You sat at his desk, hands trembling as you attempted to use the inconveniently small brush. That’s when he spoke.

“Do you need some assistance, princess?”

His voice was soft, as it always was with you. It caught you off guard.

Why would he know anything about nail polish? You’d never seen him wear it. Frustration bubbled over.

“Are you telling me you know something about nail polish?” you snapped, not realizing how harsh you sounded. “I’ve never even seen you use it—not once!”

You were ready to keep going, until you saw his expression.

That one.

The one he only wore when it was just the two of you. Like a kicked puppy. Your chest tightened.

“Oh gosh, I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart,” you blurted, the pet name slipping out. “I didn’t mean to be mean. I’m just frustrated.”

You closed the bottle and stepped closer. “Can you… really help me?”

You held your hand out to him.

He melted at the gesture, eyes closing briefly. He gently took your hand and lifted it to eye level.

“I practiced on my aunt’s hands,” he admitted quietly. “A lot, actually.”

He thought back to the night he’d finally asked Rose to teach him. She’d questioned him at first—until he mentioned your name. Then it all made sense. They’d practiced for hours until he could do it without making a mess.

He guided you back to the desk, pulling up a chair to sit across from you.

“It’s no big deal,” he murmured. “I know how shaky you get with small things.”

When he finished your right hand, something shifted. Years of shared glances and quiet moments gave him the courage he’d been searching for.

“I…” He closed the bottle. “I wanted to tell you something.”

The silence stretched.

“Do you remember the first thing I said to you when we met?”

You smiled. “Of course. Am I not pretty anymore?”

You teased

He smiled softly. “Of course you are. It’s just… now I know that pretty falls short.”

Your heart raced.

“I think the right word is ethereal.”

Your face burned.

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you,” he continued, voice shaking. “And I know you might not feel the same, but—”

You stood abruptly.

His heart sank. “Do you want me to drive you home?  I will if you want to leave”

Instead, you cupped his face and kissed him.

It was shy at first. Exploratory. Then he melted into it, heart pounding like it might burst. When you pulled away, he felt breathless.

“Does that make it clear how I feel about you?” you asked.

He nodded, unable to speak.

He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground and spinning you until you laughed. You both tumbled onto his bed, still giggling.

Looking at him now, you couldn’t believe you hadn’t noticed before.

“I feel so silly,” you admitted softly. “For not seeing this.”

You kissed him again—slower this time. Comfortable. Real. His hands settled at your waist, a smile pressing into your lips.

When you pulled back, he was grinning, the kind of smile that could light up a room.

“So…” you asked shyly, “does this mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He laughed softly. “I wanted to ask you properly. But who am I to say no to such a pretty lady?”