📷 by @anniespratt.

The two of us sat in those airport seats wrapped in scarves and winter threads. A return flight to Perth awaited you and a weekend escape to Sydney was ready for my carry-on luggage. This unspoken silence chilled our spines. The uncertainty of what existed beyond our four days of intertwined romance chattered against our tongues like pop rock candy. My boarding call broke our pierced-eye foreplay. My hands trembled against your shoulder blades as the fear of this possibly being the last time I held you in my arms suffocated my thoughts. You pecked me on the cheek; I kissed your lips. Surrounded by masculine men and middle-class families in that departure lounge, nothing existed at that moment but the phantom pain of saying goodbye to you.

That Garden State airport-closing scene still haunts me now. I recall stepping downwards onto that escalator and looking back to see you just standing there looking so broodingly handsome. This longing overcame me. This impulse to make some grand romantic cinematic statement. Something that would ensure you became mine and mine alone, but I couldn’t do it.

An hour later, as I exited those Sydney airport gates, excited to see my best mate and his wife but heartbroken by the need to be by your side. I turned my phone off aeroplane mode and received your Spotify track notification. From the moment I hit play on Silk by Giselle, all I wore was a smile because, at that moment, I knew that the playlist known as us would continue to blossom.

We’ve all seen films like Before Sunrise, Lost in Translation, Elizabethtown and Garden State. Relatable reels about two lost people who find something meaningful through their shared disconnection, fall for each other’s charms, and ultimately have to part ways.

The infinite playlist of K and I is no different to any of those cinematic journeys. The only difference between us is that the Spotify playlist that began streaming music on August 24th, 2012, via a shared private music message continues to pulsate beyond the closing credits. 126 tracks and 8 hours and 12 minutes of music later. I guess understanding how a digital music streaming app can continue to keep the heartbeats of two people separated by regional locations pulsating. You have to queue the Spotify soundtrack of us.

THE FIRST HEADPHONE WALTZ OF THE REST OF OUR LIFE

Tap ⬆️ to listen to Hey Ho by @TheLumineers while you 📖 🎧

The play button on the playlist of K and I began after a fateful Facebook news feed thumb stop. One that transpired into a toffee-struck and tongue-tied four-day romance. He was in Melbourne from Perth for a work conference, and I had just found out that the company I was working for was set to be relocating to San Francisco indefinitely. We exchanged mobile numbers that Tuesday morning post our status update sighting to catch up before he flew back to Perth on Wednesday. The memory of that sub-zero August evening and opening my front door to see this adorably handsome man standing in the middle of my street, leather jacket and septum nose piercing clad, remains frozen in recollection. The plan was to have wine, watch a film and hang out for a few hours. But tonsil hockey and shared chest pillows beneath paisley sheets quickly transpired late into the night. Morning came, and after coffee in each other’s arms and many sensual kisses and morning glory explorations, we shared a train into the city.

I went to work, and he returned to his workmates. We exchanged a few messages that morning, and it was clear that the night before and its intimate intensity was something that we both hadn’t found with anyone in a while. Then K put forward the notion of him extending his trip for a few days. We agreed that it was a little crazy and cornily impulsive. Still, despite the whimsicalness of it, this felt like our very own version of that film Weekend unfolding before my eyes. All I wanted to do was embrace every moment of my time with his heartbeat as my lullaby.

K changed his flight to 1pm on Friday to coincide with my weekend departure for Sydney. He explored Melbourne in the afternoon, and then when I walked out of the Galleria building and onto Bourke Street, his fingertips delicately grazed my lips with affection. He was the luminous Natalie Portman to my clumsy Zach Braff pouts, and from the moment I saw him again, I knew I wouldn’t be returning to my office that week. Because in the now, the only thing that existed was us.

Once we returned to my place, an evening slumber previewing new albums intertwined unfolded. K introduced me to emerging tracks like British India’s release I Can Make You Love Me, as my fingertips danced sensually against his ‘So Let Go’ tattoo. The fact that he had Frou Frou lyrics, a track from one of my favourite films, inked on his body sent me into a Rachel McAdams meets Will Truman ‘this is destiny’ state of mind. But I managed to keep calm without cementing a ring to his finger on day two.

That night we embraced the winter cold and strolled the streets of Fitzroy, indulging in cuisine and savouring each other’s company. Then, walking home, we detoured through parks attempting to escape the chilling winter breezes. My calves danced with excitement because, at that moment, I felt like a giddy Nina Proudman. Fizzing over the realisation that I had found a Patrick who I wanted to keep straddled on my chest and synched to my lips for as long as I possibly could.

Thursday morning bloomed, emitting radiant morning sunlight through my window, and we lay for what seemed like hours searching each other’s gazes. We bared our souls beneath my sheets as our limbs got lost in each other’s skin.

Lips-chaffed, we strolled to South Yarra, devoured Misty’s Diner Hershey’s Reece’s Pieces milkshakes and felt raindrops drench our shirts along St Kilda Pier. Then, scampering for shelter, we found ourselves beneath the arches of the apartment block from The Secret Life of Us, wearing nothing but a fragrance of each other’s scents.

We dried off in my bedroom, nestled in a cocoon-like embrace before our last night exploring Melbourne as one. Refreshed from an afternoon siesta, we ventured to Chapel St to dine and watch The Sapphires. Inside the cinema, we held hands like teens and rushed to the photo booth upon exit from the film to capture the intoxicating energy that had been us for the past week.

I don’t think we slept until 2am that night as the unspoken fear that when the sun rose, this would be gone consumed our thoughts. After brunch at New York Tomato, we had one last lounging session on my bed. Each time we tried to part ways to pack our luggage, our kisses kept reacting like magnets. I should have been excited about my impending holiday in Sydney, but all my heart wanted was to tell K how much this meant to me. How this felt, how I felt and how I wanted this to stay, for him to stay, for us to be something more than some once was…

THE BEST TRACKS ARE UNEXPECTEDLY FOUND

Tap ⬆️ to listen to Finally by @CherryGhost while you 📖 🎧

Our Spotify inboxes became inundated with track exchanges after we said goodbye. The Lumineers Hey Ho, The Neighbourhood’s Sweater Weather, Grizzly Bear’s Alligator, and Chet Faker’s I’m Into You became our heartbeats. Crafting soft-focused cityscape reflections through our bedroom windows from Melbourne to Perth.

Then I did it. I booked a flight to Perth for a few days, and as the fauna of spring began to flourish. I found myself on the doorstep of K’s Perth abode. I decided it was my turn to make a bold statement, and when his car pulled up and I saw those eyes and that smirk again, my heart melted. I felt like a teenager in his room, seeing his worldview before me. Being back in his arms and having those lips caress mine as only he could all felt so right. But fear began to linger, as the realisation that maybe there’s a reason why films like Lost in Translation never have a sequel interrupted our passion.

K took me to a series of bars and sights that he knew were Scoobs kosher. We devoured cocktails, shared stories, and eye fucked each other as frequently as we could. Before tipsily returning to his place. In his arms with his head on my chest, everything felt like a dream and fear of farewelling K again knawed at my thoughts.

Morning dawned, K went to work, and my Perth-based cousin Anna and I explored the coastlines like only two crazy Croatians can. That night we shared wine on K’s porch, and as the sun set, my gaze was transfixed by his natural gestures. In this space, his space, I pondered to myself, is this how it feels to be with someone whose every movement melts your ashtray heart? Then, realising that staring at him lather humus onto bread seemed a little creepy, I broke my stare with a kiss on his sundried tomato-tasting lips, knowing that I could come home to this for the rest of my life.

Latenight footsteps on the dance floor from the night before left us feeling unbearably hungover, and as he showered, I stared at his bedroom roof in bed, recollecting how it felt to kiss him on a crowded dance floor and show the flocks of flamingos and bears, that he was mine and mine alone.

Rummaging through my luggage, I pulled out the gift I had brought for him, an illustrated interactive playlist book with pages to record all his favourite tracks. It was a signifier of the songs that made our partnership uniquely ours, and I placed it on his bed as a memento to remind him of me when interstate seas separated our hearts. There’s still a part of me now that would love to share a coffee with him and read the tracks that filled the book’s pages and their significance to the man he has become.

We spent our last day in Perth at Tuck Shop like a couple grazing brunch spots, exploring Fremantle and watching the sunset fall on Cottesloe Beach. For a moment, with his hands intertwined in my sand-scattered palms, an ephemeral motion of Michelle Williams, spreading Health Ledger’s ashes in the sea before us, filled me with melancholy as I pondered, leaving the ashes of K and my affection in the fleeting tide.

That night, I kept waking and nestling myself tightly against him, hoping that morning wouldn’t come. But it did, and we found ourselves back at goodbye. Kisses replaced words, and too much was left unsaid. I kissed him tenderly goodbye from the passenger seat of his car before quickly exiting. I dropped my luggage on melting asphalt, frozen as he drove away, and tears wept a symphony for only miners to hear as they showered me with glares.

SOME SOUNDTRACKS WERE MADE FOR TWO

Tap ⬆️ to listen to Stay With Me by @SamSmith while you 📖 🎧

Our infinite playlist of privately shared Spotify songs went silent until May when K filled my inbox with “Taxi drives through the night, destination Richmond. XX” and a track. I eagerly tapped play on Julian by Say Lou Lou on my mobile and was overwhelmed by his energy once again as I felt his fingertips interweave into mine in the courtyard of the Northcote house party where I was sharing drinks with friends. A second track followed Vance Joy’s song From Afar, with a message stating, “This is me apologising for vanishing, the only way I know how”. In an instant, all I wanted was him and everything I knew we could be as one.

Our playlist began to build again, and his visit to Melbourne for work arrived. Though this time, I was wiser or at least I thought I was. I had a friend visiting from Auckland, and my time for most of his trip was spent with her and her family, but we still found time to reunite. When I saw him again at Federation Square, it was like a frame from a film. All I wanted to do was kiss him, but instead, I hugged him like you hug an old mate.

Dining beneath the urban botanic vines of Grub in Fitzroy, everything about this felt like home. Conversations with K consumed my afternoon, and I implied that I had someone new, even though I didn’t. I couldn’t be vulnerable again to his intimacy despite the love I still felt for him.

We continued shopping along Gertrude Street and found him a hat he wanted. Talking to the old camp shopkeeper, it was like we were there together as a couple, and for a moment, I thought this was how great it would feel to do daily activities with him regularly. I then took him to my favourite Fitzroy flavour, Michelle’s place, to show him their space and introduce him to one of my oldest friends. And as they spoke to each other and I saw him in my world, interacting with people who were like family, I got a taste of how amazing we could be within each other’s social circles.

Instead of making a bold move and telling him how I still felt as I farewelled him, all I could muster up was a hug. As he pressed his chest against mine, I wanted to pause the pace of my life and let him be my pulse for a while. However, shutting the door behind me as he walked into the Moor St night was the only gesture that I could make.

Our playlist still streamed after he flew home and spent seasons on mute until one of us would reignite its pulse with a Spotify track share. His songs melt my heart years later when I receive them and sometimes when I see Instagram shots captured from evenings with couples. I still wish it was him occupying the space next to me. But unfortunately, we can’t be that type of union.

I don’t know if K and I will ever reside in the same city. Whether we will ever be what we once were or if we are destined to be nothing more than two people connected by shared Spotify beats of a soundtrack that once was us. But I know a playlist called Kenneth, and I have streamed it for many years. A playlist that has kept me warmer than any embrace that I’ve experienced since his heartbeat was my lullaby.

To listen to our playlist, click here ► Perth Pash Rash & Waffle Fries.

Written by Samuel Elliot Snowden