“Would it destroy everything?” I ask you. You’re still looking at the sky that’s slowly getting brighter. You turn around. My question confuses you. I want to add more, so that you can understand what I’m trying to say but I’ve used up all my courage for those four words. Suddenly, your eyes change. You understand now. But you don’t speak, you just put your arms around me and bury your face in my chest. I do the same, my head slightly tilted. I take in your scent, your touch, your power. If I’m going to do it, it must be now. I take a small step backwards, brush away a stray hair from your forehead and put one hand behind your ear. You know what I want to do. My eyes are fixed on you, but you’re looking at the ground.
“Don’t do it.”
My heart stops, everything’s cold. Your words hang in the air like an unwanted raincloud. They grow and repeat themselves over and over again in my head. I’m suddenly painfully aware of the fact that it’s 6am on a Sunday morning and that we’re standing in the middle of a street, both still slightly drunk and freezing. You’re slowly shaking your head, your eyes locked on the cold concrete underneath our feet. I know that it’s wrong. I’ve known it from the moment those ugly feelings have first appeared in my heart. The risk has always been too high, the chance of failure too real. But I need to do something with my emotions. I have to take them in some kind of direction. Why I decided to do it on the morning after an escalated houseparty is unclear to me. The reasons don’t matter now, though. We’re already in too deep.
It takes me a couple of seconds to decide what to do next. Don’t do it. I won’t. I kiss your forehead with dehydrated lips and hug you again. You’re still quiet. It doesn’t matter though, your firm grip says enough. You free yourself from my embrace, still holding on tightly to my forearm.
“You want it too, I can see it,” I say.
“I can’t.” Your voice is quiet and weak. You look at me with puffy, red eyes. “It’s too complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” I’m losing myself in a fantasy.
“Life isn’t as easy as you portray it in your stories,” you say, more firmly now.
“I guess not.” I smile a childish smile. I have lost yet again, I realize that now.
“You should go, it’s late.” You’re looking at me with innocent blue eyes. Your words contradict your actions, I can still feel your hand on my arm. You don’t want me to leave, but we both know it would be better if I did. I take you in my arms again and you don’t pull away. I dig my fingers into your back, I want to hold you forever.
My heart hurts, and so does my hand. Today, I’ve fought both a wall and my own mind. And where has it led me?
I can’t cry but the rain takes care of wetting my eyes.