I didn’t want him to leave. I
was slowly examining every part of his face. One by one. Touching every spot,
each mole, his thin cheeks, red marks. Trying to memorise as much as I possibly
could. Blonde hair fell on his pale skin hiding few pimples. He was lying on my lap looking at me with
those big green eyes, the same way as he did when we first met. His eyes were
filled with happiness back then, not watering, not looking away. He didn’t realise
that I was already missing him terribly.
I kissed the red, heart like looking mark on
his forehead and looked at him smiling. He was holding my hand. Slowly pressed my
palm to his mouth at the same time showing “always&forever C2”
on his wrist. The tattoo he got few nights ago. I told him that was stupid of
him to mark his body for his entire life just because of a girl he met in a
store, but now I felt happy about that. A quick sight escaped from my lungs. My
heart got stumped with millions of needles at the same time. Slowly falling
apart, drifting away from each other and neither of us could do anything about
it. I bit my lip trying to say something, but remained silent. It was so quiet,
almost calm. His eyes closed. Looking so vulnerable, so innocent. I knew it.
No-one had to tell me about it, explain… He knew it as well.
We had spent a wonderful three months lying to
each other. Living an illusion that
would soon disappear. Just like him. It was clear and understandable - he
wouldn’t stay with me. We would never settle down. Maybe we would meet one day.
Different. Being strangers to each other, knowing so much about ourselves. Hugging instead of casual greeting, getting
to the same club as we used to, he would introduce me to his new girlfriend
secretly gazing if I still had that ring. I would smile seeing a little tattoo
on his wrist, which used to mean so much. We would talk about those few years
when we were not keeping in touch, maybe we would even go out together. Just
the two of us. Just like old, good friends trying to catch up after months. And
again I would laugh at his jokes. But in the end he would not be the one on
whose lap I would be sitting on in a pub. He would not get my name tattooed on
his forearm, nor would I be the one
kissed on the forehead by him. I wouldn’t dance with him, he wouldn’t say
anything about how nice I was looking like. I knew it and I was also sure that
it had to be like that. Was I about to do anything with it? No. I didn’t want
to hold even a single minute of those months. Trying to remember only good
things about him. About us.
Everything has its end. Ours came way too soon.
Just as he came to my life, quickly, without saying a thing, not asking for
permission, he would disappear the same way. Leaving me in an empty kitchen sitting
on an old, dirty sofa that once used to be brown. Saying how much he loved me,
that I was the one and would always be. Kiss my forehead and leave. What about
me? I would stay and not even a single tear would go down my cheeks. I would
not feel sad or alone. Nothing would change. Next morning he would seem so
distant to me, as if he never existed, as if we never met. Only once would I
sit alone crying. Maybe one day I would forget about that guy who could always
cheer me up. After years I would probably forget his name. Not saying hello
when seeing each other in a public place. Remembering would be just too
painful, too many lies had been told already, we didn’t need more of them.
I could feel his breath on my cheek. Slow and
controlled. I had enough. Somebody had to stop this, end the illusion. I stared
at his luggage for a minute, then I got up and briskly came to the doors. That
was it, it was his time to go and to never come back. He got his bags and came
to me. My hair was stuck between his fingers. My breath stopped for a second.
Sudden warmth came through my body one last time. His eyes reminded me of
flooded meadows. No flowers could be rescued. Not this time. And then… there
was just an echo, old, dirty sofa, broken microwave and a cup of unfinished
coffee. Still warm. It seemed to be so empty although the room was filled with
furniture and electrical equipment. He left me. Quick. Quiet. Without any sign
of regret. Without a single word. He left me and we were supposed to never see
each other again.
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