“I’m trying my hardest, you know. To not fall in love with you. But you’re not making it easy for me. You keep doing these things and each one of them drives me crazy. I think about you too much. I’m not sure if you agree, but I think it’s a known fact that we’re meant to be together. We click. Don’t you feel it? Can’t you feel it? You think I’m crazy. I’m in love with you and all I want to do is kill you”. I’m led across his chest and I can hear his heart beat. My words don’t alter it at all. The blood flow is steady. An equal amount of oxygen in and carbon dioxide out. I breathe deeply and he pulls me to sit up.
“Yes”. That’s all he says. He then kisses me. It’s deep and urgent. He tastes of him, sweet and tender. I pull myself closer to him and fall into the kiss. I let out a soft whimper as his fingers trace the back of my neck. I don’t want this to end.
I remember waking up to the soft light through his blinds across my face. I can feel the soft autumn sun on my skin. The last good feeling. I walk to the bathroom to wash my face and awake.
The bath tub is full. It’s overflowing. But it’s not right. He lies there limp in a pool of his own blood. His eyes are no longer his and his hair is dull, his skin white. He’s dead. He’s killed himself. We always talked of it, but I didn’t think he’d do it. Not now that we had this. Had. I remember walking over to the bath and lifting his face. He’s cold and wet. He’s no longer warm. He’s no longer mine. I can’t breathe. I just want to be with him one last time. Don’t ask why. But I climb into the tub and I clamber into his limbs. I wrap his lifeless arms around me and for a moment I shut my eyes and we’re in bed. His arms around me, his head rest on mine. We’re alive and happy. Two sick kids together.
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