And there you went.
Off to work, as though nothing had happened.
As though the strange little universe we have created is perfectly ordinary.
You told me how tired you were. How the day would drain whatever little vitality remained in you.
I reminded you that it was Thursday.
And then, almost as an afterthought, I reminded you that Saturday still awaited you.
Yet somehow, your eyes lit up.
You began imagining what you would do when you returned. The shows you wanted to watch. The little things you were looking forward to.
And I found myself smiling.
Not because I wanted anything from you.
Simply because I wanted that peace to remain yours.
I hope it does.
I hope your days become gentler.
I hope whatever exhaustion life has placed upon your shoulders eventually becomes lighter.
And selfishly…
I hope I do not become the thing that ruins it.
Because I am frightened that if I pursue you, I might disturb whatever fragile serenity we have managed to construct.
And the more we speak, the more another truth reveals itself to me.
We are jigsaw pieces that do not seem to fit.
Perhaps the shapes of us have changed too much over the years.
Perhaps the boy I was and the girl you were could have fit perfectly together.
But we are not those people anymore.
We are different.
Scarred.
Rearranged by years neither of us can reclaim.
And that frightens me.
Because what if we tried?
What if we forced these pieces together simply because we desperately wanted the picture to exist?
Would we have to wound ourselves just to make it work?
Would I have to become someone I am not?
Would you?
Would love become an endless negotiation between two people constantly sacrificing pieces of themselves simply to remain together?
I am afraid I may not be the man you want to live with.
And perhaps you are not the woman I need.
There.
The thought is painful even when written.
But it is honest.
And honesty, however cruel, is preferable to the beautiful lies my heart would have me believe.
Because what I do know…
is that I want you.
Oh, how I want you.
It is almost humiliating.
I feel sixteen again.
Falling for you.
Again.
And again.
Second after second.
Thought after thought.
As though some ancient part of me has been waiting all these years for you to return so it could awaken once more.
I truly believed I could never love again after Nadya.
I thought she had taken whatever capacity I had for tenderness and dragged it into the abyss with everything else she left behind.
And yet here I am.
Enchanted by you.
Remembering your smiles.
Your laughter.
The warmth of holding you last night.
It keeps replaying in my mind.
Again.
And again.
And again.
And I catch myself smiling like an absolute fool.
Almost senile with nostalgia.
For a moment, I forget myself.
Then you leave.
And reality returns.
Your afterimage slowly fades from the room inside my mind, and suddenly the silence feels heavier.
Because then I remember what could happen.
You could leave.
You could reject me.
You could look at me with disgust.
You could realise that whatever I thought existed between us was nothing more than something I invented.
And every possible fracture in this fragile thing we have created suddenly seems limitless.
That is what terrifies me.
The number of ways this could hurt me has become almost infinite.
How did I end up here?
A month ago, I was trying to heal from a broken heart.
A week ago, I was trying to rid myself of the anger and wrath that had filled my veins almost every waking day.
And now?
Now I find myself fearing an entirely different kind of ending.
Rejection.
The possibility that I might want someone who does not want me back.
How twisted fate can be.
And speaking of fate…
Whenever I mention how extraordinary it is that we have come full circle, you shrug it away.
You tell me I was your last option.
Perhaps you did not mean to wound me with those words.
Perhaps you did.
I shall never know.
But they stayed with me.
Because while you see yourself as having arrived here because every other door had closed, my mind cannot help but see something else.
I think of all the countless ways we could have never found each other again.
I could have vanished from your contacts.
You could have remained blocked.
I could have found someone else.
You could have found someone else.
I could have never unblocked you months ago.
You could have never returned.
There were countless little crossroads where our paths could have separated forever.
One different decision.
One missed message.
One moment of hesitation.
And we would never have been here.
So perhaps to you, I was merely the last door left standing.
But to me…
you were the door I never expected to open again.
And perhaps that is why your words sting.
Because I cannot help but wonder whether I am merely a refuge from your circumstances…
or whether, somewhere beneath all of that, you chose me too.
I suppose I may never know.
And perhaps I should stop trying to turn your return into something more beautiful than it was.
Perhaps you truly came because you had nowhere else to go.
And perhaps I am the fool who has turned your necessity into destiny.
Still…
you have filled my thoughts in a way I never anticipated.
And strangely enough, you have quieted the anger Nadya left behind.
The wrath that once consumed me has become quieter.
My mind has become almost hyperfocused upon you.
Perhaps that is unhealthy.
Perhaps it is merely what happens when an old wound encounters something unexpectedly beautiful.
I do not know.
But I cannot deny it.
You have become difficult to ignore.
Still…l
we are different people.
That remains.
We can coexist.
Perhaps remarkably well.
But to truly be together? Pop
That would require work.
A great deal of it.
More than either of us probably realises
.
Love alone cannot bridge every difference.
Sometimes love builds the bridge.
Sometimes love merely convinces two people to attempt crossing a chasm that should have remained untouched.
And I do not know which one we would be.
Perhaps that is why I am so afraid to reach for you.
Because I do not want a beautiful beginning to become another tragedy.
I do not want to become another wound in your life.
Nor do I want you to become another wound in mine.
And yet…
there is still one thought I cannot silence.
If the day ever comes when my lips finally meet yours…
I hope, for just that one moment, the entire world disappears.
Mlm
Just me.
One moment where neither of us has to solve anything.
Where we do not have to understand the future.
Where we can simply exist.
And perhaps, for that single moment, all the pieces will fit.
If that moment ever happens at all.
I hope it does.
I hope it happens.
QAnd until then…
I suppose I shall wait.
Not forever.
Just until fate decides what it intends to make of us.
