xlvii.

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dear oliver,
-
“hey,” you smiled.
your head was covered
by a baseball cap, a toothy
smile danced a few inches
underneath it.

“hi,” i looked into your eyes,
searching for something, anything
to tell me where you have been,
why i can’t visit you. what has
changed?

“i’m sorry,” you sighed. “i
should have told you from
the start.”

“huh?”

“the reason why i stopped
talking to you, the reason
why i ignored you. the reason
why i can’t see you. the reason
why i started doing drugs.
the reason why i started drinking-”

“drinking too?” i raised an eyebrow
only to receive another sigh from
your cold lips.

“yeah.” you paused and recollected
your focus, as your eyes shifted
from mine to your shoes. “drinking.
i just, i needed to do everything
i couldn’t do when i was with you.”

“so i wasn’t the right person
to be around? holding you back?”

“no, saving me from doing stupid
stuff, like drinking. and drugs. and
using cigarettes as a way to look
tough. you were saving me.”

“then why did you go?”

“you can’t really smile at the person
you love and tell them that you
have lung cancer. that you’re dying.
you can’t bear seeing their eyes
blink slower. the tears cascade
down their cheeks decorated with
roses. you can’t, quinn. i threw it
all away to just watch you fall.
i’m sorry. i thought i was helping
myself, you know. finally “living”
—only to find out in the end, it’ll
only be helping me die a little faster.
i’m sorry, quinn, i’m sorry,” you shook
your head fast, your eyes coated with
thick tears. “i’m sorry, i don’t want
to hurt you. ever. i just can’t lose you
so fast. i want to forget you. i want this
love to disappear. to make it easier when
i go. i just. i’m sorry.” you stuttered and
dried up your rivers of sorrow with your
sleeve. “i’m sorr-”

and then i kissed you.

quinn

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