9.8 Meters a Second. [Complete]

Epilogue. Downhill.

The last thing I could remember before apparently passing out was crying. Just tears. Everything hurt. My head, my heart, my soul, and my body all wept at once in the unequivocal sadness brought upon me by the natural laws that define us. Things that fall break; and as such it is always a risk to fall in love.

We are condemned to a certain pain when love is lost. A pain far too wicked to what the sweetness of love offers. A pain that corrupts the soul and festers in your heart until you feel cold enough to no longer care about the pain you've experienced, just enough to make you start right over.

It came in the form of a phone call at 1:37 in the morning on the third Monday of October. The seasons had shifted early this year and snow had fallen in small little droves and lingered on the pavement until the sun would melt it away at noon every day. It came in a way that makes your heart shiver, lock up, and want to quit beating inside your chest until you realize you can't do a thing. But, isn't that just so poetic?

Even still, the natural laws that encompass life, the same ones you feel pulling you to the ground are the same ones that define your best friend, or your lover, or your family. The reality is, these laws are here for a reason. They may hurt your soul and wretch your heart, but they do protect you from getting lost in space. Of course, sometimes the person you're pulled away from is the one that was showing you the very stars you admired so much.

And yet, the soul persists.

On that fated night, as the fading hours of the night began to leak into the newest day, things became obvious. The distance between us was a vast rift. We both knew it too well. With heavy hearts, this choice was an easy one we both made. I regret being the one to bring it up, but that is the life we live. At 1:37 in the morning, I called the person most dear in my heart.

"I never spent a moment loving anyone but you. And I hope you know that's the truth." I whispered to him through a shaky voice and the mask of a cellphone.

"I know." he said from the other line. That warm tone that seemed to fill my heart ran through me. My stomach felt like it was twisting, tearing, and coming right out of me. "But that's just something people say."

We ended on terms that were good. After all, I was moving out of town. My father wanted to follow the Vers family for a business venture. Of course, I had no say. But that was okay. Inaho was going to be leaving the state for college. He had a scholarship to a technology institute, one he could never pass up. So it was okay. Even if my heart felt torn and my mind felt broken it was all okay, because I knew he would become a better Inaho. I guess, in retrospect, that growth he'd take on just didn't include me.

I remember one occasion where he showed me a beautiful song. Vincent by Don Mclean. As the title portrays, the song is an homage to Van Gogh. He never sang around me but one lyric of that melancholy. It was the most delicate sound. He looked to me with a soft, sympathetic look, and sang to me. Just this once.

"Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, swirling clouds in a violet haze reflect in Vincent's eyes of China blue."

It was one of those tiny, indicative things that you only really get with someone special. To see a song so well suited to an idol in the history or arts be formed to your own image is sweet. It almost makes me feel better thinking of it.

I still love him, but that's the formalities of a situation. Maybe he still loves me? Maybe not. But that's all okay.

On the day I moved out of town, he came to see me. We hugged and exchanged a few different forms of contact information in case we ever needed to hear from each other. I couldn't help but tear up.I saw his normally soft face twist a little. That was too much. I let go of his hand for a final time and turned away. It hurt too much to face him. With a heavy heart and silence, I walked over to the passenger side and climbed into the lofty SUV. Cruhteo pat my arm sympathetically as the engine turned. As the van began to roll away, I saw him in the rear view mirror. As we reached the cap of the hill and began to go down, gravity propelling us along the monotonous gray pavement. His reflection stayed in place as the mirror showed only the sky and I couldn't help but laugh about it.