How to Love ✔️

28 skin

I unbuttoned Truman's jacket. I peeled the wet fabric from his skin and ran my hands across his chest, the curves and hardened skin that pulled me from my mind and lifted me somewhere above the clouds. I felt his breath on my neck, felt his hands on my bare skin as my dress found its way to the floor with the rest of his clothing.

I was terrified. I was desperate. I was drowning in guilt and floating on love and I held him as close as he could be for it was the last time my fingers would touch his skin like it was mine for the taking. Only mine.

He moaned my name and I held his gaze, watched his steely eyes pierce my heart and ignite a fire somewhere deep within me. I should have wrenched my body away but I dug my nails into his back.

"Truman." It was a breath, a release of air, and his mouth was there, on mine, without me having to even ask.

And then he was everywhere. On me, in me, within me. I felt him in my heart, on my eyelids, on my finger tips. He was on my chest and my back and my legs and his breath was clouding my mind and it was fine, I thought, I didn't want to see a world without him hovering somewhere at the centre.

When Truman whispered I love you it was wrong but I said it back anyway. I ran my mouth across his skin, wet with rain and sweat, and I wrapped my legs around his back, pulling him tighter until there was no space left to close.

Maybe it was therapeutic. Maybe it was destructive. Maybe there wasn't a difference.

We lay there until the rain stopped pouring and thunder ceased to vibrate throughout the night sky. The storm was over. So were we. It was final now.

I pulled my head from Truman's chest and peered up at his face resting against the glass window. His breath fogged it up with every exhale. Feeling me awaken, he turned his face to mine. We didn't smile. There were no flutters in my chest. Only an ache.

Truman nodded and looked away. I slipped my dress back on and climbed into the passenger seat. Truman did the same. A minute later, we were driving through the darken, deserted streets.

When Truman rolled the windows down, the night air blew in. The windows defogged, like it erased everything we just did—everything we just were.

We sat in silence until I said, "What now?"

Truman stopped at a red light. We were halfway back to the city by now. My apartment building would pop up on the right side of the road in ten minutes.

It was all we had left. Ten minutes to feel like we lived in a world occupied by the two of us.

"I don't know," he said. Then, "That's a lie. I do know, Eden. But it's not what you want to hear."

With that, we stopped talking.

I already knew what Truman wanted. He wanted us. He wanted me. He wanted a life of happiness and kisses and heartfelt moments that would forever be trampled on by the guilt that snaked its way around my heart whenever I lay my eyes on his beautiful face.

And I had spent so long going back and forth with myself. Trying to decide whether I could love Truman Falls and live a life consumed by happiness, too. The answer was that I couldn't. That the guilt would always be there. That as long as we were together, I would constantly mourn the loss of Katie and he was a walking reminder of the girl I was losing and the promise that led my astray.

Truman pulled over in front of my building. I reached into the space between us and found his hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.

"I love you," I told him. "I always have, Truman. I always will. But it's not enough, because for how happy you make me feel, the guilt is there, pressing down ten times stronger. I can never be happy with you. I can't be the girlfriend you want me to me. I can't forget Katie and the promise I broke, and shove it all to the back of my mind.

"You need to let me go. You need to go be with your sister and spend these last few days with her. You need to forget about me because we can't be happy together. We can't," I finished.

I think he was crying, but his eyes were pressed so firmly together that it was difficult to tell.

"Are you going to be okay?" I whispered, feeling his hand go limp in my own.

"Yes," he said. It was a lie. We both knew it.

I leaned across the seat and kissed him, one last time. I tasted the memories and the love we shared and the moment our mouths parted, I let it go.

I let him go.

I watched him from outside the car. Watched him in the darkness and shadows he always seemed to take company with. His gaze was locked on the road ahead, and he just sat there, the car idling, like he was too afraid to drive off.

Then his door opened and Truman ran to me, wrapped his arms around me, crushed me to him. I pressed myself into his chest and felt his heart beat beneath my cheek. It was bright and alive and I knew that one day, he would be too.

Truman murmured something into my hair, and I couldn't make it out. I don't think I was supposed to. This moment was for him.

When he pulled back, he smiled, the smallest of them all, the saddest, too. We held each other's gaze, a language of its own.

"You always were a devil," he whispered, "ever since that first night."

I couldn't muster up the energy to smile. Neither could he anymore. His face was lifeless, expressionless, and his words didn't feel like a compliment or a reminder. Or some inside joke.

As he walked away, I called his name one last time.

He paused, turned around.

I drank him in, every last detail. His beauty was painful. His heart was beautiful.

"You're good, Truman. You've always been good. Remember that."

Without another word, he got into the car and drove off into the night.

The words were the truth. He was good. He was loving and kind and the greatest brother Katie could have asked for. It was me that brought him down, me that chipped away at his goodness.

But now he was free. Free to be good without me.
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uhmm i think this may be one of the best chapters i've ever written. verdict is still out. ALSO i know i haven't updated in a decade however there's about 2/3 chapters left and this story will be completed by next week. ty for reading and see ya then ❤️