"Stanley Uris! Get the hell back here, you doltish Jew!" you screamed at your boyfriend. He barely even stopped to look back as he mounted onto his bike, his noodle-like curls bouncing as he pushed off the pedals.
"The god damn clown isn't worth it! Stan!" Tears streaming down your face, you began to sprint after the bicycle. Your bare feet on the rough pavement hurt like a bitch, but if you stopped you might've never seen Stan again. "Stan! Listen to me Stan!"
Pedaling, pedaling. You knew what he was feeling. He needed to help his friends. He needed to end the monster's reign of terror on the town of Derry, the town you both loved so much. But you needed him. You needed his dorky little smile whenever you did something stupid. You needed his warm embrace to hold you when the leaves turned brown, each dying individually. You needed him to make you smile when your family wiped the grin straight off your face like a napkin would to a droplet of water. With one last aching breath, you called out to him a final time.
"I love you, Stan."
The bike stopped. He just stood there, in the middle of the street with his bike. Almost immediately catching your breath, you resumed your sprint, completely forgetting about the pain in your feet and lungs. It's not like you would've noticed anyways, since the aches dissipated entirely when you wrapped your arms around him from behind. Crying into his shirt, you kept muttering, "I love you, I love you, I love you."
As you held him tighter, you were taken into his arms, his lanky limbs pulling you even closer. A solid minute had passed when he pulled away to look at your face.
"For goodness sakes, you're a mess," you heard his familiar voice chuckle. Well, he wasn't wrong. Your eyes were red and swollen, and your hair was stuck to your face. Nevertheless, you smiled and stared into his deep brown eyes before he pulled you into a kiss, your lips pressed against his lovingly.
It seemed as if it could have lasted for an eternity, but as soon as it began, it was over. Stan had pushed you away briskly and hopped back on his bike, pedaling to what you knew would be his certain death. Left kneeling in the middle of the street, you screamed at Stan until he was out of earshot, and even then you continued to wail.
How odd it is that one can feel so overjoyed and ecstatic one moment just for it all to fall in the next, splashing into an ocean of nothingness.