Brighter Boy | 15.3.18
The thing is, I'm not sure I know him anymore. I mean, I remember his eyes and his voice and his bed sheets. I remember how he tasted and his smile and his mum and dad and dog. I remember the names of his closest friends and of the places he wanted to go. I remember his deepest secrets and I remember every single word he spoke to me.
I remember his goodbye.
The rain and smeared make up. The cold of his touch. His reassuring smile. He'll be back, he said. I remember that. He chuckled because there was nothing else he could do.
But I don't think I really know him. He's grown up. His voice is deeper. His knuckles are bruised. He's seen so much for such a young boy. He's lived two lives and, for a fleeting moment, I was part of one of them.
I was the protagonist of his better life. I helped him, I know that. I lead him down the right path and he saved my life. He showed me it's ok to feel a little messed up and he told me to hold on. And I did. So so tightly.
But he had his second life. The one I took him out of. The one that will always haunt him. I couldn't protect him from that. It wasn't my fault, God knows there was nothing I could do, but sometimes I just-
Sometimes, all I could do was wish.
If I told you it was a messy break up and that there were tears and screams and scratches, I'd be lying. It was peaceful. We didn't even see it coming. It was just another night, just another sun down. Our last. We were just another love with just another story. And we weren't build to last.
He said I looked pretty and I tackled him into a hug. We had just finished watching a movie and he mocked the character, I'll be back, he chuckled. It was a mixture of awkwardness and dread. Goodbyes were always weird. And unwanted. They were always cold but forcefully funny. They came nevertheless. Chapped lips met red cheeks, doors opened and closed.
And that was that.
I just, I don't know what happened. Nothing happened. He didn't call. I didn't text. I was busy. He was hurting. I was alone in my room. He was alone in his.
And that was that.
I never heard from him again. I never spoke to him again, I never heard his laugh or saw his crystal eyes. Ever again.
I remember everything about him. About us. But not about me. I can't place just how he made me feel. I can't remember how I smiled when I saw him or how my heart dropped when his eyes failed to light up. I can't remember if his hair fell to the left or to the right. If it was more chestnut or auburn. I remember him from day dreams and pictures. From heart beats and songs. I remember his presence, his love, his stories. I remember him as a person, a part of my life, but not much more.
It's all just a memory now.