Love Me Not

Their footsteps echo in the small staircase as she follows him. Up, up, up. Their breathing has become ragged, ever so slightly out of sync. Just like their stars, amongst all other things combined. He loves her, but in this life, love alone isn’t enough.

They reach the rooftop — vacant, as it always is at this time of day. The horizon burns a brilliant orange as droplets of the few last rays of sunlight dance across her skin. A light breeze breaches the humid air to give them some relief. This time tomorrow, they will be strangers who once knew everything about each other, but for now, they’re allowed this.

He turns to her, lips parting but not uttering a word. As if she already knew what he wanted to say, her hand squeezes his. Once, twice, but never three times. “I love you” is a promise, one that they could not keep. Her eyes tremble — she’s sorry. A kiss lingers on the back of her hand, he knows. They watch dusk set over the city, melancholic for what was, is, and never will be.

Tomorrow, they part. She’ll be leaving all she’d known behind — he isn’t an exception. He knows nothing he says will change anything. Even if it did, it still wouldn’t be fair. They’re too young. Too young for the sacrifice he wishes of her. So instead, he keeps quiet and holds her a little tighter. Their last first love.

***

She doesn’t think of him often, but she is only human. Her breath hangs in the air — emotions betray her today. She lets a tear slip. In this moment of weakness, she lets her heart yearn for him. Where he is, she does not know — he is like a summer’s daydream, disappearing like the setting sun they’d watch that fateful evening. She hopes he is well.

They shine in her memories, bright and defiant. They never gave it a name, but she knows he knows, whatever they had, it was love. Not the type that could stay — never the type that could stay — but love was what it was. He was the one that got away. They were the happiness that fell through the cracks.

***

He looks onto the waterfront, faded colours of dusk. In a split moment, he thinks of her. The young girl all those years ago who carved a space for herself in his heart. His juvenile lover. She was gorgeous, with a kind heart that isn’t his. He hopes she is happy.

“You think of her sometimes,” his companion noticed the shift in his demeanor. He chuckles, she is too special for him to forget.

He says that much.

“She abandoned you. She shouldn’t have” his companion states as a matter of fact.

“There is not what she should have done, but only what she could have done. She could not have stayed — even love could not blind us from that”, he answers simply.

They move on from the subject. She’s a faded memory now, a flame that flickered in his darkness, but far too dim in contrast to the light that has slowly returned to his world. He really hopes she is happy, even if that happiness isn’t him.

***

Her reflection twinkles in his green orbs as he twirls her, their laughter ringing in the air. So this is love. Gentle, sweet, and soft. Love, now that she knows, is home in every adventure, safety in every risk, is healing even through pain. Love, now she knows, isn’t hush whispers and stolen kisses. Love, to her, has long not been the boy painted in dusk.

She hopes somewhere out there, he’s also made it through the night. For right now, is her breaking dawn.