Sometimes in moments of pure and utter bliss, Mark laid with Kieran under a blanket of stars and got lost in the other’s breathing. Usually, when caught between the bridge of consciousness and unconsciousness, Kieran would whisper sweet nothings into Mark’s ear, or incoherent confessions Mark had pretended not to listen to. He always did, yet he never wished to embarrass his lover or draw attention to the things he said by repeating them. This time was different. Probably because Mark was dreaming. Be that the reason why Kieran spoke in past tense, as if the love between them was not there anymore. Alas, even while angry, or while so full of hatred, Mark still loved Kieran. It was love that spurred his hate, that drove it. And it was love that he couldn’t erase. No matter how bad the itch was or he wanted to.
‘ The tragedy is Kieran, I will always love you. Past, present, and future. ‘