He dreams of you, sometimes. He dreams of you, in a field of purple hyacinths, smiling and patting the ground, waiting for him to join you.
He shouldn’t, but he always does.
He wants to lean against you, to feel your warmth again, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
He doesn’t deserve you.
It’s always quiet, at first. Neither of you talk. The sun makes you seem to almost glow, a halo of light around your head.
You’re always so beautiful.
“It’s not your fault, you know.”
Your voice is quiet, calm, and content.
His heart squeezes painfully in his chest, and he can feel the tears starting to form.
“I’d never blame you for what happened, you know that. It was an accident.”
‘An accident that happened because of me,’ he wants to say, ‘it was my luck that caused it, I might as well have killed you myself.’
He says nothing.
He says nothing, because he knows from experience that you would argue that it wasn’t his luck and that even if it was, it wasn’t something he could control. You’d sit there for hours, crowned in the golden light of the sun, telling him that it wasn’t his fault.
There’s tears in your eyes as you look at him, and his heart squeezes again: all he seems to do is hurt you.
Despite this thought, he can’t bring himself to resist when you pull him into a hug. He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly, and hides his face in your shoulder.
You’re so cold.
“I wish I could have stayed with you for just a little longer, but it’s okay: I’ll wait here for you, as long as it takes.”
He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay here, in this little slice of paradise, in your arms.
He doesn’t want to wake up.
You pull back, smiling in that way he’ll always love.
“You can’t stay here, not yet. It’s not your time.”
You hold his face, so gently, and he feels himself melt into your touch as you wipe away his tears. His eyes flit to and fro, trying to dedicate every one of your features to memory.
He can’t forget you.
“I know it’s hard, but I know you can do it. Just remember, I’ll wait for you.”
You lean forward, kissing him sweetly. He almost starts to cry when you pull away.
“It’s time for you to wake up. Remember, I don't blame you, and no matter what happens, I love you.”
He wakes up in a cold bed that seems too empty. He can feel the tears drying on his face, and he’s hugging a pillow.
He wants to go back to sleep, to see you again, but he knows that he has to be strong: he won’t let the despair consume him, not when he still has memories of you.
He rolls out of bed without a sound, washing the tears from his face and preparing to face another day on the island with a smile on his face. Four of their classmates had already met their end, and he knows there’s every chance of him being next.
As he remembers you, waiting patiently for him in the purple field, he realizes he wouldn’t mind.
