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half hearted: part six

one part left after this, wow. (when i’m more with it I might add to this like I normally do but rn im tired and i’m a mess basically)

one / two /three / four / five / six / seven (last)

collection of writing

I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, closing my eyes tightly I tried to picture us back in bed this morning or any morning. Turning to face him my breathing became rapid, I could feel my chest rising and falling as I tried to hold back the tears that brimmed my eyes. “I didn’t think it would come so soon.” I released a watery laugh, unsure how else to cope. My eyes darted around to find a distraction rather than focus on his sad expression. Pushing the brown that hangs in his forehead, slanted as he rests his head against the pillow I brush it aside, not wanting to miss a single detail about him. His face seemed softer now, his arm relaxed around my waist, but could easily tense as if he didn’t want to let go- I don’t want to let him go.

Our week had come and gone too quickly, today was our final hours together, yet a status was still unknown to us. Things had happened, we joked about Myla being out of the apartment thankfully when we came home, that she didn’t have to hear us or put earbuds in. I didn’t feel insecure about myself with him, he liked the way I am shaped, my figure, the cellulite and the small details that go unnoticed. Being intertwined with him didn’t feel uncomfortable, neither of us wanting to be the first to let go, but today we have no choice.

Licking my lips I whisper his name into his face, kissing his cheek lightly as my fingertip brushes from his cheek, down past his jawline and to his chest, drawing small nonsensical shapes as he began to arise. His arm parted from my waist as he lifted it above the covers, stretching out and groaning quietly. As he relaxed he turned back to face me, a small proximity between us, just how we liked it to be. “Sleep well?” I mumble as the comfort of my bedding, the company, the warmth is too irresistible, the temptation to fall asleep for another day is too inviting on many occasions.

“Anything is better than that crappy mattress.” He remarked, a smile creeping onto his face as he says it. I glance down at the now bare spot on my floor, the space that has now been available for a few days.

Instead that space became where we fell after a night of drinks. He told me about the time he skateboarded into a plant, and I told him how my friends thought I was praying the drunkenness out of me as I sat in front of a church, trying not to vomit. It was the spot where my shoes resigned themselves as we climbed into bed, where our clothes were casted off.

We both sit in a silence, neither wanting to be the first to state it, bring up the apparent elephant in the room. I sit up first, no longer clinging to my bedding to cover myself from him as the insecurities faded, I can be myself with him. Attempting to climb over him he grabs my hips, refusing to let go as I laugh at the sensation of his hands jabbing into me. Dimples, deeply embedded in his cheeks appeared, making their final appearance for who knows how long.

Both of us got changed into something comfortable as I hovered by the balcony door, the two plastic chairs he purchased still there, one soon to be vacant of a partner. I glanced over my shoulder to see him fumbling for his joggers, hopping as he slipped them on and accepted my hand that was extended, waiting for him. For the last time with him by my side I slide the door open, no more was the warmth that was enticing and called my name. Instead I let the crispness of the 5am dawn wake me up, to rise through my clothes, play in my hair and whisper how it’ll all work out fine into my ear.

Stepping past the metal bar that threw ice into each particle of my skin a single shiver shot through me as goosebumps exploded over my arms and legs, each hair standing on end and refusing to calm down. We take our assigned seats, sitting in the same silence, but this time we have more of a view to admire. It feels weird to think about waking up to this without him, knowing he’ll never wake up with the same view, it’ll be forever changing.

“So,” I speak up first, the elephant having followed us out here as it presses against my chest, causing my breathing to be shaky, constricted. “where are you off to next?” It pained me to ask, to know how long he could be gone, when I could even think about seeing him again.

His eyes locked with the view as purple surrounded us, hints of blue painted in watercolours as they spread in any direction. Everyone is asleep, sometimes I would see others on their balconies, smoking a joint, rocking themselves back and forth. Never have I seen anyone so quiet, so silent as we are now. I wonder if anyone looks at us and wonders what we’re up to, why or how we are just content sitting out here as we watch the sunrise. “Did I ever tell you why I love your balcony so much?” He speaks up, dodging my question entirely.

Looking over to him he kept his head down, he wasn’t admiring the view anymore, he was too focused on the floorboards, too focused. Despite dawn only just approaching the outline of his face remained as prominent as ever, the way his jaw was so sharp yet soft, the way his nose curved and stuck out slightly. “Why?” I struggle to hide the irritation that rises in my tone, but I don’t want to fight now, not today.

“You can be seperate from it all, even for a short amount of time.” Turning my head I focus on him as he talks, the way he starts to use his hands to explain it all, the feelings he experiences out here. “Here you are able to zone out, not worry about anything else and live in the moment. You can see the sunrise and set, you see others live their lives whilst you are in a bubble, preserved behind glass.” As he finished a smile formed as his head turned to face mine.

“I don’t want to be preserved, Dan.” I sigh, louder than I had intended to. “Not forever.” Standing up I begin to walk past him, but his hand tries to reach for mine, yet I can’t give him the satisfaction.

Walking back into my room I didn’t want to sit in the bubble, be a bystander watching it all happen. Instead I want to live in the last day we have together, I want to enjoy it and add to the list of memories we’ve created in seven days. The hours we’ve spent watching films, curling up together until we fall asleep, the music he has introduced to me and played, learning about the band, the origins and life before all of it. I’ve opened up about my past relationship as guilt began to eat away at my stomach like meat to piranhas.

Some evenings we spent outside, talking about what the future might hold, what it could bring in terms of us, ourselves. Others we kept warm in blankets, or went for a romantic meal, something I had never experienced, but with him it didn’t feel weird, it felt weirdly perfect.

As I slide my door shut he lowers his head into his hands, the sun now breaking through the apartment blocks in the distance. Turning around I walk out of my room, out of the space where our things lie crumbled together in piles, where I don’t have to be reminded of him or the things we’ve been doing. Out here, out in my hallway he hasn’t tainted it, it hasn’t been affected by him unlike my room, unlike my delicate heart.

I walk through to the kitchen, the window miniscule compared to the one in my room as light barely covers the right hand wall. Moving past the counter I pour myself a drink, watching the water fill it and overflow, how it dances on the surface of the glass and pours down the sides, spilling into the sink and back down the drain. Zoning out I feel a hand on my shoulder, causing me to knock the glass down and it shatters next to me, water splashing up my legs.

“Stay still.” He says with caution as I rest my hands on the counter as he picks up shards of glass, the puddle growing around me. “You alright?” I can hear how much he cares, how much he wants things to be okay, but he knows, I know.

All I can do is shake my head as my lips quiver, my arms shaking against the counter as tears begin to spill like the water was in the glass. His hands turn me around to face him, yet I turn away, not wanting him to see. Gently he moves my chin, pain buried deep in his gaze rather than the lighthearted joy of last night. “It’s not going to be the same.” I mutter between shaky breaths as my shoulders twitch, the occasional hitch in my voice.

“I know,” He brings me into a hug, resting his hand on my hair as he strokes it. “I know.”

Hand in hand we stroll on by the shops, I point out the creepy dolls that remind me of something you’d only witness in a horror film. We drooled over the pastries that we ate the other day, wishing to relive that, secretly wishing to relive this entire week together.

As we walk neither of us speak up, only wisps of our own breath explain how we feel. Out of the corner of my eye I see heavier wisps, heavy sighs as we get closer, closer to our little spot that is forever changing. For me I keep them contained, I keep quiet about it as I know if I try to realise this is it, I won’t survive this goodbye.

Dan slips his hand out of mine, the warmth slowly moving out of my grip as the cold air attacks it, the vulnerability rising in my skin. He pushes the gate open, hearing it creak with age as I pick up speed, rushing over to him as my hand fits back into his. “Just six days ago,” I shake my head as we start the walk around the space. The sandy dust still coats the ground lining the dying grass as the tips start to freeze up, leaving a crisp sound beneath my feet. “right there.” Pointing ahead I see the bench, the space where I was terrified of being rejected, of meeting Dan and who he could be.

Once we got to it Dan began to chuckle to himself. “Stand there a second?” He positioned me until I was in the right spot as he stood a short distance away. Slowly I lift my head, the black fabric on his shoes is still tainted, marked with the gravel that clings to the fibres. The same black jeans that were on my floor this morning, a warm sheepskin lined denim jacket, the one I felt safe wearing in the cool evenings as we strolled back to mine. My eyes only trailed further as I remember the beating of my heart being uncontrollable the first time I did this, but now it feels calm, as if I’m lying in bed in a state of tranquility.

Yet as I reach his neck, the stubble that stretches down and fades my heart begins to beat slightly faster. His smooth jawline that is lined with a thicker mass of stubble, how badly I wish I could see a beard happen, maybe someday, someday. Swallowing the lump that was rising in my throat as his smile grew from a thin line across his lips to a cheerful grin, dimpled cheeks, as if he is trying to tell me it’ll be alright. By the time my eyes reach his, he slips off his glasses. Lines are marked by his eyes, but all I can read is how much he cares, how much it seems I matter to him.

Stepping closer I don’t dare take my eyes off his, I wish I could swim deep into the depths of the blue that fill his eyes, the unique blends of night and day, of love and true intentions. How in a single glance his gaze can explain more, tell more than some novels can. With one look he can tell me a story, he can comfort me. It feels like the first day we met, how I broke down and without realising it he helped, he made me feel safe in a way no one ever has.

And now I have to let that go.

Our hands reach out for the others, once connected we step closer together until our foreheads rest together. “Is it always this hard?” I mumble, lifting my head as I scan his expression, how quickly it has changed, his eyes darker, sorrowful.

“Only for those we truly love.” Lifting myself up my lips softly kiss his, this time it wasn’t about being in the heat of the moment, it wasn’t about suppressing my feelings and letting them out. This time it was about the raw emotions that are being driven into this, about the salty tears that mix with the sweet. The pain and love that I can feel, that I know is reciprocated.

As I pull away first I fall back from the balls of my feet, resting them flat against the ground. My eyes focus on the floor, how we’ve spread the small stones out, leaving room for us to stand together. Neither of us spoke up, we simply walked through the crinkled grass as it crunched beneath our feet, each step sounding like the first bite of an apple, this being less sweet.

I take a seat in the swing as he stands behind me, pushing me until I’m close to soaring, until I feel like a kid again hoping to swing all the way around and never quite achieving it. Then as I come back down to the ground he is no longer there to push me, to help me soar high. Instead he is next to me, swinging by my side rather than being in the background. As we swing we laugh wholeheartedly, already preparing for the jump that will follow.

Slowing down I try to time it, both of us hoping our landings could be in sync. As I swing one last time I launch myself off of the swing, only focusing on not landing face first into the tightly compacted soft tarmac. My feet collide with the ground, a light sting spreading up my calf, but as I straighten up I laugh to myself. “Still got it.” I applaud myself, yet he isn’t stood next to me. Turning around he is still swinging, determination written all over his face as his tongue rests on the corner of his top lip, glasses now back on. “Come on Dan,” I joke as I begin to move around, blocking his opportunity to jump.

Blinking in mid laugh all I see is a mass of blue coming straight for me. Before I realise it a pain spreads through my back as a heavy weight rests on top of me, both of us moaning and groaning like we are too old to do this, which we probably are. He lifts himself up off of me, sitting down in front of me as he eases me up, a few clicks and I’m back to normal. Sitting opposite each other we laugh, neither denying the fun of being a kid again, even if it was momentary.

The rest of the morning we have together we spend talking in hope, rather than focusing on the harsh reality that lies before us. We go to the home of a kind family who let Dan play their piano, I sit and listen to him perform to me for the last time, the last time I can see the emotion driven into each line, into each rise and fall of his voice. I reminisce on our first phone call, where it took place in the cafe that is hidden away, only known by few. It was a place I felt comfortable, where I could be distracted instead of panicking about who I was talking to.

Walking back into my room I can’t avoid the bag that is now packed, how badly I want to kick it under my bed, ignore it and hope he forgets to go. But that isn’t the reality of this, no matter how badly we both want this to, we can’t win. I perch on the edge of my bed as it sits in the middle of my room like something alien that I fear to touch, to get too close to.

I don’t even notice him walking in, how he sits down next to me making me shift closer, the added weight that rests on my shoulders as I rest my head against his. “This is really it.” My mind has no other words, no comfort to provide to either of us, only the truth, the coldness that it is wrapped in.

“I know,” Moving away I admire his face one last time, knowing once we walk out of this apartment I will be returning solo. I simply bore into his eyes with more emotion and gratitude than words could describe. As I opened my mouth to say something in response I couldn’t find any form of wording to give. Everything I had hoped to say or phrase doesn’t sound right, the words I desperately want to say merely vanish, leaving me in a silence. “I know.”

Holding onto his bag I wished it was empty, or filled with clothes that needed washing. I wanted this brief journey in the car to be going in the opposite direction as if he had been on tour already and was now coming back to see me again, that the trip was over and instead he’d be returning to me, not leaving me. Pulling up the driver got out, the chatter on the radio that replaced our voices came to a halt as the engine switched off, yet I remain still. I stare straight ahead blankly as families smiled, rolling their suitcases into car boots or children who jumped up and down as their parents walked them towards the building. If only I had that amount of joy and innocence about the world.

Dan places his hand on top of mine, the look thickly coating his eyes as we climb out. He thanks the driver on our behalf as the cool air nipped at my ankles as the sky darkened, the end now nigh. We walked towards the building, the sound of wheels against the concrete filling the air as chatter of weather and flights surrounded us. I glanced over to him but his eyes remained forward, set ahead not meeting mine. Moving my hand closer to his I brushed his fingertips, effortlessly mine fitted into his and locked tightly.

The signs were now in sight, the noise of conversations I’ll never fully understand fill my ears in attempt to block out his goodbye, something I’m not ready to hear. His movement stops as does my heart in response, we both know it’s time.

Turning to face him my breathing became rapid, I could feel my chest rising and falling as I tried to hold back the tears that brimmed my eyes. “I didn’t think it would come so soon.” I released a watery laugh, unsure how else to cope. My eyes darted around to find a distraction rather than focus on his sad expression. The usual raised eyebrows and bright smile were drooped, lowered. “Before I start crying, or make this any worse I just want to say thank you.” Taking a deep breath I wipe my eyes with my sleeves that are now discoloured, permanently darkening. “You got me through some things, some bad things. And already I’m hoping we can meet again, as I can’t think of anything worse.”

His hand rises to wipe the tear that falls from my cheek, stroking the soft skin as I lean into his hand, not wanting to forget this. Lightly he said my name, my full name making my heart swell. “You mean too much to me to lose, I’ll be back. I can promise you that,” He place his hand under my chin, my eyes meeting his which held the passion, the care, the intense love. “don’t forget me, okay?.” He laughed lightly as he squinted, struggling to contain his emotions anymore.

I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, closing my eyes tightly I tried to picture us back in bed this morning or any morning. Slowly I eased my grip and placed my lips on his with such a force. The same old butterflies fluttered like newborns, fresh out of the cocoon. A rapid pace that created friction and sparks inside that didn’t die out. Salty tears mixed into our kiss, so full of love and sadness that neither of us wanted to be the first to pull away. But we did. We had to. Moving away from him I felt my hands slipping out of his, trying not to think about how this will be his lasting touch on my skin.

As he turned around I preserved his laughter, remembered the first glance at him I had, the first time we spoke on the phone, trying to tell myself to calm down. Now I had been with him, I was able to learn about his music, about the band I’d heard everything yet nothing about. After a week of adventuring, of living in the moment with him it is over as quickly as it began.

Watching him check in I hold back the tears as he carries his bag away, walking up towards the escalator and glancing back to me, one last time. He pauses as others pass him by, my heart freezes in my chest as I see him walk towards me. My mouth remains slightly open as I try to fathom the right words, but they don’t come.

I watch as he slips the jacket off, placing it around my shoulders. “A reason for me to come back, well another reason.” He laughed and a smile formed on my face, with a longing forehead kiss he turned around and quickly walked to the escalator, knowing the risk of staying, the longing to walk off back to a taxi and leave with me.

Once he is out of sight I can feel the crumbling begin, I pull out my phone and call Myla as I leave. The second she answers I break, and she quickly comes to get me. We both sit in silence as she drives us back, the occasional sniff as I tug on his jacket, the hugging of it on my shoulders not even comparing to his hold on me. “Listen,” She starts as I look out of the window, my broken expression reflecting in the dark. “he’ll come back, I know it’s hard for you. I know how much you care about him.” Her words bore into my mind, how much I actually care for him.

“I can’t put it into words, Myla.” I sniff as I face her, a concerned look plastered across her face. “I don’t want to admit it, I couldn’t tell him that I, that I-” The word felt like lead in my mouth, it didn’t want to shift, it refused to be spoken.

“Love him?” A smile grew on her face as she realised, as it sank in.

In my mind a flash of it all came across, the mornings when we would lie in bed, when we could talk about nothing and everything on the phone as if he were sat next to me. Things I couldn’t do, things I couldn’t talk about to anyone, not even Myla were easy with him. “I think I do.” A simple statement that has a colossal meaning behind it. It means I have too much of a feeling for him, one I know is reciprocated to a degree, “But it’s too late.” Leaning back into the seat I sigh. “I’ll have to wait until I see him, whenever that’ll be.”

final part