I told my friend that I loved him on the day that he died. The two events were unrelated, at least, I hope so. I told him I loved him and he smiled and said that he didn't love me back. He was sorry, see. He didn't love me back and then he walked into her arms and she plunged a knife into his heart and I'm never going to see him again.
Do you think it matters? At all? What we do?
She told me that it's going to be okay. She promised, as she held my sobbing curled up body, tight and wounded. She killed him and it's going to be okay. I'll never feel his hand in mine. She worms her hand into mine and maybe it's the same. Maybe it feels the same. Maybe this is what love is.
Could this be what love is? Is it the fragile warmth of her body, cozy and frail? Is it the way we limp home in the rain, body bump bumping on the cobbles, head smushing, each gripping one leg? Is it the way he now lulls in the chair, gazing sightlessly into the distance? She catches me staring and closes his eyes. Probably for the best.
I think we kissed, then. Celebratory in her eyes, a sad escape in mine. She had won. She sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around me and gazed down at me with her big blue eyes and whispered that it was all going to be okay. I don't know if it's going to be okay. I don't think it's going to be okay.
The body stayed on her office chair while we made out, the worst threesome. It stayed motionless and still. It did not respond in any way to her hands on my cheeks, then my back, then my front. I wondered if he would've responded differently in life. Would he have cried? Begged us to stop? Cheered? Clapped? Touched himself? He said that he didn't love me. He didn't love me. But he did love her and so perhaps jealousy would've kicked in anyway and he would've stopped us and maybe that could've been enough for me.
But he never will again now.
I can't do it. I cannot. I can't breath. I'm too hot. It's too hot. I think I'm dying. There's no air in here. She sees me to the door, all hugs and kisses and needy touches. The rain envelops me and for a moment I feel calm again, cooled off. But then I hear his whispers underneath the rain and know that I'll never be okay again.