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he hadn't known it could feel like this, loving someone. he couldn't have known, really. he didn't think loving someone and being loved could be as painful as this.
how can someone who loves you so much leave you like that? is self preservation worth it when it feels like a piece of your soul has been ripped out, to never be sewn back together? how can you save yourself from pain by bringing other?
why do whispered 'i love you's' feel like a nightmare now, instead of a dream come true? was he supposed to not wonder if the pain he felt was mutual? if he ached as much as his other half, if he didn't feel like he was suffocating in his own feelings on his own?
now, thousands of miles away, he still could remember his lover's soft lips, fitting perfectly over his. his eyes, shining just for him. his heart couldn't take anymore, every single memory reminding him of the fact that he will never have them again. he will never have him again.
the scars that painted his arms were nothing compared to the ones in his heart, the blood pumping trough it leaking with every cut — cut, cut, cut, his heart felt every cut his soul gave with every reminder of what wasn't anymore.
a rushed out "goodnight" after sneaking out, the adrenaline rushing trough his veins because he could do this — he had reassured himself every time he had to leave before the sun came, the birds bidding him good morning, the stars mocking him.
he could do this, yes, but he shouldn't. now, he wishes he didn't love so easily. now, he's reminded that he had fucked up, ruined everything, by the sun, the moon, the stars. birds that flew with him now told him how idiotic he was, because it was never going to work.
blissful ignorance made the call, that day. kisses shared over breakfast, while the phone rang once, twice, thrice. then again, once, twice, thrice. blissful ignorance got him a broken rib, nose, and heart.
knocks on the door, one, two, three. again, one, two, three. the only sound they could hear being their love, leaving them deaf to the storm looming behind them.
steps, one, two, three. again, one, two, three. a kiss, then another, then another. a kiss, then another, then another.
he could do this , he'd told so himself millions of times. once, twice, thrice.
a door thrown open. a scream. one, two, three. a scream. one, two, three. a scream, and another, and another. their hearts, silent.
the sound of their love, deafening before, now became dull. because he couldn't do this . as much as he'd reassured himself, he couldn't do this. no love deserved such fate, but theirs.
how could physical wounds heal, yet his love could not? his crying, never ending. his bleeding, mixing with the other's. two lovers split in half by the storm.
screaming was not enough, because now, where love laid, was two boys, fragile, who did nothing but be different. two different bodies, with one soul, getting ripped in half by the same hands that made their bodies break.
physical wounds heal, but this could not.
how can someone love like this, that he let himself get lost in the storm? why did his heart give out for another boy, instead of a girl.
"i regret nothing"
"i love you"
"i'm sorry"
"i love you"
"don't come for me"
how could he, after hearing those words coming from blood stained lips — lips he'd kissed less than hours ago — let go?
two lovers split, their bleeding hearts, kissing each other goodbye. no promises of tomorrow. a soul, slowly dying.
"don't leave me"
"i love you"
"please stay"
"i love you"
"your walking trough that door, it means our soul will die, and our love too. how could you?"
what is self preservation when you're saving yourself from harm by hurting im other ways? is love really all if you're not bound by death?
he will not live with a broken soul, and a bleeding heart. goodbye to love, and goodbye to hurt. no pain will ever be felt, and maybe he'll see it again. the version of him, happy, in love, and sure.
he was sure now.
this was goodbye.
physical wounds heal, but this will not.