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The flowers died on Monday.
Rin gave them to me on a Friday afternoon. Was it because I did not take good care of them? I treated them the same way he treated me, with tenderness and apathy. Perhaps it was, or only because he died on a Sunday. It didn't have much significance, I mean, that he just happened to die on a Friday; our favorite day.
If it were up to me, I would sacrifice every single part of myself to go back to those nights, nights filled with love yet a harsh air. Playing horror games until midnight, finishing the perfect date going to sleep with a horror movie on the back.
That rough expression on his face which I called a smile was for me. It was not for his cell phone, not for the sky nor at the broken picture frame with his big brother— For me, just for me.
I never knew if he was in love with me or with the ideal he had in his head. After all, our relationship was never formalized; it was too simple to put it in such complicated words. We weren't lovers, we weren't a couple, nor friends with benefits.
I can say it was even more intimate than that. More like a mutual agreement, silent like most of our conversations.
Being with Rin was like being surrounded by a gentle breeze; it always brushes against the branches but never manages to bring them down, only a storm can. We were each other's comfort, and the intimacy we would never even dare to show the world.
Being with him was never difficult; the only thing that was difficult its the fact that neither of us wanted to let our guard down. You wanted to protect something, never ourselves, but our future, that vain yet tragic future you had in mind since the first day we met. Rin, that was your true nature, wasn't it?
I won't deny that there were no arguments, sometimes I came home too late, then he would ignore me for days— weeks even. Waiting, yearning for an apology, like the one he could never have from himself. Maybe I was too naive, maybe he was too damaged.
But both of us were, in fact, naive and damaged.
He would give me those forget-me-not flowers. He told me they were popular these days among lovers. But I think the reason for its popularity was its meaning, a heartfelt flower that I wasn't a gift, but a plea— like timeless emblem to not be forgotten.
With that sweet blue color and a gentle yellow at their core. And a sour yet fruity taste invigorating to the touch.
Everything was solved with that bouquet. A damn bouquet of flowers.
I could never express to him what I truly felt, what I had always longed to tell him. How much I dreamed, desired, and hoped.
Oh and it burned, it was like my whole body was on fire, but it wouldn't stop. It was as if someone were slashing my throat. Some wouldn't have noticed, but he wanted to say something, too.
Maybe we were just two cowards. Perhaps. But I still remember the cold, rough touch of his hands, his hand covering my mouth and vice versa, a tender gesture full of secrets. That not only made my heart surrender, but prevented me from talking.
So this is who you really are, my naughty Rin. A selfish creature who can't love without exploding. The funny thing is, that you succeeded; I can't stop burning for you.
Knowing that it was me who couldn't love you. This bouquet of flowers forces me to burn you, and every single memory that haunts my mind. But I can't have myself to do that, because I didn't have the guts to tell you the truth.
To tell you the harsh truth slipping down my forearms. I didn't have the confidence to protect you, nor the eyes to look at you in your worst moments.
The flowers were the only gift you gave me, and I never gifted you anything. So I'll let those same blue flowers decorate your grave, and guide you on your way to the afterlife. Because in the end, you decided what was meant for both me and my twisted mind.
I'll die on a Monday, just like you on a Friday, my dear Rin.