The freckles. The scar. His long nose, his narrow eyes, the freckle in the corner of his bottom lip, the two bigger ones beneath his left eye.
The way he looked at me with so much affection that it hurt.
He was everything, my entire world, the final missing piece of my soul.
He was right here in front of me, and I would never see him again after this moment.
I love you.
You’ve become everything to me, and I love you more than I could ever say.
I can’t tell you because it’ll only make it harder for the both of us.
I can’t tell you because I’m a coward.
If I ever let those three words fall from my lips, I’d never be able to leave him. I’d lose myself completely when he learned of my betrayal and tossed me aside.
“Good luck on your test,” I pushed past the lump in my throat. I tried to smile and wasn’t sure how it looked. It felt as sad and pathetic and fragile as my heart.
He studied me for a moment, and I thought he would call me out on how weird I was acting, thought he would tell me to stop lying to him. But he just winked at me, leaned in with a smile, and kissed me on the cheek.
Right on my birthmark.
Then he nipped at it playfully and said, “I’m the luckiest man in the world because I’ve got you, darling.”
Oh, fuck.
There was a knife in my chest, and I wanted to leave it buried there. It hurt more than anything to not break down right then and there, to try and keep smiling until he left the room.
I thought I knew what pain was, but I didn’t. Not until I had to watch the love of my life walk away—the only love I had, that I’d ever have again—and bite down the overwhelming urge to call him back, to tell him all my truths, to beg him to forgive me.
True pain was having to let go.
True pain was regret and being powerless to change anything.
True pain was love. Being stuck with that love and having nowhere to put it, until it ate you up from the inside out.
The love became caustic, burning little holes through your entire system—slowly, over a long period of time. So slowly you didn’t notice until one day, you looked down at yourself and there was nothing there.
There were so many things I wanted to tell Dakota, there were so many past moments I wished I could somehow slip into with all the knowledge I held now—all thefeelingsI understood so clearly now, accepted so readily.
So many times I wanted to tell myself to do things differently, to say something other than what I had said, to give myself the truth and whisper to myselfHere. This is the only thing you need. Hold it close and never let it go. Share it with the boy who loves you most, the one that you love best.
I knew I’d never regret loving Dakota.
All the pain that brought me to him was worth it, in the end.
Who knew that watching a little boy play the violin when I was nine and he was eight would lead me to this moment? To all these truths?
After Dakota left, I climbed into his bed and clung to his pillow, breathing him in.
I didn’t want to lose this scent. I didn’t want to forget it, didn’t want it to fade from my memory over time like my mom’s smell had.
I sat up and slipped the pillowcase off, folded it up, and put it in a small plastic bag.
I’d find something to seal it in so I could contain that smell forever.
Then I started to pack.
