the lens of this night finally finding its focus.
And everything falls away again.
It’s him. And it’s me.
As it’s always been him and me.
Whispers pass around, confusion.
He swallows hard.
There’s gravel in his throat?—
“Feels like I’m losin’ you.
“And I’m not lettin’ that happen.”
I open my mouth to say?—
you had all night to not lose me, but you chose to win a bet, chose to make me jealous, chose to prove a point, chose them, and it’s too fuckin’ late?—
but my voice bails.
I shake my head, not moving.
And me not moving breaks his heart.
He shifts in place,
shifts closer to the mic,
more nervous,
more desperate.
“Please, angel. Come save me.”
His fingers curl around the mic,
the only thing keeping him standing.
“You got me beggin’.”
Sweat drips from his temple.
“Stand right here with me,
“so I can fuckin’ breathe.”
My heart thumps.
Andthumps.
Some prick laughs.
Two girls whisper behind cupped hands.
Andrew’s not moving.
