Quarter Mile

Goodbye

Dakota sat on the steps leading up to his front door, chin resting in his hands. It was two thirty and Beck hadn't shown up yet to pick him up. He'd been waiting since seven o'clock, starting off inside at the kitchen bench, checking his phone every five minutes. At nine o'clock, he'd moved to the couch, flinging his body over the side, legs dangling in the air. At twelve, he'd made himself a bowl of cereal for lunch, glancing out the window every time he saw movement. And at one thirty, he'd shuffled his way outside, sitting down on the cold, hard concrete steps.

His mother watched him kick loose stones off the steps from inside the house, concern furrowing her brows. When the rain started, she made her way outside and sat down beside Dakota. He leant sideways, resting his head against her shoulder, just like he had at the lake with Beck.

"Do you love him?" She asked.

"Yes," Dakota replied without hesitation.

"How do you know?"

"Because seeing him smile is the only thing I ever want to see, even if it's not because of me." He paused. "Almost-love hurts, mum. But if anyone could be my almost-lover, I'm glad it was him."

They sat together in the pouring rain, hair and clothes getting soaked but neither of them cared. She knew what he was feeling, she'd been through it herself. It was a helpless feeling, seeing her child go through something so painful without a way to ease any of it.

At four, Dakota moved inside, heading up to his room and changing out of his wet clothes. He slumped onto his bed, feeling numb. He wanted to cry, but no tears would come. So instead, he grabbed Beck's notebook and flicked through the pages of drawings, smiling fondly at the memories flooding from the paper. He closed the notebook after admiring each and every drawing and tossed it to the end of his bed, preparing to give up on Beck and go to sleep.

But as he leaned back against his pillows and got comfortable, a corner of a piece of paper sticking out of the back of the notebook caught his eye. His fingers wrapped around the notebook again and he opened to the back cover. A singular folded piece of paper floated down onto Dakota's lap and he inhaled sharply at the thought of what it could be. How had he missed this when he first looked at the notebook?

Slowly, he unfolded the paper and a tear dribbled down his cheek as he recognised Beck's handwriting.

Dakota,

The most fucked up joke life can play on you is letting you meet the right person at the wrong time.

You came into my life at a bad time, when I truly hated who I was and what I had become. I was broken, damaged and fading. But you saved me.

From the first moment we met, it was not love at first sight exactly, but familiarity. Like: oh hello, it's you. It's going to be you.

I want you to promise me one thing. Promise me you'll live your life. You have to chase the things that ignite you and make your colours bright. Surround yourself with people that bring out your light and remind you where home is. You have to do the work to heal yourself, even when it hurts. And it will hurt — it will hurt a shit ton, but you have to heal in order to live your life without the boundaries you have set within yourself.

You have to be unapologetic in the way that you exist in this world. Without worry, and without fear. You have to believe that your ideas and your hope and your being and your purity deserve to take up space. You have a purpose.

I want you to know that I'm going to love you forever. Even if I can't see you or feel you or hear you, I will love you.

You're going to be fine. You're going to get into Yale or Princeton or Harvard and you're going to nail whatever you decide to do. I know this because you're brave and you're strong. And you don't take shit from anyone. The world doesn't stand a chance against you.

You're my star, Dakota. You shine brighter than Cepheus and Cassiopeia. You fill me with so much of your own brightness that sometimes it's hard to see. But I'll always look for you. I'll always look for your brightness and I'll never let go of it.

And I'd choose you. In a hundred lifetimes, in a thousand worlds, in any version of reality. I'd find you, and I'd choose you. All you have to do is be you.

I hope we find each other again and I hope we're laughing and sharing memories about that one time we almost made it.

Almost. God, that's such a shit word, isn't it Dakota?

Please don't forget about me and all the things we did.

You're my everything. Thank you for making me feel things I never thought I could feel.

I love you.

Yours and only yours,

Beck.

P.S. Always remember we're under the same sky. I'll be looking for you in the stars.

Dakota held a hand to his open mouth as sobs racked through his entire body, causing his bed to shake underneath him. Strangled cries escaped his mouth as the paper fell from his grasp and his other hand clutched his heart. His mother rushed into his room, engulfing him in her arms. His body betrayed him, growing number and number with every breath he struggled to take. His mother cradled him, both of their hearts breaking for different reasons.

His eyes finally dried at quarter past six as he forced himself downstairs to eat a piece of toast. The bags under his eyes would make anyone believe he hadn't slept in weeks. Dakota had received multiple messages from Parker asking if he was okay, but he'd ignored them. He didn't have the heart to explain anything.

As the clock hit eight o'clock, Dakota thought back to the last thing Beck had said to him.

I'll see you, Dakota.

Not 'I'll see you tomorrow', or 'I'll see you in a week', or 'I'll see you in six months'. Beck was gone.

And Dakota knew that even though their love was strong and amazing and confident and powerful and forever, he wasn't coming back.

Ever.