17 Last Times

⤹26❁ You

New chapter everyone! It's good to be back with some motivation. I just wanted to say that this book is slowly coming to an end. I don't want to pointlessly extend it. There will be a few more chapters, some carefree, some maybe shocking, but the last one will definitely be very much poignant. Everytime I think about the last paragraphs of the last chapter, my heart aches (I can't tell you whether in a good way or not). Thank you for sticking with me all this time xx

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"Ready?" Will's voice, full of excitement and anticipation, reaches my ears.

His hands are gently placed on my eyes, obscuring whatever's in front of me.

"Ready," I say, not one bit sure what to expect.

The warmth of his skin disappears from my face and so does the darkness from before my eyes as I open them.

"What am I looking at?" I question, absorbing each detail of a massive cork board, probably 6'6 tall and 5' wide, divided into two columns. It's got a lot of tiny colourful notes pinned to it.

Will gazes at the board with some inexplicable sentiment. "It's an interactive piece. I named it The Unspoken."

My eyebrows knit together. "Why this exact name?" I give him a quizzical look.

He runs his fingers along the notes. "Because it's full of the very last things people have said to someone they cared about, and it gives them the chance to write down what they wish they really had said."

My heart aches at his words.

My mum.

My dad.

Everything I could have said.

I inhale deeply, successful at fighting my emotions. "Have you put anything on the board yet?"

He bites his lip, looking deeply in thought. Eventually, he nods his head. "Right there." He points with his finger.

I squint my eyes, scrambling to read off the note that's pinned up high. It's the very first entry on the board.

I told her I would help her with the suitcase to move out of my place.

Now I look at what he wishes he had said.

I'm glad you decided to walk away from me. You deserve so much better.

The air in my lungs becomes peculiarly heavy. I glance over at him. He's not looking in my direction. His hands are in his pockets, moving restlessly, unlike the rest of his body.

"Do you. . ." I ponder how to put it. "Do you really mean it?"

His eyes divert to me. "Of course I do." He nods, emphasizing the positivity behind his statement. "Do you remember the moment in the hallway? When I told you that love isn't butterflies and that Nathan was a shitty boyfriend?"

I nod my head, recollecting that dreadful memory. It was also the day I wished he had kissed me.

Will continues, "I was wrong, Davina. I was so fucking wrong. I didn't even know what love is, and I tried to preach you upon it." He shakes his head, shameful. "But now I understand that love doesn't only have one form. It's different for everyone, and your love for me, as great and stubborn as it was, was not what I wanted or needed."

My breathing is calm and slow as I listen to him.

"Your love is sweet and gentle," he tells me with an appreciative smile. "And it's absolutely okay, because Nathan is the guy who can reciprocate everything you give." His lips stretch languidly into another warm smile. "Me on the other hand? I like it raw. That's how I want my love to be. Unrefined."

My eyes narrow slightly as I attempt to understand his words.

He lets himself segue. "When I met Emily, she was. . ." He ponders briefly. ". . . brutally honest and straightforward. She wasn't afraid to hurt me with her words. She didn't care what I'd think of her either. She was just truly herself whether I liked it or not, and I think this is what stopped me from giving my all to you." He gives me an apologetic but candid look. "You cared too much for me and too little for yourself, Davina. You were so scared of losing me that you became a whole new person. . . for me. And as much as I appreciate how fiercely you fought for us to work, I hope you understand now why I couldn't reciprocate it. I didn't understand it myself until I'd met Emily. Now however, with hindsight, I am positive that the only time you were really you was when you were with Nathan. You two are good together, so as awful as it might sound, I am so fucking happy you walked away from me."

I take one of the deepest breaths in my entire life, and with that breath, comes peace.

There were many times when my head filled with thoughts of me being a failure, a disappointment, someone who couldn't make it work. Now I understand that the blame wasn't in us. It laid in our maturity and self-development, which we finally embraced.

"Thank you for saying it." I wrap my arms around him, and it shocks him just as much as it shocks me.

We stand there for a moment, enveloped in each other's embraces, so motionless that we could be easily mistaken for a sculpture of some sort of broken intimacy.

At last, Will releases me from his arms. His eyes move towards the board.

"I don't expect you to put anything on there. I presume what you said to me on that overpass was exactly what you wanted to say."

I agree with a silent nod.

"Excuse me," someone interrupts. "I'm looking for the owner."

Will plasters a professional smile to his face and holds out a hand to greet the stranger. "You don't have to look any further." He turns to me. "Excuse me for a moment," he says politely and walks away with the visitor.

I pivot on my heel and look at the board. Having taken another deep breath, I grab two notes and a pen. I scribble down a few words, thinking about my parents and the last time I saw them — the day they came down the stairs and told me they were going out.

I said nothing. I write down, knowing that silence was the last thing they heard from me.

My heart aches when I finish scribbling. When they died, I wished they'd taken me with them so I would have died, too. Now having dealt with most of the grief, there is only one thing I wish I had said.

I wish I'd told them to stay.

~~~~~~~~~~

We get back to the dorms two hours later. As Will had promised, we had our coffee. It was good to be able to have a normal conversation that didn't involve any relationship related matters.

"Good luck on your date tomorrow," I tell him, genuine.

"Thank you, because in fact, I might need it. Emily's a very unpredictable girl. She's either going to fall for me or rip my head off."

I let out a cheerful laugh. "Wow."

"I know right. That's exactly what I thought when I met her."

We both chuckle away as we find ourselves in the corridor leading to his dorm.

He looks at me.

"You don't need to walk me all the way up the stairs," I tell him.

"You sure? I don't want to be impolite."

"I'm sure. Just go and get some rest." I smile at him. "Thanks for today, pal." I punch him in the arm in the most ridiculous and awkward manner.

He gives me a look of disbelief but mirrors my actions. "See ya, mate."

We laugh again and turn in opposite directions. I dart upstairs with some new energy bolting through me. It feels good. It feels good not to hate him. It feels great to be his friend again.

As I reach the destined floor, my forehead creases at the sight of someone sliding a note through the gap of my dorm door.

"It's you!?" I say, surprised, looking at no one else but as I assume, my cemetery friend.

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