I suppose the only good thing that has come out of all of this is the fact that you do not have to learn what it is like to live without me, Lu. That was, precisely, all you had ever wished for. Even though your wish has brought me nothing but a life of misery, I am glad that you do not have to mourn like I do every day. I come to your grave as if attending some assembly that I have promised for. It has become my routine now. I would much rather go home and sleep within the comfort of your arms, but you are no longer there to smile at me when I open the door to our apartment. You are no longer there to kiss me when you see me cooking you your favorite meal in the kitchen. Where did you go, Luna? When will you be back? I know death is inevitable, but did you really have to leave me so soon? I am only twenty-seven. How am I to live the rest of my life like this?
Thinking of life now seems to me only a burden. I remember looking forward to every day of my little life but only because you promised me you would live it with me. How could you so easily break your promise, Luna?
It is not your fault, I know that…
My mother has insisted I come to her this weekend. She wants to know if I am doing alright. I told her I would take, perhaps, a few more days. She asked me why. I told her I wanted to leave only after I had said enough. But what is enough? There are so many things I had wanted to tell you, so many things I had wanted to whisper in your ear and so many things I still yearn to say to you. A day more could be enough, maybe. If I had a day more, I could find a way to take you away from this world, so death never reached you. I know, God, I know. Such a way to live does not exist. You would make fun of me had you been here…
Luna, do you remember the first time we met?
I do. I remember it so vividly. You know how my memory has always been too good. You had just moved in the apartment above mine. University years were ever so cruel to both of us, but it treated you worse. I remember seeing you walking down the stairs a few times before I decided I should get to know you. You looked too pretty to me. I wanted to tell you that. I wanted to tell you that your eccentric blue eyes came to me like a muse comes to poets and the tides comes to the moon herself. You would often have your hair either hidden under your hoodie or your headphones. Still, I could see the dark strands you left just in front of your ear. Your hair had been too black those days. I knew you had maybe dyed them, or so I thought. I would not have known for sure had you not told me yourself. I am a boy after all, and you knew me. You knew how I barely brushed my hair, but you seemed to have grown fond of them. You used to rest your hands on my head and you, ever so softly, twisted your fingers in between my dark brown tangles.
Anyways…I saw you run up the roof that day. I remember it was, maybe, an hour before dusk. The sky was as if an oil painting, crowded with flushed color strokes. The sun itself was an alluring sight to behold, but I was only ever infatuated by the girl who looked like a raven in front of an orange sky. I saw you stand at the roof and stare at the world beneath you. I had followed you like the fool I was.
I still think that it was the best decision I ever made in my life.
You stood with your hair open. They barely reached your shoulders. I approached you grimly and saw the way you stood with your arms placed on the brick wall.
“Are you alright?” I asked you, and you simply turned over your shoulder. I felt as if I were to choke. I felt as if my throat had given up on me. It was not because you were pretty. You were, but you looked so defeated I felt my chest cut clean into two.
“Who are you?” You spoke so softly. Your voice was barely there.
“Elios,” I said to you. “Can you step away from the edge.”
“I’m not going to jump, Elios.”
My name sounded absurd when it crawled out of you. Your timid voice maimed me only. I had wanted to get close to you that day. I had wanted to ask you what was wrong. Yet I left you to your misery. I sometimes find myself wondering, even now, that what fate would have bestowed me with had I stayed that night or had I never spoken to you again. Even the thought of that makes me scornful. What would an existence without you be like?
I suppose I have, now, my entire life to find out
YOU ARE READING
The Grave of You and I
RomanceAfter her death, Elios spends almost every day sitting at her grave and talking to her, teasing her and telling her things as if she were still here
