Floral And Fading || Jonnor AU || EDITING

Part Three - Stay

You told me you hated me in an argument, and for the first time in our history, I believed you.

I don't know if it was the way your eyes went icy and your stare became cold, the way you suddenly became remorseless and refused to let me speak until you had finished telling me everything I'd done wrong over the past few months that had spanned the space between our last big disagreement or the way you stormed out of the house after I couldn't explain myself.

I know you don't understand why I couldn't tell you the truth, and I know that this argument will be completely forgotten by the time you read this, but just so you know, I hated lying to you, I hated every cursed lie that had ever left my lips to be received by your ears.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about where I was, but I couldn't bare to let you know that I was walking around an unfamiliar town with tears threatening to ruin my reputation because my mother and father didn't care that their only son was dying, I knew they wouldn't, but it hurt me no less to know the outcome before the event.

The words my mother spoke are running around and around and around and around in my head again and again and it seems ceaseless and it's only been a few hours.

"Get over yourself, it's probably just AIDS, you bought this upon yourself, I have no sympathy for you."

I have no sympathy for you

You bought this upon yourself

It hurts, it hurts so badly.

Whilst you were yelling at me telling me how useless I was, how unfair I was, how worried you were about me, there was a knot in my throat begging to come undone, it was only because I could hear the love behind all of the yelling, and I felt so guilty about breaking your trust.

"Did you cheat on me?"

Your eyes began to water at the word 'cheat' and your voice broke on the word 'me', as if the very idea broke you, as it would to me.

I tried to answer you, but the words got caught underneath the knot that was refusing to leave, and was instead tightening around my vocal chords making words almost impossible.

You repeated your question, refusing to look at me with your red teary eyes that I imagine stung like fire.

A small and hoarse "no" left my lips, it was barely audible, but enough.

You asked why I lied to you, why I told you that I was with Tristan when I wasn't, why I couldn't tell you where I was.

I shook my head and told you quietly that I couldn't. And that was it, just as my mothers words are carved into my mind, so are yours.

"I hate you, how can we work if you keep secrets from me, you'd think ten years together would mean something to you, you'd think we'd be past this point by now."

Then you left. An icy harshness falling over the house as I broke down without you. Once the door was slammed I collapsed to the floor in tears, bringing my knees to my chest and crying in to them, wishing I could tell you everything, but knowing that this was for the best.

I didn't know if you were coming back and that scared me, it scared me to the point where I contemplated suicide right there and then, a life without you, isn't the life for me.

I got a text from our mutual friend Brad saying that you had ended up with him for the night a few hours later, it relieved me that you were safe, but it scared me that you were with Bradley, a notorious home-wrecker and slut, and I knew what you were like when you were hurt.

Vulnerable, gullible and stupid.

I text Brad to look after you, I told him to make sure you slept well (and not with him.)

I told him to make sure you came home in the morning.

I went to bed after the small exchange with Brad, completely forgetting to write all of this down until I woke up at two am, cold, alone and hurting. I knew I had to write this all down, I had to make sure you knew that this happened when I left, in case it caused any unwanted tension that carried through into our future, if there is one after tonight.

I'm also thinking that perhaps a daily entry doesn't work for me, not particularly, I feel as though you'll catch on eventually, and I'll run out of things to write, so I might move this from daily to monthly, unless something of significance happens and deserves its own page or two, I'll see.

I just want you to have the best memories of me when I'm gone, and whilst this wasn't the best memory, it's one that will inevitably change something, perhaps we'll grow stronger because of this, perhaps we'll drift away from each other, it's all a waiting game.

But isn't that all life is? A waiting game?

You wait for your first kiss, then you wait for you to lose your virginity, then you wait for the one, then you wait for proposals, marriage, kids, illness and finally death, isn't that all how this sick little games played?

And all my waiting now has to be condensed into three years. Everything I want to do, In three short years.

I need to marry you, I need to see you truly happy with me, walking down the aisle, I need to dance with you.

Brad text me again around 3am and that's when I realised I needed to go to bed, but not without opening the picture he sent me, and I'm glad I did.

He sent me a picture of you curled up on his couch, a cover pulled haphazardly over your chest but your milky white skin poking out the top, your face was clearly red from crying and you seemed troubled, even in your sleep, and I wanted nothing more than to be there and kiss you to say sorry, I wanted to be the one to take that photo, I wanted you to be here with me, I wanted to be there with you, and i know it's going to fuck with me for the rest of the night, you being in his house, with him and not me. It terrifies me, the thoughts of what you could be getting up to, I know you wouldn't, but you could, I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep until you come home.

As always, since I didn't get you say it to you in person tonight.

I love you so so so much honey, sweetest dreams, goodnight.