doomsday

six: one last time

when you open the door to a cold Thursday evening and find me shaking on your doorstep, you're not sure how to feel.

each feature of your face softens slightly as you drink in the sight; half-dried tears frozen on my cheekbones, wet clothes sticking to my skin, and desperation crawling out of my eyes.

the black early August sky is the perfect backdrop for my next sin, and you grow wary once you realise it.

you tell me you don't have time for this.

I tell you that this is the last thing I'll ever ask of you again.

it doesn't seem to work. you sigh, run a hand through your hair, then ask me if I know what tomorrow is as if you've mistaken me for a fool.

well. I guess you wouldn't be wrong.

I choose my next words carefully. I draw in a breath, shaky and dramatic, making it seem like I'm struggling to hold myself together.

and then I beg.

one night, I plead. a final goodbye and you'll never see me again. I know I don't deserve it, but I swear I can make it worth it.

I promise after that I'll let you go.

my tears burn down my cheeks as I try to explain how I still reach for you every morning.

how you're still the best part of me. and how I don't know how to stop searching for you in every crowd.

I watch you crumble, following the length of your arm as the door eases to let me in, and hold your gaze as it slides along my body.

my thank you is rushed when I step inside, cut short when my eyes catch on the woman smiling behind glass, lining your hallway and shelves.

that diamond should have been mine.

you tell me her name. that tomorrow it will be yours instead.

I tell you that I'm happy for you. your eyes travelling to my wrist tell me you don't believe me.

your next statement slices through me, and you fight the smile crawling onto your face as you watch me try to keep myself together.

I know she gives you everything, I say slowly.

And I know that you've got everything, but I've got nothing here without you.

I want to add that tomorrow I'll give you my soul, but the golden cross glinting on your neck shoves the words back down.

(I don't know what I'm living for if I'm living without you.)

before I reach for the wet zipper at my back, you ask me why I'm still holding on.

even my therapist hasn't found the answer, I joke, dragging it down my back and peeling each layer off my skin.

I remind you that some people are worth everything, my love.

that brings your smirk back.

I return it, then head off to the bathroom.

your questions are hanging heavy in the air, but I can't bring myself to tell you the truth.

----

later, I watch your chest rise and fall next to me, fighting the tears burning the back of my eyes.

the room is a soft grey, and your hoodie is warm and comforting, but despite my surroundings being perfectly calm, each panicked thump of my heartbeat feels like a timer.

and I'm just counting down until it goes off tomorrow.

so, as I lay here, memorising every detail of this stolen moment, I trace my fingertips over your heart and try to convince myself I don't care who holds it.

it doesn't really work.

it's selfish and wrong and I know it. I don't deserve you.

but I would give anything for you. to show you that she is never going to love you as much as I do. that I would move heaven and hell to have you back.

cause I don't want to be without you.

your limbs jerk in your sleep, pulling me out of my head. I relax my muscles and try to breathe out my fears.

because even if tomorrow the world is ending, at least I got to have you in my arms one last time.