The ocean in his eyes

Three

To him,

Never forget

You asked me to never forget you, but what I think you really meant was..... for me to not forget how you made me feel when I thought I couldn't have possibly ever felt again. How you kissed my lips with such desire, I never had to wonder if you actually loved me back. I liked feeling that way, like I never had to lay awake at night and wonder if I was still loved. I could never forget the way you hugged me, even when you knew I hated hugs and wouldn't fully embrace you in return. You hugged me still, as if you was the last time you'd see me.

Fuck this is harder than I'd thought.

I don't ever want to loose you, but god damnit if you ever leave I could never forget your scent. And how it felt for you to hold me, how good it felt when you traced circles into my back.... I'll never forget that you made me feel things I never knew were capable of being felt.

-Beatrice

//

Point of view: Beatrice

I watched him as he drank from the bottle of whiskey, chugging it like there was no tomorrow. Chugging it like he didn't care if he made it to tomorrow, and maybe that's what killed me the most. It was okay if I died. It wasn't okay if he died, because then that meant I'd have to die alone. And there's nothing more lonely than dying alone. I've convinced myself of that, maybe I'll start drinking with him. Maybe we will both die. Why am I talking about death?
"James. Slow down..." I said quietly, trying to grab the bottle from him, and he stopped for a breath. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, and he looked at me in the eyes, "don't bring this up again.... please, babe...." he muttered, gulping down some more, he slowed down this time, and say the bottle down, already half empty. "I don't want to loose you." He came closer to be, and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. "Who said I was leaving?" He asked me, and my vision blurred. I didn't answer, he wouldn't understand anyways. He kissed me now, and it tasted like how my dad always smelled.

"Babygirl are you okay?" He asked once he'd pulled away, I nodded slowly and he rested his forehead against mine. "Why are you crying then?" His lips touched mine again, I didn't kiss him back, but instead pulled away to feel my cheeks. I hadn't realized that I'd been crying before, "Beatrice..." he muttered, pulling me towards him, he hugged me tightly, and I wrapped my arms around his waste. "I love you." I whispered in his ear, and he kissed my cheek softly. "I love you more."

After a moment of silence beet me go, picking up his bottle again. He took a quick swig. "You don't love me mossst?" He slurred, laying his hand clumsily onto my shoulder. "I can't love you most...." I answered honestly, feeling a pang of guilt prick at my heart. I couldn't let myself love him more than he loved me because maybe he doesn't really love me at all and then I'm considered stupid for loving him back at all. Maybe I'm crazy, or maybe I'm just not confident enough. Either way, I think that it would all be better off if he loved me more.

It had been another hour and he was completely drunk. He was laying on the kitchen floor trying to tell me to get on the 'boat' with him. I sighed heavily, and tried helping him get off of the floor but instead he pulled me onto him, insisting that he had to save me from the aliens.

I hate it when he drinks. Although it is funny sometimes, I find it hard to see it humerus when he's drinking his life away.