This is fiction. However, I wrote this when I was heartbroken and this was a sudden idea I had. The emotions and characters are real. So is the truck.
The pain felt like someone had punched their way into my chest and grabbed hold of my heart. I felt a hard squeeze every moment and my stomach was like one of those rollercoasters that made you want to throw up. There was this sense of loneliness that I had never felt before. It left me winded and tired. How was I going to move on if there was always this hole in me that would never heal?
"Run away with me." His voice boomed in my head as I sat alone in my dorm room, clutching a pillow that held no connection to him.
"I can't." It was a word that he had grown used to hearing. A word that he never accepted.
"Youcan. I have enough money to keep us going for a while, so we can figure out how to live. We can do this."
I remember feeling his calloused fingers grab for my hands. The warmth that emitted from him made my heart heavy and I never wanted to let that feeling go. I was soft and he was rough, but he held me gently, trying to get me to agree.
I shook my head. I had nothing left to say, no other argument left to defend. He knew what I was going to say before I opened my mouth anyway, so I might as well save the energy.
"I love you. Please." His voice broke – just about breaking me.
I knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I felt that deep, dark feeling in my bones. I knew he meant every word, every touch, every look. It was the look that always got me. His blue eyes were so incredibly blue, I wanted to spend forever staring at them. I wanted him to look at me like that for the rest of my life. He saw me in a way that I would never see myself. To him, I was everything. A fountain of joy and pleasure, a girl unlike the others. I had never felt that kind of love from someone. It was almost otherworldly.
I wanted him with me forever. I loved him too. But those words caught in my throat. I couldn't say those things to him when I knew there was no future for us. I couldn't break his heart more than I already had.
I remember, of all things, the background. I saw his truck, a dusty red that was probably bright when it was shiny and new. It was his grandfathers, and he had fixed it up to make it run decently. It had no air conditioning, which was a horrible feature in the Texas summer heat. The seats were a plush faded red, and the only thing that didn't require a jump start was the stereo, where he blasted Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. The back of the truck was full of all his belongings. Even now, with the new lavender air freshener in my dorm, I could still smell it. I could still smell the truck, how it smelled exactly like him.
I remember that I pulled away, letting go of the warmth that I wanted to wrap myself up in. I said no, again and again, until he finally gave up. Which took longer than it should have. He never gave up that stubborn streak. I watched him walk away. So beautiful. He had long black hair, it was always smooth, but it would stick out in different directions when it reached his chin.
He was going off to the army, to be brave and manly like he always was. I could see him now, in that uniform. He would look even more handsome than he already was. He would fight for what he believed in – a freedom that we were so lucky to have. He was a protector, and he had loved me with all the kindness and gentleness he had in him. But I couldn't lose him to the army. Not when I had lost others who were courageous like him.
I cried myself to sleep for the next few nights. I felt the ache so deep that it made the bed shake while I was curled into a ball mourning what I had lost. I gave him up. I knew I had to do it, but I hated it. More than anything, I would always hate giving up the boy in the Guns and Roses t-shirt. Letting him go would always be my biggest mistake.