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He had this look in his eyes. It was strange, like a black hole sucking his existence until there was nothing left but an empty void. He told you not to worry and would whisper sweet nothings into your ears, but you knew there was something, and tonight was one of them.
You had your legs tangled in between the sheets of the bed; the warmth that was once beside you was now cold and abandoned. You watched Daisho leaning against the window, as the midnight stars bathed his body in silver. He looked like a lonely Greek god, fallen from the skies because the way his eyes glimmered so vulnerably at the sight of the photo in his hands said so.
"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry", he muffled into his hands, afraid that his tears would leak.
It wasn't the first time seeing him like this. On most nights, you'd witness him staring at the stars longingly, looking as though he was wondering if he was gawking at the same sky as that pretty girl in the photo. On some other nights, you'd occasionally catch him studying the familiar photo tightly gripped in between his fingers as he crushed his cigarette with his teeth. God knows how many times he stared at that photo like it was a sacred ritual. To you, he was simply a heartbroken boy with an unforgettable past crawled deep inside his bones.
He said he loved you, that he needed you, he swore it from the bottom of his heart but you knew that wasn't it. If you could, you wanted to reach out to him and spill flowers into his ears until his soul grew a Summer morning. You wanted to replace the black hole in his eyes with a universe filled with thousands of galaxies. You wanted to feel him, to have your fingers tingling the start of a spark, a firework. You wanted it, you loved him, but you couldn't.
