Forbidden (jason mcCann fanfiction)
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- Parts 32
He grabbed my hand and shoved me up against the wall "Let go of me!" I spat "Your leaving me?" He asked calmly with blood shot red eyes Years welled and spilled from my eyes, he was no longer the boy who would wipe them away with his thumbs and kiss me to say 'it's gonna be ok' he had changed and I knew that as well as him. "What makes you think I will stay with someone who doesn't give two shits about their girlfriend?" I spat angrily His furious side suddenly bursted "The fact that I still care, I was sending someone to watch you every second with me gone, I was always aware of the things you did. I still care and even then I did" he roared with rage. "Non of that means anything to me anymore" I spat at him I jerked away and he harshly grabbed me again. I violently pushed him away and he didn't touch me after that. He walked to the dinning table, he threw everything over. He flipped the table causing the glass to smash. He threw a gold material into the window as they all smashed with anger. "Non of this means anything to me without you!" He spat He got a match stick and some petrol, I knew what he was thinking already. My eyes widened. "Non if this shit matters anymore, I don't need a fortune, a perfect life because there's a huge part missing when your gone! I don't want to live the pain again of being so lonely. Of loosing something I've already gotten the most addiction for. If you leave. It means your agreeing with the consequences" he said tensely with the most serious expression I could have ever discovered.
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A few months ago, I bought a mug with gold gilt. On sale. Not a gift either nor because of an occasion to remember by it. Just plain, pretty mug for 15PLN. I drank my coffee from it since. I spat loose tea leaves into it. It never felt particularly significant. An ordinary object. Only when I lost it, I realised its true value. I sat comfortably at my desk one evening. Looking at my phone, I reached to take my song-text notebook. Trivial situation. My clumsy fingers were unable to avoid the mug. They allowed it to topple over, to slip from the desktop. Even though I did not see the split-second occurrence, I felt the pressure of unease. My head painted the trajectory of the fall on its own, the shattering, spillage. The loss. For a millisecond I still had hope, that I would be able to catch the mug, that I would be able to avoid what was about to happen. But I knew I was headed for failure. I don't have any superpowers. I only scalded my fingers. I looked at the mug's new shape for a long while, at the shattered pieces. At the spilling liquid. Our adventure came to an end. Irrevocably. I won't be drinking coffee from it anymore, nor spit tea leaves into it. Well. I shouldn't be sad, it was just a regular mug, just like thousands of others. I grew to like it, it kept me company throughout hundreds of warm drinks. I lost it. I hate this feeling the most. In the moment when I am losing something, I stop in my tracks, I hold my breath. It is always a very intense moment. A short one, but one that gives me the tight unpleasant feeling in my stomach. The feeling of loss is always accompanied by hope. Silly and naïve. Making me believe so strongly, that I can make it. That I will still be able to catch the mug mid-flight. When the feeling is entering the body, crawling into me I realise, how important it was to me. Whether it's Nivan or a stupid mug with gold gilt.
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