Memories in Slow Motion

Memories in Slow Motion

And I wish you weren't worth the wait,
'Cause there's some things I'd like to say to you.

I lied when I said it didn't hurt. I lied when he told me it was over, that I'd be better off to forget. I lied when I said I didn't love him either.

But he lied, too.

He lied and then he showed up at my door three months later, a fucking wreck. His fingers were raw and his nails were broken, as if he had been clawing his way out of a locked box. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, but when they fell onto my carpet, I saw his orbs were glazed over. Only this time it wasn't drugs. His beautiful eyes were like marbles, swimming in tears.

It hurt when I felt his fingers tracing my face, looked deep into his eyes. It hurt after wanting it for so long; it hurt that I didn't have the power to say no. All I'd wanted to do for the past month was wrap my arms around his neck. And now I was leaning into his touch like a scene from a bad movie.

I wanted to say things, things to hurt him as badly as he hurt me. I wanted to scream and push him away and lock myself in the bathroom. But I couldn't.

Because when I looked in his eyes I realized I could kill him and he wouldn't hurt as badly as he was hurting now. He was hurting like me.

"I-I . . . never wanted to . . . to hurt you." he managed to whisper.

"I know." I kissed his forehead and wrapped my arms around him. "But it's okay. You're here now. It's going to be just like it was before."

He shook his head and pulled back for a minute, staring straight into my eyes. "No, it won't."

"Bert . . . what are you talking about?"

"I'm dying, Gerard." he said. "I have four months left."

"No!" I pushed him away from me. "No! You can't! You can't come back here and tell me that! We love each other. It's supposed to fucking last forever! It's not supposed to last four months!"

"Gerard, I--"

"No!" I burst into tears and put my hands over my ears. "No." I whispered before I turn and ran to the bathroom, locking the door and leaning over the sink, staring at my reflection.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to last forever, or at least until we were older. It wasn't supposed to end before either one of us turned thirty. He wasn't supposed to come back and tell me this. We were just supposed to kiss and make up.

Why is it always so fucking hard?


I'll never forget what I saw. I'll never forget how peaceful he looked when I slid my hand down his face, closing his eyes forever. I kissed his cold lips and closed my eyes, all of our memories dancing in slow motion behind my eyelids.

It hurt, but it would have hurt more to pretend. It would have hurt more to go through those last four months trying to smile and pretend the only reason I had to live wasn't gone.

I grabbed his hand as I laid down for the last time.

I didn't cry.


We found them together. Bathroom door open, an empty bottle of pills, two lovers dead on the floor.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It had taken them months to find each other again and less than a day to insure they'd be together forever.

We laid them to rest together. I argued with anyone who wanted them somewhere for whatever reason. I did everything. They were owed that much, to have someone they knew make their final arrangements. Hell, Gerard was my fucking brother.

Mahogany caskets, a joint headstone. They would have gotten married if the world were different, if they were different.

Everyone cried. Except me. I couldn't and I didn't know why. I held my mother's hand while she sobbed and I hugged people I hadn't seen in years. I smiled at their stupid stories, their memories. They never understood it. They never understood who the two of them were.

They never would.

But when I got home I found two black roses on the front step and that was when I finally cried.