We Only Breathe For So Long

What felt like a lifetime later, Eric opened his eyes.

“Oh, thank God,” I whispered to his ear as I tightly hugged his body closer to me, rocking back and forth in relief and gratitude to the man upstairs – for bringing him back.

My tears had wet his hair, just the tips at least. I took quick breaths in, slowly moving my body away from his so I could look at him properly. When I looked at him, he was staring oddly at me. His eyes didn’t contain any sort of emotion, they were blank and focused on me, but they still blinked.

I just stopped worrying about the fact that he could’ve been hurt or dead. And I just stared back, my tears were slowly drying up and leaving my face sticky, as I kept sniffing my nose.

“Eric?” I said softly, afraid I could have shocked him with my words amidst the silence. With my fingers I pushed the few strands of hair, which had fallen upon his face, back.

“Kylie,” he spoke. His voice lacked moist, as if he hadn’t spoken in years.

There was something about the way he had said my name. He didn’t say it in a polite manner, with no emotions attached and with a clear pronunciation like his new-self did. No, he said it with a confidence to his tone, almost implying it was a question because he was never quite sure if he should call me by name or not, or if a name should hold as much emotion as mine did when it departed his lips.

Like his old-self did.

My heart beat a little faster, my eyes opened a little wider, and shone a little brighter when I fell upon the realization that I was really talking to my Eric. I smiled in content, so wide I thought my cheeks would fall from my face any time. I chuckled in disbelief, grinning like a child during Christmas’ Eve.

“You remember, don’t you?” I asked him as if I didn’t know the answer to the question already.

He nodded his head. The more he nodded it, the wider his smile became. I threw my arms around him, launching us both deeper into the snow, not caring this time if neither of us would freeze from the cold. I didn’t even care if I choked him with my mighty hug, or if he couldn’t breathe from my weight on top of him. I just closed my eyes as I felt my constant smile ponder on my face. I felt his arms wrap around my waist as he breathed in deeply, smelling my hair.

“I remember you, crystal clear.” His words were muffled as he leaned his head deeper over my shoulders.

“Do you remember everything?” I parted away from his embrace with my hands still holding his forearms. I could see my reflection through his almost see-through, piercing, ocean-like blue eyes.

He paused, searching his mind. He shook his head in denial, a bit disappointed with his results. He remembered me, but not his actual life. It didn’t make sense, and I totally didn’t understand how that could be possible. If he remembered me, shouldn’t he at least remember all the people we both shared memories with? What are the odds?

“Is that even possible? Is that even a good thing?” I asked him, frowning as uncertainty about what everything meant flooded through my veins.

He chuckled, looking glad to be able to understand how I functioned. “Does it matter?” he asked, leaning in closer until our foreheads touched. He closed his eyes and smiled sweetly. “I remembered the best thing about my life.”

He opened his eyes. I could see my own eyes being reflected through his eyes. Not only did I feel, but I also saw how I looked at him. I didn’t look at him the way I thought I did, in a leveled manner, maybe even polite and nurturing. I looked at him with desire and awe mixed together. As he leaned in closer, I let my emotions give in, even if I were to regret it later.



The darkness in the sky was haunting the sunlight away. Eric found a box of matches, lighting up the fireplace in the second living room.
I stood up a little from the blanket that was wrapped around me, propping myself slightly up from his leather couch. “Do you remember this house?” I asked, hoping I would get a chance to have all my questions answered. He nodded his head, knowing where the conversation would end up going. “Why do you have two houses?”

He seemed to lose himself in thought for a couple of minutes, elaborating his answer. He sat by my feet on the rug, supporting his elbows on his bent knees.

“I don’t want people to know this side of my life. I don’t want people thinking I’m a rich asshole that can buy his way to the top.”

I nodded, understanding. In today’s society, that would happen. Eric is handsome, intelligent and funny. If rich were added to his pros, people would assume instantly that he was a prick that could get anything he wanted by bribing to everyone.

“Don’t be upset, I never told you about it not because I don’t trust you. I do, entirely. You’re not upset, are you?” he asked me sincerely, looking up to meet my gaze.

“I am,” I said, making him drop his head and sigh in frustration. “But if I were you I’d probably do the same. The difference would be that I wouldn’t hide it.” I said with a smirk.

He smiled, happy I could relate to him. He began to stare at his hands, smiling the further he thought about what to say next. “It wouldn’t work if you tried to hide it, you're too pretty and smart not to be rich and off of the market.”

Blood flushed one thousand miles per millisecond up to my cheeks, turning them crimson in color. At that precise moment, I wanted to cuddle the hell out of him.

“But that’s not the real reason why you hide it, is it?” I asked, knowing him too well to be content with part of his reasons.

He sighed through a chuckle. “Why would you say so?”

“What’s wrong with being rich, handsome and smart? If it were a crime, Hollywood would cease to exist.”

We both laughed, enjoying each other’s company and the warmth coming from the fireplace.

His face shifted from being cheerful to solemn in a matter of seconds. “My dad is a very rich man. Well, was.” I squeezed his shoulder for support, knowing it would be something hard for him to share. He reached for his shoulder and held my hand, leaving it there as he drew invisible circles on it. “He has a fortune, he was most likely in the top ten of the most richest men in the whole world. He was assassinated because of it, as most of them in the list are.”

He spoke in a manner that wasn’t hurtful, because he had gotten over the terrible lost of his father, but it wasn’t content about it either. It was almost pitiful, like he missed and regretted his father’s absence.

“I inherited his entire fortune, he didn’t want to leave it with Jane because he knew they could throw her off of the game just like they did with him. Growing up, we never knew about our true wealth. The only people who know about it is my mom and I. Sure, we were wealthy but not wealthy enough like the money my dad had could provide us. My dad always hid it away, protecting the entire family from any disgrace to happen because of it. And when he left, and the money was entirely mine, I couldn’t live a normal life either. I’d have to hide a portion of my life away just like he did for the past 58 years. I don’t want anyone to hurt my family just because of something as unimportant as money.”

He paused and I refrained speaking for a moment. “That’s hectic, having such a big weight on your shoulders,” I sheepishly said.

He nodded his head, letting go of my hand. “It is, but I’ve gone used to it,” he smiled to me, “we better go. It’s getting late.”

We got in the car. I went behind the wheel and drove while we talked about all that had happened during this week so far.

His laughter filled my ears as we joked about silly things, lifting my spirit up and making my heart feel lighter and more content with itself.