We Only Breathe For So Long

72 hours, 55 minutes.

And still counting. That has been the exact amount of time that has gone by since I last saw him.

I kept asking myself the same question, wondering how I knew if this was love or not. But I didn’t have an answer to that question. There hadn’t been one specific moment. It was like gradually waking up. You go from being asleep to the space between dreaming and awake, and then into consciousness. It’s a slow process, but when you’re awake, there’s no mistaking it. There was no mistaking that it had been love.

I fell in love with the curves of his shoulders, the angles of his collarbones and the softness of his lips. I fell in love with his cheekbones, I fell in love with every eyelash, every freckle.

I fell in love with everything.

The flaws and scars were part of the package. I knew what he looked like when he was tired, happy, sad, and angry. I knew what music he liked, and how he liked his coffee to be in the morning. I fell in love with him. No one else, just… John.

Sobs were the only sound that my voice insisted to repeat. Each sob brought its own quantity of tears, some with more tears than sobs while others not as much. And that happened whenever I thought about his name, since I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud.

Two, out of the three days, were spent not so wisely as I locked myself in my room, shutting any kind of human contact. Eric had camped outside of my bedroom door, insisting me to come out and talk to him every now and then. But I wanted nothing to do with him. All I ever longed to do was stay in bed and cry. Cry until I fell asleep so I could attempt to forget it all for as long as I could.

I was trying so hard to forget about him, I really was. I constantly fiddled with insignificant things around my room and spent most of my nights by my computer, surfing the Internet or reading a book. Sometimes, I would get so caught up in a good book, that I would forget it for a couple of seconds. But a couple of seconds wasn’t enough. That very own feeling I had been experiencing for the past days, would submerge, reminding me about something momentarily forgotten. It’s hard to forget someone whom you’ve imagined spending your forever with.

Life doesn’t hurt until you think about it, how much things have changed, who you’ve lost along the way, and how much of it was my fault.

I didn’t remember the last time I took a shower, or even got out of bed as a matter of fact.

Why did people call it being heartbroken? My heart did ache, in every single muscle that belonged to it, but so did my body. My ears recalled every time he had whispered caring words to it, causing it to itch. My waist recalled every time he wrapped his long arms around it, causing it to hurt. My hair recalled every time he had played with it, causing it not to be touched. My lips recalled all the countless times his lips touched it, causing it to prefer the salty taste of tears.

I always thought that movies were highly exaggerated. The girl, usually a decent one, would fall for a boy and at first he might’ve not caught her, but after he does. Then they would get together, and begin to live in another world where all that matters is their love. Much sooner than the girl expected, he would leave her due to his faults, which were continuous but she would forgive him every time. Before, that seemed pathetic in my point of view. I always questioned her reasons, why she would ever go back to him.

You can never understand why people do stupid things for love, unless you, yourself, experience how it is to be in love.

But here I was, in my bed, barely able to see from the consequences of crying, as my puffy, red eyes got bigger, and my body not willing to get out of bed any longer. All I was missing was a pot of ice cream and a marathon of Friends, and this could be classified as a movie scene.

Except that this wasn’t a movie scene. Heartbreaks in movies are accurate; they hold nothing but the truth in those scenes. The only lie in it is how they present it. In reality, heartbreaks are much worse than what the television portrays it to be.

I tried multiple times to get myself together but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was as if my body wouldn’t obey me, because it had forgotten how to do anything else but weep. It was too hard to let it go, because in the back of my mind I still believed that someday we would get our second chance.

I had a strong desire bulging up within my heart, wishing almost so desperately that I had never crossed paths with him. There would be no need to want a human being so deeply and consecutively no need to cry when love is only present in one side. No need for heartbreaks, nor the pain and tears that came along with it. There would be no need for everything he did to make me feel like absolutely nothing.

All I didn’t comprehend was how he could’ve done something so cruel towards me. I wasn't naïve, I knew he looked like the ‘player’ type the moment I saw him. But I didn’t want to be too quick to judge, I actually gave him a chance to step into my life and prove me wrong, because I thought maybe he’d be the one to save me.

Because I believed I could see in his eyes, that he was in love with me.

Yet this entire time, my life has been as artificial as a forgery of a masterpiece. What I didn’t comprehend above all was that we had never slept together, not even gotten closer to that stage, so why did he keep the lie going for so long? Why did he come into my life if he was planning to leave someday? As much as I wanted to know the answer, I didn’t want either. All I wanted was to get rid of this horrible feeling that cultivated itself the more thoughts travelled through my mind.

I heard a knock on the door, for the millionth time. But only this time, the door actually opened. By the cricking sound of the door opening slowly, I raised my head up in wonder of how such could’ve been possible if the door had been locked. Eric came into view.

“How did you do that?” I barely spoke, my voice was almost gone from the dehydration and lack of use.

He locked the door behind him, “Angela had a spare key that she only managed to find now.”

I dropped my head down to the wet pillow, hoping my action would’ve showed him how much his presence is unwanted. But he didn’t receive the message.

“Go away,” I said, ready to cry some more. “I don’t need your pity. I want to suffer on my own since I deserve it.”

I felt his weight on my bed as he sat down, a good distance away from me, not looking directly at me since he didn’t feel like it was the right thing to do. “I want to help you, Kylie. Pay back all the help you gave to me.”

“Don’t be pathetic,” I spat. “That’s just an excuse for you to stay.” My tone had been offensive, almost arrogant. He didn't say a word after that. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, my voice almost as soft as a breeze.

“It’s okay,” he said, without denying my previous statement. “Don’t feel sad over someone that gave up on you. Feel sorry for them, because they gave up on someone who never would have given up on them.”

“Inspirational quotes won’t fix me.”

He chuckled softly, hoping to light up the mood. “You’re not something broken that needs to be fixed.”

“Real feelings don’t just vanish out of thin air.”

I knew I should be over it, but I wasn’t. It still haunted me every hour, as the biggest reminder of my mistakes and the consequences that followed it.

He stood up, kneeling down closer to me as my back faced him. I didn’t want him, or anyone, to see the hideous state I was stuck in. “He doesn’t deserve you,” his hand touched my back as an attempt to comfort me. “If he did, he would’ve never done something like that to you. Look at yourself. Crying over a jackass. You deserve way more than this Kylie, you’re so fucking amazing. You could be doing something useful, but you aren’t. Everyone is so worried about you because you never come out of this room. One day, you’ll have to come out one way or another. The difference will be that you’ll waste time if it’s later rather than sooner.”

I turned around to face him, my tears finally ceasing as I blinked the residue away. “Do you know what it feels like to be left? Because I do.”

He nodded his head, pausing before continuing his little inspirational speech. I guess you could say Eric was the one person that managed to get some sense into my head, no matter how thick it was.

“But I’ve lost someone who wasn’t even mine,” I continued, wanting to give him reasons for this pathetic phase I was dragging myself into.

“Why do you tend to make all of this so complicated?” he asked, looking up to me. “If the person you love, doesn’t love you back then just let it go. But if you think that person is worth fighting for, then fight for him. Stop crying and blaming it on others or even yourself. Stop letting yourself get hurt, because your world doesn’t revolve around him. Take a lead in your destiny and do what you think is right. You can’t hold on to one thing forever, just let it go before it kills you. It’ll get better, I promise.”

I knew every word that had departed his lips had a fair amount of truth in it, but I wasn’t ready to let it all go. “What if we were meant for each other?” I longed to believe in those words. I needed to know it could be possible, that maybe this was just a phase and he would eventually realize he was wrong in doing such.

Eric gave me a half smile, starting to take pity on my situation. “If it didn’t work out then maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

There was a long pause, I was just waiting for the burning sensation to invade my nose so I’d know the tears were about to return, but it never did.

He looked at me with passionate eyes as he sat beside me. “If I were him, I’d never let you go.”

He was leaning in closer. I didn’t know what to think or do since my one and only action has been crying, I had forgotten how to do anything else. His lips met mine as I tried to think about what to do in return.

As my paralyzed lips responded to his kiss, his lips moved from mine to my neck, the spot right under my ear. I completely turned around, placing my arms around his neck. He leaned in once again after he gained his breath, his gaze so full of passion that I almost melted through it. I held my voice in, not wanting to groan out loud. I threw my head backwards, feeling his lips and the sensation it brought ascend my neck, barely feeling his fingers wander at my waist.

He lifted me up, allowing me to wrap my legs around his waist. He carried me through the bed until we reached the middle, letting go of me as my back hit the bed. Sooner than I realized, he was on top of me while my legs remained wrapped around his waist and his tongue explored my mouth.

Eric stopped, repelling away from me as if I had burned him with my touch. “I can’t do this,” he said out of breath. “I can’t take advantage of you when you’re an emotional wreck, as much as I wanted to.”

My lips felt raw as the shade of red slowly vanished from the spots his lips had previously touched. I nodded in agreement. “You’re right.”

There was a pause. Eric hadn’t moved an inch from his initial position. I looked around the room, waiting for him to get off of me. When my eyes met his, I felt my lips brush against his lips once again in one sudden motion. This time it was more intense and rapid as if time was running out for some unknown reason.

His arms wrapped around me in an enveloping embrace as I pressed myself against his magnificent body. I could feel the force he used as he brought me closer and closer the more we deepened our kiss. A mischievous grin crept onto his face, as one of his hands ran down my leg. His lips met my neck again, making me stretch my neck, moaning in pleasure. I pulled his shirt away, revealing his muscular chest.

My breathing was heavy as he continued to kiss me passionately, his and my tongue dancing to a perfect rhythm. I flipped myself up on top of him, causing him to grin madly. Before I got the opportunity to indulge myself in the softness of his lips, a knock erupted, making both of us jump in fright.

“Dinner is ready,” Angela shouted on the other side of the door.