How Could I?

TW: Sensitive content (cancer, death)

I stare at Asher for ages, taking this precious time alone to memorize the sight of his face. I study the curves of his body and the smoothness of his exposed skin. The freckles that dot his neck and shoulders create galaxies across his body–galaxies I long to explore.

He is asleep on the bed next to me, dreaming about beautiful things like crystal oceans and pastel skies. Maybe he dreams of adventures or melodies previously unheard. He could dream of anything, but not me–no, he would never dream of me.

He does not adore me the way I do him.

We are not lovers but we are not friends, either. We are something different, special, and unique. Something in-between.

Asher keeps my bed warm and is there to hold me when I come crashing down. For him, I wipe his tears away when he cries and bring him back to the ground when his frustration takes him away. We satisfy each other’s desires when we must, but we never kiss. Not yet, perhaps not ever. His lips are the forbidden fruit of my soul–the one thing I could never have for myself.

There is some kind of love, but not the kind I yearn for.

We met this past year when the sun was blazing and the air was thick with wrong ideas. We spent that summer with a group of mutual friends, running wild and making terrible choices.

When the wind began to pick up and the heat turned to cold, our friends coupled up and left us alone. Asher and I found each other out of necessity–we both needed someone to keep our winter nights warm. Out of that necessity, though, I found something beautiful and rare.

It is nearly spring and I fear that he will leave me. To him, I am a partner of convenience–one he can leave easily when the next enchantress arrives to take him away on a new journey.

I don’t want him to leave. Before him, my world was dull and gray and completely boring. But Asher was new and he creates color in anything he touches and, suddenly, I found myself lit up from the inside out. I loved him for it. 

We talk often, of course, but we never talk about our deepest feelings. I’ve never confessed my true feelings for him. How could I? If I told him of my adoration, he might be scared away. I do not know if he feels the way I do and I could never risk losing him to such a thing. I’d rather have just a small part of him than have none of him at all. For now, this affair is enough. 

My eyelids begin to grow heavy and I allow sleep to overcome me, relishing in the warmth of Asher’s body next to my own as I drift away into peace.

He wakes before me and cooks me a decadent breakfast of french toast and fruit, paired with smoky bacon and golden eggs. I smile at him throughout the meal, completely smitten with this magnificence of a man.

He flashes back a smile that makes my heart flutter in my chest.

Asher goes to work after breakfast and I do my own from home, missing his presence all day long.

Maybe it was naive of us to move in together, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Asher made every day wonderful. He was energetic and optimistic, full of brightness in the darkest of hours. I have struggled for so long to find a place where I belong, but it turns out that it was a person that truly felt like home.

I haven’t gone to church since I moved away from my parents. But today, I pray that Asher will stay with me forever. I beg and plead for his everlasting presence. I cannot imagine living my life without him anymore. How could I?

We went on like that for another month, Asher and I engaging in our lives as the world around us continued to spin. It was all so fast outside, but when I was with him, time came to a stop. Nothing mattered except for us. It was everything to me.

I think somewhere along the way, we did fall in love. We never said it, no, because that would destroy the blissful ignorance we had put up. It’s better this way, after all, loving without telling. There was no fear, no obligations to uphold. When the word “love” is spoken, it brings along a threshold of expectations and commitments that can startle the most delicate of people. I felt love and I believe Asher did, as well. We just never said it.

And he still never kissed me.

For a moment, I believed that we could make it. It seemed that Asher had no intent to leave me as I had feared, but I did not wish to get my hopes up in case fate disappointed me after all. Sometimes Asher seemed too good to be true, and part of me was always going to believe he’d disappear one day. 

But he never did.

A year passed–he still hadn’t kissed me–and we were happy. I’m sure he would’ve kissed me eventually, had he not fallen sick.

It was cancer, stage four. Terminal.

I stayed by Asher’s side as he underwent the chemo, as the doctors pumped him full of drugs, and as his hair fell out and his body began to fade. Even when they told us it was over, that there was nothing more to do, I stayed with him. I was devoted to him no matter what. I did not know if he would have done the same for me but I also did not care. Because I loved him, and that was enough. I would never leave him. How could I?

I stare at Asher as he sleeps in the hospital bed, weaker than ever. He was dying, I knew it.

Slowly, I approach him, watching his chest rise and fall in unsteady breaths. He wakes when he feels my presence, and for a second, his eyes are void of the pain they’ve held in the past months. He places a hand on my chin and pulls me in, our lips colliding in a beautiful, electric, deeply tragic kiss. His lips were dry and cracked but they were the most perfect things I’ve ever felt.

How I have longed for this kiss…

He pulls away, a sacred smile on his face. “Selene,” Asher whispers. “I love you.”

At that moment, I could feel my heart shatter into a million pieces. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t muster a sound. I watched in silence, unable to say those bittersweet words back as the heart monitor flatlined. 

Our first kiss…and our last. 

My soul has never felt so broken before.

Time may heal almost anything, but I knew that Asher’s words would haunt me for the rest of my life. For so long, I wondered if he had felt the same–yet when he finally told me, I couldn’t say it back. Words that I would’ve killed to hear had killed me instead.

I cannot believe I kissed him. All it did was open up a whirlpool of misery and grief for myself. How could I?