-Jodi Picoult
He was reaching for the pack of cigarrets,
and I felt how my fists almost breaks free to stop it,
he was desperate,
I could not take that away from him.
Through my window I had seen him for so long, how his face had changed. It didn't look that beautiful anymore, and I noticed the wrinkles that were forming like parenthesis around his mouth.
I remembered then, how I once dreamt of kissing his lips. Now they turned into half a smile, but it didn't touch his eyes.
He put the cigarrette in his mouth, held it tightly with his teeth. I felt how he broke free from my gaze, I hadn't realized it had been that strong. He blushed, and he was now looking at his feet. He looked so much older than he was.
When I first met him, I thought he was sixteen, so youthful, it was hard not to laugh when I was around him. I think it was fate, I was meant to meet him, but I was wrong to love at our first greet, it wasn't meant for us to be like that.
I felt in love with his smile, and the way he talks, and how words sound so much better when he spoke them. He was interesting and very good looking, a handsome criminal.
Thirteen months after that first encounter I found him in this state, this not so happy him, desperation was obviou sin his face, and the way he wore his arms around himself, trying to hold it together, I guess.
but I could only guess, he wouldn't talk about it, he wouldn't let me in.
but it didn't mattered how much he tried to push me away, I was here to stay. I knew him so well, he was just like me. It felt like looking at myself in the mirror, and actually admiting defeat about how I felt.
He actually broke my heart, more than once.
they said I was stupid for letting him do that much to me, but I wanted him to do that, I wanted to be a part of his happines much more than I wanted my own. I just didn't realized that we both couldn't be happy.
He once had held my hand, and my heart it almost pumped out of my chest, red blood invaded my face and I was... happy, but it didn't meant the same to him as it meant to me. And he was part of me as I was his, just not in the same way.
And now I was looking at his face for any sign that I wasn't wrong for letting him go like this. Without telling him, keeping it safe behind my lips, close to my soul.
But I didn't found any sign of it, he was heart broken and messed up for someone else.
Four months ago, she had left him, and it made me feel sad, angry and hopeful.
I hated feeling like that, I hated her for doing that to him, and I hated fate for not making him for me. I wanted to say I hated him, but I could never ever hate him.
I took a step closer to him, and I knew he felt nervous and uncomfortable with my presence now that he knew that I was completely and irrevocably in love with him. Despite the hurt of his rejection, I held my breath and hugged him, for the last time. I took in the smell of his collar and hoped it would stay in my mind forever. He tried holding me back, but he didn't know if he should. I knew his every thought, I could read his face, his moves, his everything.
That's how I knew he knew I was in love with him, not because I have told him, but because he figured it out on his own.
It took all my efforth not to cry while I kissed his lips, but I have to admit a few tears broke away and ran down my face. I smiled, half heartedly. He smiled back, that image should forever stay with me, haunting my dreams and making brighter my every morning.
I walked away, and then I noticed it was raining, maybe a sign, I hoped.
"It is not broken, but it sure has a crack"
