Bonu

“But I love you."

I look up and stare at the eyes that claim to love me. They're dark and empty and that unsettles me. I want to see the eyes of a broken man. I want to see shards and pain and desperation, but all I see is a solid wall I can't look beyond.

"I love you," he repeats.

I sigh.

"Yes. Maybe you do. I don't have a better word than love, but it's not the way I've known it to be like. It's not a love that builds; it's the kind that breaks and destroys. It's fierce and with a need so burning that I'm afraid we'll exhaust ourselves in the end. We go on like a house on fire and probably will collapse like one too.

No,we're not the kind that get drunk on night outs and blush when our friends comment on us. We're the kind that frown because the other said something they were not supposed to. When staying out late, we're not the cute fridge magnet messages type; we're the frantic texting, upset, spoiled plans kind.

And when I come back home, we don’t peck and talk about how the reunion went.

You yell at me for being irresponsible. You yell at me for stuff that doesn't make sense and I throw things at you because I've reached the breaking point. I shout at you to stop suffocating me. You shout at me to get out and I grab your favorite vase and smash it against the wall before storming out.

I sit by the stairs of our apartment building, shaking with rage. A second later you’re out, jamming your thumb in the elevator button and rushing after me. In the haste you missed my form sitting here. It looks like you're going looking for me in the streets.I don't stop you. It fills me with sick content to see the desperation. It sucks for you too and it's almost like your distress compensates mine.

And that’s when I cave in.

Within minutes I'm howling as it hits me what we've become. My mind's a blur. Tears... torn apart... tears tear you apart. A hoarse chuckle escapes me at the untimely pun and then just as abruptly my face contorts into a sobbing mess again.

The phone rings. It's you. I don't pick up. You call again. I don't pick up. It doesn't feel real, the perky notes of the ringtone echoing off the blank walls punctuated by my sobs. That song used to be your jam when it first came out.

You're texting now.

Please.

Where are you??

Please, where are you? I don't know what's happening just please... where are you?

I'm scared. Please. It's fucking killing me. Where are you? Please.

I haven't replied to a single one. I don't know if we can ever salvage what we had.

Voice message received.

You sound scared. Your voice is trembling and judging by the croakiness, you've been crying too.

I take a deep shaking breath and text you. I tell you that I've been here by the stairs all this time.

Less than a minute later, you're here. Dragging me up and hugging me tight, gripping me, not letting go. Even when you finally do, you clasp my hand, holding on like a lifeline.

And me? I can't let you go either.

 I don't know how to put what I feel in words, but yes, I love you too.

I do.

It wrecks, but who said wrecks can't be beautiful? We burn and crash  and crack but it's us. That's what who we are. Maybe someday we'd get tired and it won't work anymore, but maybe-s  are a thing of future and the present is a beautiful storm I don't want to save myself from.