#xinan

                                It was silent, but louder than anything and everything you did, will, or ever will witness. He wasn't like you, and you knew that for a fact. He was different from the rest, with his fair skin and  his even fairer eyes. His skin has been everything but fair since then, and his eyes are only full of gloom and sadness. The once happy and joyful spirit has been nothing but quite a literal ghost to everyone he holds dear.  He is sad. He is sad because he know's he'll leave you soon, and that there is nothing he can do about it. 

                                He came with a barcode tattoo a very few words. He came stuttering, sputtering his words and falling over his actions. He came silently in a sweater vest and pants, the one's you owned but never bothered to put on. He came in with a whimper, but left with a bang.  You knew that you would love him since the very moment you met him. You knew he would stick with you till the bitter end, but you didn't expect the end to come so quickly. 

                                He tells you he loves you, and you know it to be true. He tells you, but you know part of him is holding back. The moment he stops holding back is the moment you know your love for him is simply growing truer and truer with the passing moments. You really truly loved him. Fair haired, pale skinned, speckled, freckled and dulcet. Nothing but happiness came through your doors whilst he was with you, and happiness was what you got.

                                Something in your mind told you that it was wrong to love him in the way that you did. Something told you that it wasn't good, but it felt good when you caressed the soft skin that encompass his body. It felt good when you kissed him with your lips, and it felt good when he murmured sweet nothings into your ear almost continuously. It all felt too good, even though you knew that you were up to no good. 

                                It hurts now. It hurts when you're with him and it hurts when you're not. It hurts when he touches you and it hurts when he doesn't. It builds cobwebs in your mouth when you hear his voice. The same voice that used to lift you off of your feet is the same one that brings you down. You wish him the best, you really do, but all you can do is go through the day with your stomach in knots and your mouth full of cotton. 

                                He barricades himself in a world of books while you barricade yourself in a world of good company. The company, they comfort you. They tell you that time will heal your wounds. The good company tells you that he'll make it through this, and that you and he will live a fairytale life-style. Others have the audacity to tell you to get over it. Others wish you and he ill will. Others laugh at you, and tell you that he was a freak of nature, and that he was going to be shot like the wild animal he was. 

                                You can't help but think that this might be the best option. You damn yourself for even thinking it. But once you get around to thinking, it would put him out of his misery, right? That's all you want, is for him to be happy again. All you want is the cobwebs out of your mouth and the hole in your chest to be filled once again. 

                                Things were never like this before. Before, you would hold each other and tell each other about how much you loved each other. You would remind him that he was amazing in every way possible, and he would do the same to you. You can still remember the first time you told him how you felt. It was something you won't forget if you tried. 

                                " Hey, Jhoni, " You always called him Jhoni. 

                                " Hm? Yeah, Xink? " He always called you by your first name. 

                                You look away from the stars that seem to pave the way out of this place. You look away, and you see him lying next to you. He took your dads truck, and you took your mattress. You both had this crazy idea that the sky was as clear as it would ever be that night, and maybe you could see the Milky Way if you both drove far enough. You never did drive far enough, though.

                                You giggle lightly as you feel your face heat up and your pulse race. It's amazing that he can do all of that to you without even being aware of it. It was amazing that him alone got you so wound up like this. You roll over, not to the side opposite of Jhonan, but right on top of him. The entire scene had a type of quiescent, and it was absolutely 

                                " I love you! " You say, as he lay there with a love-struck grin plastered to his features. You could only imagine the plethora of thoughts that were racing through his head. Hopefully, they where good. 

                                Jhonan was at a loss for words. He knew that you loved him, but only because you had to love him. For some odd reason, this seemed almost too pure for words. Maybe it was the way you rolled on top of him so carelessly. Maybe it was the way you smiled at him, but all you knew was that his face was redder than a dying star against his fair skin. 

                                He was your dying star. 

                                You make your way out of the bus and walk- more so saunter towards the house that held the small family. His small family. Your small family. 

                                You are so utterly defeated that you can hardly bring yourself to walk over to him and see him for the last time. You are so deeply and truly in love with him, that you can bring yourself to even see him in this state. 

                                But he is still smiling, right? He's still there. He's still Jhonan. He's still breathing. You throw your bag to the side, and collapse against the couch, where he is parked for now. 

                                You rest your head on his chest and listen to his  limp heartbeat. The simply thump reminds you that he's here for now. It reminds you that he won't be going anywhere right then, but with each heartbeat came a new sense of disarray. 

                                With each shuttered breath and each timid beat, came a growing feeling of uncertainty. Each breath and each beat threatened to stop. Your heart sank after each and every moment, but it rose back to the top as soon as you felt it again. 

                                You knew that they would stop. You know that you couldn't fool yourself with each passing second. You know that soon he'll be leaving, and he'll be taking you with him. 

                                You're happy, but you're sad. You want to die with him, but you don't. You love him for fighting for you, but you hate him for fighting so hard. You're tired, but you're not. You're fine, but not really. You can't talk to him, but you can't not talk to him. 

                                He is in your head. He is your hair, your eyes, your fingers, your heart. You daydream about the times when he was well. You daydream about what he is doing, thinking, seeing, smelling, feeling. For every thought, he came up. 

                                But now, for every thought, a lonely hum in your brain is where his name, his face, his smell, his feel, his everything used to be.

                                It was almost like a bad joke. You knew him all your life, and you never knew anyone else because of him. But you know that you brought this upon yourself. He tried meeting different people, but you held him back. He didn't complain. He told you that you were good company. 

                                There is no remedy for a broken heart, you know that. There is no remedy for a memory. His face is like a melody, it won't leave your head. His heart and soul is haunting you, and it's telling you that everything is going to be fine.