I knew it was going to be our last time before he did.
I memorized him as he raised himself onto his elbows to watch me get dressed, the dawn casting stark red shadows on his face. I'd told him I had to leave England the previous evening. He smiled at me a little, bittersweet and piercing. I fixed that in my memory as well. He was silent until I was nearly fully dressed.
"I'll write to you," he told me.
And I'll wait. "Don't."
He became entirely still. The building fire of the sun was reflected in his eyes, turning their blue to a blazing crimson. "What?"
Please, don't stay here and let me walk away, don't forget me- "Forget me."
I saw him try to keep expression from his face, one emotion at a time. He was never very good at that; every time he lied I could tell. "Why?"
Because I love you and can't say it. "Because I'll forget you. You deserve better than" me "this."
I was wrong. An emotion I'd never known he possessed obscured everything else from his face. It hurt me to look at it, so I didn't. He would find another, I told myself. He won't want me, need me forever. It's better this way. That mantra was what kept me sane as he asked me, "How?"
Like this, even if it kills me. "Like this."
I buttoned up my coat, turned the doorknob, and nearly bit through my lip when I heard his soft "I love you."
I love you too. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I "I can't let you."
Without looking back, I left.




I didn't let myself read his letters.