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It all started with a fight, or at least that’s the best lie they could tell themselves. It was something juvenile, the kind of argument that shouldn’t last more than a few ticks of the clock, yet it acted as a catalyst for their frustrations.
It was less yelling and more passive-aggression; sad eyes watching from across the room and suffocating silence pressing down on every corner of the house.
By the next day, Lottie tried apologizing. It was a mindless argument, not worthy of ignoring and resenting the other over it. She tried her hand at baking Nat’s favorite desert, an olive branch disguised as an excuse to be in the same room again.
She expected Nat to scoff, roll her eyes lovingly, and agree to talk about the problem until it resolved. Instead, Lottie’s hope of reconciliation was shattered as soon as they sat down together in silence.
“This isn’t working.”
“What... Isn’t working?” Lottie inquired.
“This,” Nat gestured between the two of them, “Us.”
“I’m sorry, Nat. It was a stupid argument and I shouldn’t have gotten so upset over it. But we’ve had worse fights and—” Nat can feel Lottie’s thoughts melting together, panic evident in her tone. Instead, she interrupts, trying to steer the conversation in her desired direction.
“That’s the problem, Lottie,” Nat began, “The fights. I can feel both of us growing tired of them.”
“So your solution is to break up? Without even trying an alternative?”
“If we try alternatives we’re going to end up running in circles. You know it too.”
“So instead you propose breaking up, in the off chance that we can’t work through it?” Lottie started getting agitated, wriggling her hands and picking her nails nervously.
Instead of answering, Nat let the silence stretch around them. It felt like any words were suffocated out of them. Nat gently interlocked their fingers, averting her eyes, glancing everywhere but at Lottie.
“Can you promise me something?”
Lottie could only hum in response.
“Tonight. When we go to sleep. Whichever one of us wakes up first has to leave and never look back.”
Regret flooded Nat’s entire being as soon she uttered those words. Lottie tried protesting, but it was futile. The chance of mending the relationship was over before it even began, there was no changing Nat’s mind.
So, instead of spending their last day together arguing all over again, Lottie agreed in spite of her heart breaking like shattered glass.
Nat’s reasoning was that they were bad for each other, well on their way to mutual destruction. Lottie believed they weren’t defined by their worst moments. They love each other like the moon loves the tides, eternally locked and bound to each other. But it wasn’t enough. Is it ever?
The sky wept with them; as if even the celestial beings didn’t want to see them apart. That day, they mulled over the decision over and over, hoping to reach a different consensus, but to no avail. The decision has been made, clean and concise. The breakup wasn’t mutual, how could it ever be? Lottie would’ve died a million times if it meant holding Nat close, even for just one more day.
That night, they go to sleep embracing each other as usual, as if the impending heartbreak is merely a nightmare they can easily file away, never to be thought of again. They try to talk normally, jokes and sweet nothings thrown back and forth. But no matter what they discuss, it lingers in the back of their mind like a ticking time-bomb.
Lottie gently threads her fingers through Nat’s hair, lulling her to sleep. She knows the decision wasn’t taken lightly, it weighed hard on both of them. But she can’t help the blossoming hope that Nat would decide otherwise, come the morning.
It is foolish of her, Lottie knows that well. Yet it is the only train of thought keeping her sane, well enough not to break, and wither, and cry all over again. And yet, despite everything, she takes the breakup into consideration.
The pain is immense even while holding each other close. The dissonance is dizzying; but, after all, love cannot exist without grief. To love is to suffer, to adore is to mourn. To think otherwise is absurd.
But Lottie is unwise, according to her own current thoughts. It seems irrational, hoping to wake up first. Being the one to leave isn’t easier than being the one left. She dreads having to untangle herself from Nat, both physically and emotionally.
But, above all, Lottie is selfish in her own way. The hope of getting to hold Nat a few more minutes and kiss the sleepy frown on her face is the only thing she takes into consideration. Lottie wants to imprint the sight and the scent of Nat into her memory, keep it alive in her mind for as long and accurate as she can.
After all, the torture of remembering the ghost of them is better than the heartbreak of realising she forgot the sound of melody of Nat’s laugh or all the hues coloring her eyes.
Her mind keeps on replaying every argument and petty disagreement that brought them to this point. Would anything be different if she kept her insecurities deep in her mind instead of voicing them? Had she not said the wrong thing in one of their fights, would that be one less reason for their departure, one step away from their breaking point?
She knows it’s pointless to think about the what-if’s, but as reality would have it, that’s all she would have left soon.
A part of her refuses to believe it’s true. They will wake up together tomorrow, and they will spend the day tangled together in bed, making plans about a future far away. They must.
But the rational part of her knows better. Tonight the air feels different, like it knows something they didn’t have the chance to utter yet. The night feels final, muted, even the fauna is silent in a mourning stance.
She kisses Nat again, slow and soft. Unhurried and gingerly, as if the morning will wait for them, frozen just at the right time.
Nat embraces Lottie tighter, tracing her features with trembling fingertips. Tears bloom and wither at the edges of shut eyes, and even the sky weeps and strikes for their tragedy.
Nat pulls away first, she can’t swallow the sob that leaves her lips anymore. She buries her head against Lottie’s chest, her pleas and cries wracking her body uncontrollably.
She struggles voicing her words, but manages to time them just right between the sobs. “Promise me.”
“Promise what, baby?” Lottie’s voice breaks on the last word. Both of them pretend not to notice.
“That you— you won’t forget me,” Nat inhales deeply, voice shaking, “That even in five years, I’ll still matter to you.”
“You’ll always matter to me, Nat,” Lottie gently caresses her face, “Look at me, please.”
Once Nat glances up, Lottie’s words die in her throat, gutted by the bright green eyes staring back at her through soaking lashes. She struggles to swallow down a sob.
“No matter how many decades pass, I won’t be able to stop loving you. Not now, not ever.”
“You don’t hate me for this?” Nat’s voice trembles again.
“I don’t. Even if you killed me, I would still adore you.”
“I’m breaking your heart.”
“It hurts me more to see you break yours.”
Nat just nods and lays her head back down on Lottie’s chest. She has so many things to say, and a lot more to apologize for, but the tremble of voice won’t stop betraying her. She doesn’t want to make this harder.
So instead, Nat muffles her cries and listens to Lottie’s rapid heartbeats. Tries to imprint them to her memory like a melody that used to be her favorite, that now only holds nostalgic glimpses into her past, and feelings that are too complex to name.
She only blames herself for reaching this forsaken point. Because all Nat’s ever known was running, making herself so small no one notices she’s there until it’s too late.
She’s the one who chose to ruin them, but not for the lack of trying. She could feel the exhaustion beginning to seep through both of them, yet neither was brave enough to want to name it. They were on the path of self-destruction, and with each fight it would only worsen.
Every time Lottie looked at her with those eyes full of love, Nat would instinctively take a step back. She is always waiting for the other shoe to drop, hurting someone before they can hurt her, leaving before she can be left. She can only hope she gets to glance at Lottie one last time, blissfully unaware of the giant gap in Nat’s heart, mimicking the one left on the bed.
So, she’s letting Lottie go as a final act of love. Instead of letting the flames of her past swallow and spit out everything around them both, she only let it light her with a stray spark. Just enough to keep Lottie at a safe distance, just enough to make sure the bridge between them collapsed in a pile of ashes, even if it comes at the expense of her own bleeding heart.
Nat glances up and finds Lottie asleep, snoring softly above her. Tears well in her eyes again; How is she meant to let go of someone she loves so much? She found happiness and hands cradling her with such genuine care, yet it got ripped from her so violently by the ghosts of her past.
Guilt starts gnawing at her brain, she regrets it tremendously. The knowledge of an ending before it happens is torturous, so much so that Nat almost wishes she never uttered that sentence. Almost.
“I love you so much, and it scares me,” Nat’s whispers melt into the wind, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make this right in time.”
Lottie sighs in her sleep and Nat embraces her tighter, as if she can stop the inevitable if she holds on for long enough. How will she be able to survive the rest of her life without Lottie, when the prospect of it already pains Nat so while she’s in her lover’s arms?
She tells herself it’s better this way; a fond farewell rather than abandonment overflowing with resentment. Yet, nothing can make it better. She made this choice, willingly pulled the trigger, broke and bled dry both of their hearts in the process, a means to avoid a bigger mess; but what if it was the wrong option?
Could they work through it in the future, possibly? Nat tries to rationalize her decision, but it feels like she chose temporary peace over the person she loves the most. She believes to love her is to suffer her; but what if her being is worth the suffering?
Only the night’s receding steps find Nat finally at peace, no longer restless and swallowed by guilt, but deep in in a dreamless ocean, void-like sleep.
Lottie awakes first, though she can no longer tell if it’s a blessing or a curse. Her pleas from the night before seem cruel now, like the Universe granted her a gift-veiled punishment.
For a few moments, Lottie forgets the night before, leaning down to press her lips to Nat’s head. Laying back on the sheets, she closes her eyes contently and tightens her arms around the girl dozing off on her chest.
Suddenly, memories hit her like a freight train, punishable and cruel. Red eyes and tears, confessions whispered under the sheets, the tragedy that encompasses love.
The bed is warm, but Nat is warmer, like the intensity of last night is emanating off of her. Lottie watches mesmerized, caught in a daze. Her feelings melt together, love and devastation, resentment and adoration.
She doesn’t rush, instead she takes her time; counting Nat’s freckles and peppering kisses on her skin carelessly. She feels selfish for hoping Nat wakes up before she leaves, but tears well up in her eyes again at the thought of not hearing her voice one last time, not feeling Nat’s lips press against hers in a final goodbye.
Nat shifts slightly, and Lottie is reminded that time is flowing; time doesn’t freeze in its tracks for lovers, regardless of their bleeding hearts.
She would rather have her last memories of Nat sleeping soundly, peacefully, secure in her arms, rather than witnessing her breaking and pleading all over again.
When Nat replays their last encounter together, Lottie wishes it to remain full of warmth, soft in the way only love knows how to exist, instead of devastating and shattering.
Instead, Lottie wills herself to untangle their limbs and remove herself from the bed. She rushes her way into a change of clothes, not bothering smoothing them out or brushing her hair.
Not because she doesn’t want to see Nat, talk to her one last time. On the contrary, her eyes would be the only thing stopping Lottie’s heart from wrecking itself of all the blood, and feelings, and attempts at forgetting their promise.
Lottie can feel the urge to stay and plead one last time crawling up her throat, clawing at the sides of her neck like a lump that one can’t quite swallow nor spit up; lodged between choked sobs and words left unsaid.
Instead of falling to her knees and mutter promises of worship and sacrifice before her lover, Lottie gathers the last of her possessions quietly. She sprays perfume on the pillow and leaves a burgundy kiss on Nat’s cheeks and forehead as evidence their love ever existed, willing herself to book the earliest flight to the farthest destination.
And if Nat wakes up to a lukewarm bed and Lottie’s scent encompassing her surroundings, her weeps and sobs are only heard by the ghost of the moon departing on Lottie’s footsteps.