A soft smile guided me. Something that often looked perfect. Too perfect for me. Her equally soft fingers grasped my calloused ones, perhaps she internally minded the harsh textured skin from stress, but she never said a word. A hum escaped her mouth, but her eyes took notice of my face. The whole time I was watching her. Enticed with movements and skin. The colours that surrounded her pupils.

“She doesn't love you.”

“Are you so stupid to believe she loves you?”

“No one would love you.”

I coughed out the breath that was stuck in my throat. Convincing myself that my muscles will do their job so I don't hyperventilate. I try to remind myself that words aren't dangerous.

She looked at me with concern leaking through her green eyes, settled on my brown ones. Her face shifted into relief, most likely assuming I caught the spring season into my allergy net. Her hand squeezed mine in unknown reassurance.

“She doesn't care.”

“She'll leave.”

“They all do.”

“They never loved you Aleks.”

Fight it.

I push the words down under. She won't see I'm weak. I won't give her a reason to leave. She doesn't need to know how much I need her. How much I rely on her smile everyday. How much I want to keep her fingers wrapped around mine so I don't lose track of my limbs. The desperate fantasy that I'm perfect for her.

Perfect.

I'm not perfect.

“Stop being selfish.”

“She deserves better.”

I divert from her face, watching a lonely leaf gracefully move along with the wind. I wonder if trees feel proud or saddened about losing their leaves. If they could communicate would they show off which has better branches? Would they take bets on who will lose their leaves the fastest? I wonder if the universe recognises the souls buried in a tree. The beautiful meaning of using yourself to build a powerful life could equally be destroyed if your soul never returns to the constellations. Trees have offspring don't they? Seeds are scattered everywhere but not all get turned into a standing tree. That is rather sad.

“You're pathetic”

I accidentally squeezed her hand in fear, which drew her attention to me because she turned towards my direction. I play it off pretending my time is currently being enjoyed by solely her radiant presence.

She smiles.

“She’ll leave.”

There’s a plea in the back of my head. The escape isn’t there and I wonder if my hand is trembling. I feel the tears roll down my face before I could process. I kept my eyes settled on the ground, refusing to glance at her face. My voice was gone. I couldn't explain myself. I couldn't say why I was weak. I wanted to tell her to leave. Tell her I'm a burden that isn't worth her time. Give her the ability to see I was a waste. I felt a squeeze, looked at the small fingers grasping my hand tightly, in an attempt to say they were there. 

She'll leave. 

Her hand caressed my back and lead me into her arms, wrapping me into her warmth. I was sure that I was crying hard. My breath was trapped in my lungs but all I could think about was her. Think about the internal argument that was going on. Thinking about how the world around me was cold and that there was a darkness that only I could see. She kept holding me. She refused to let go and when I tried to pull, she held tighter. 

It was reassuring. 

I never wanted to let her go. 

Somehow deep down I wondered if she knew I don't deserve her.