Einmal verliebt (Outro) • Berq

Her hands slowly wrapped around your neck. The intentions behind her doing so had blurred together a long time ago. Now it was gentle, but you knew her. That was just the beginning. In a few moments, you would feel them tighten, slowly and sadistically letting your air fade. It was something you used to quite like when she did it, but now… now it had changed. You used to feel safe with her. You knew she would stop any time you gave her a sign. Of course, she still would, but… well, everything had changed. Along with her love, the tenderness had vanished. And yet, she still felt right.

The fingertips of her other hand gently glided down your body, only to slide back up under your shirt. As always, her touch on your bare skin left goosebumps in its wake, making you tremble slightly. Your heart started to beat faster, dangerously close to collapsing. She had always liked that - how responsive you were. Maybe that’s what made her keep showing up at your doorstep, over and over again.

It was a little cruel of her to do so after breaking your heart into sharp shards, at least, that’s what you told yourself. But the truth was, it wasn’t her. You were the one who called her every single time, asking her to get lost with you once more.
You couldn’t help it. Over and over again, you gently traced her lines. Every night, lying in your bed, your mind drifted back to that first day of high school - the day you met her. It had felt like you’d finally found your other half. Everything happened so fast, and the pieces just clicked together. It wasn’t like anything you’d felt before. And now, you couldn’t let her go her own way anymore. You couldn’t let go of those memories. You craved that feeling again more than anything. So you called her and she came, every time. But never once did she give you that feeling back again. She had grown ever so cold. Her silence held violence, and you just took the pain, knowing you didn’t have another choice. It was all you could get. Perhaps that’s why you kept trying, again and again - to finally get that feeling back.
It felt a little stupid. You knew you wouldn’t get it again, no matter how much you begged her. And yet, you slowly started to get used to it - probably the worst part. You weren’t sure what you were anymore, but if someone asked her, you were sure she’d say you were exes, in a really cold tone.

Your breath was still shallow as you looked over at her in the moonlight. She was already lighting up her next cigarette as she leaned against the headboard. God, she always looked so pretty in the almost-darkness. You watched her for a long moment. You knew you’d hate yourself tomorrow, for letting her in your bed again. Tomorrow, when she’d be gone again, leaving behind nothing but folds in your sheets.
“Light me up again,”
you whispered suddenly. She was quiet for a while, just looking back at you before finally opening her mouth
“You’ve always been so fucking poetic.”
“You used to love that,”
you hummed back, trying to sound nonchalant… and failing
“Things change, right?” She chuckled back. And there it was - her ever so cruel words. Not lighting you up, but burning you into ashes. They were actually designed to make it easier for you. You knew how she worked, she thought that if she was cruel enough, you would finally get over her, finally stop calling. But they didn’t make anything easier. It just felt like one of the shards of your heart started to press against your flesh. That was exactly why you’d made a no-talking rule once - it was better for both of you. Regardless even if her cruelness would be a good technique, it wouldn’t change anything. You couldn’t get over a girl like her. No one ever really gets over their first love. It was like a prophecy.