[What she was trying to say wasn't all that hard to understand: she had started to date someone else. Moved on from the comatose invalid who was probably never going to wake up.
The knowledge hurts more than he ever thought it would.
The pain is a disturbingly familiar feeling, just harsher in its sudden, piercing intensity, like reopening an age-old wound that has never fully healed and setting it aflame. He had seen this coming a long time ago. This wasn't some new revelation. He knew she would end up finding someone else from the very moment he he began to realize that he was falling in love with her. He had never expected to be with her then—he was never going to let her know, and let what he felt for her die with him. He would just stay the silent observer, and that likely meant watching her fall in love and date other people that weren't him, which was exactly how it should have been, because he knew that, in the end, he would only hurt her. This was especially true as September drew to a close, and Amada's intentions towards him had been made increasingly clear. He had expected to die.
So even the mere thought of getting together with her was a selfish one. How could you validate dating a girl when you knew with almost complete certainty you would be dead in before the next month was through? You couldn't.
He had also known exactly what kind of person he was. He wasn't the type of guy any self-respecting girl dated.
He couldn't offer her anything. He couldn't give her the world or even a life. She was supposed to get married and have kids (if she wanted to), make a name for herself, and he… couldn't give her that. Can't give her that. Being a father was never in his stars, limited at the very least by his own mortality. All he is, in the end, is a delinquent orphan with too much baggage to his name and a lifespan you could probably measure on one hand. He knows this better than anyone, which is why he knew it would be far kinder to just let her go, even though it would hurt and mean facing each day wondering what could have been if he hadn't screwed up his life. He could deal with pain. Pain wasn't anything new or unexpected. He could take that if it meant not hurting someone else. That was (and is) the last thing he ever wanted to do.
And then she had badgered her way into his bedroom and made things complicated. He had tried to say no. Tried, but he had given in to every selfish particle that still resided in his body. Maybe he abandoned restraint because he was weaker-willed than he had thought, or maybe because he had been terrified about what was going to happen in the next few days. Or maybe he had given in because he had just wanted so badly to be happy for once. And was that really so wrong, to want to be happy for a little while? For five minutes? A day?
He couldn't say no. Couldn't give a valid reason for why they shouldn't be, because that reason was between he and Amada, and what would be, would be. And look how that turned out. He might as well have been dead.
She had done what he had expected her to do—wanted her to do. He's not angry, and he can't (and would never) blame her. They hadn't even been "together" for all that long. He just wished it didn't have to hurt so much, knowing that she did, but that's his own damn fault, not hers, and it will fade once everything isn't so raw. And he can deal with that, because only one thing matters.]
no subject
The knowledge hurts more than he ever thought it would.
The pain is a disturbingly familiar feeling, just harsher in its sudden, piercing intensity, like reopening an age-old wound that has never fully healed and setting it aflame. He had seen this coming a long time ago. This wasn't some new revelation. He knew she would end up finding someone else from the very moment he he began to realize that he was falling in love with her. He had never expected to be with her then—he was never going to let her know, and let what he felt for her die with him. He would just stay the silent observer, and that likely meant watching her fall in love and date other people that weren't him, which was exactly how it should have been, because he knew that, in the end, he would only hurt her. This was especially true as September drew to a close, and Amada's intentions towards him had been made increasingly clear. He had expected to die.
So even the mere thought of getting together with her was a selfish one. How could you validate dating a girl when you knew with almost complete certainty you would be dead in before the next month was through? You couldn't.
He had also known exactly what kind of person he was. He wasn't the type of guy any self-respecting girl dated.
He couldn't offer her anything. He couldn't give her the world or even a life. She was supposed to get married and have kids (if she wanted to), make a name for herself, and he… couldn't give her that. Can't give her that. Being a father was never in his stars, limited at the very least by his own mortality. All he is, in the end, is a delinquent orphan with too much baggage to his name and a lifespan you could probably measure on one hand. He knows this better than anyone, which is why he knew it would be far kinder to just let her go, even though it would hurt and mean facing each day wondering what could have been if he hadn't screwed up his life. He could deal with pain. Pain wasn't anything new or unexpected. He could take that if it meant not hurting someone else. That was (and is) the last thing he ever wanted to do.
And then she had badgered her way into his bedroom and made things complicated. He had tried to say no. Tried, but he had given in to every selfish particle that still resided in his body. Maybe he abandoned restraint because he was weaker-willed than he had thought, or maybe because he had been terrified about what was going to happen in the next few days. Or maybe he had given in because he had just wanted so badly to be happy for once. And was that really so wrong, to want to be happy for a little while? For five minutes? A day?
He couldn't say no. Couldn't give a valid reason for why they shouldn't be, because that reason was between he and Amada, and what would be, would be. And look how that turned out. He might as well have been dead.
She had done what he had expected her to do—wanted her to do. He's not angry, and he can't (and would never) blame her. They hadn't even been "together" for all that long. He just wished it didn't have to hurt so much, knowing that she did, but that's his own damn fault, not hers, and it will fade once everything isn't so raw. And he can deal with that, because only one thing matters.]
Were you happy?