bleeding hearts [h.s]

twenty four

I sat across from the green eyed and curly haired boy. He was smiling widely as he laughed at something I had said. His eyes were bright and his smile wide. I bit at the inside of my cheek and I almost had to pinch myself to prove that this was real and not a dream. I took a sip of my coffee; the bitter taste danced across my taste buds.

He asked me about my life, the bits and pieces that he had missed in yesterday's conversation. He told me that he was twenty-five and was working as a prosecuting attorney for a law firm. We talked like old friends; laughed like old friends; and it was nice.

"What was your favorite place that you have ever travelled to," I asked him. His eyes lit up and I could practically see the excitement in his eyes.

"It sounds stupid," he began. "I've travelled so many places, been to so many exotic places, experienced so much culture, but there is one place that was for sure my favorite."

"What was it?" I pressed.

"South Carolina," he smiled. Something in my chest stirred.

"Why South Carolina?" I asked.

"There is this thing," he began. "Called Simultaneous--"

"Bioluminescence?" I finished.

"Yeah," he said in surprise. "I have never met someone who actually knows what it is."

"It is where all the fireflies flash at once, right?" I whispered, my mind stuck in another time.

"Correct," he beamed. "You are absolutely right. Have you seen it?"

"No," I answered. "Haven't had the chance."

"I went after," he paused. "After Vi passed."

"I'm sorry," I said almost automatically.

"It has been rough," he admitted. "But I am working on it."

"I understand," I told him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shifted uncomfortably, and glanced out the window behind me. I knew that look well; it was the look of someone looking to escape. I looked in his eyes and saw a scared little boy who was terrified of feeling again. Against my better judgement, I reached out and touched his hand that was resting on the arm rest. He didn't flinch or move away, I seemed to pull him out of whatever world he was trapped in.

"I felt guilty a long time," he whispered. "Guilt about her death. Guilt about trying to grieve and move on. It is a feeling so tragic and awful that I wish I could stop feeling it."

"I felt guilty too," I spoke up. "It is a strange sense of survivor's guilt. I didn't know Violet, but the idea that someone had to die for me to live--that was something I struggled with for a long time."

"What made you contact Malcom and Rebecca?" He asked.

"Um... I guess part of me wanted their forgiveness. To know that they didn't hate me. Maybe even give them closure; I think I wanted to know more about my donor so that I could live my life honoring them."

"That is very valiant of you," he smiled before taking a sip of his coffee.

"Thank you." I blushed. I brought my coffee to my lips and allowed the warm liquid to course down my throat. "So Violet and you were together?"

"Engaged," he replied. I knew that.

"How long were you together, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, I knew her for about seven years, but we started dating when we were both twenty." He told me. I nodded softly.

"That is a long time," I mused.