Jacob Anderson didn't have quite the knack for love, or anything remotely romantic for that matter. It wasn't that he was ugly, no, he was fairly average-looking. Brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin. He didn't have girls falling for him left to right...
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WEWEREHAPPY. Things were normal. We were normal. Well, as normal as two people who had just confessed their feelings to each other could be. Forget everything I'd said - we were very, very awkward around each other.
The conversations we had were the same, yes, but the temperature of my cheeks were far different from usual. It seemed as if the same went for you. Your dark cheeks had an unusual pink tint whenever we spoke during class or even when we accidentally bumped elbows.
Even the tone of our voices had changed. From casual and smooth to high-pitched and rushed.
We weren't exactly dating, no, but we were somewhat close to it. There were kisses and dates but we hadn't bothered to make it official, we'd already spoken about that. Unfortunately, your parents weren't too keen on you having a boyfriend either, but I didn't mind.
A month had passed, then two. We had grown accustomed to each other again after a while. Our relationship went from awkward to casual once more and the red shade on our cheeks reduced to a light pink.
Though I couldn't deny the rapid beating of my heart everytime you stepped into the classroom, or when you lay your head onto my lap afterschool at the park where we always had lunch. Or even when we just sat down to speak about our life, our feelings, our future plans.
You'd wanted to be a psychologist if you ever made it, I remember you once told me. There was always so much doubt in your voice, it hurt me when you spoke like that. Your opinion about your future always stayed the same, there was never a time where you spoke positively about it.
It had me thinking - were you really going to be gone in a few months? I chose not to believe it, I couldn't believe it. Each night I fell asleep praying that you'd finally open up your eyes to the possibility of you living on happily, but the next day was always the same.
It got to the point where I'd had enough. I was going to ask you once more on how much longer you had to live. Whether it hurt me or not, I needed to know. You always told me 'a few more months', but how long was a few more months?
So at the final bell, I made sure I caught you on my way out of the classroom with a request of speaking to you afterschool. You looked confused, but obliged. We walked home together every day anyway.
We'd waved goodbye to the security once we were both ready to go, stepping out of the warm building and into the chilly air. We walked silently, occasionally cracking jokes over the loud traffic.
"Come on, come on. I don't want anyone taking our favorite bench," you'd told me, tugging on my hand to hurry us along.
"Calm down, Mabel. The only people who go there is that one couple but they only meet there every other night, as you said."
We'd finally made it and to your surprise, no one was there. "See, what'd I tell you?" I scoffed.
You sat down first, pulling a bag of chips from your school bag. "I stole this from that Daniel guy," you grinned as you munched on happily. I rolled my eyes with a small laugh.
As you ate, I stared down at my worn sneakers, shaking my head politely when a bag of opened chips flew into my line of vision. I was too worried to eat now.
"Ah, I just remembered something!" I feigned realisation, hoping it'd loosen my nerves. "Can I ask you something, Mabel?"
"Yeah, sure. What's up?" You responded with a mouth full of chips.
"Uh.." I stifled a laugh. "Exactly how much longer do you have... to live?" I asked softly. There was no use in beating around the bush.
You'd stopped chewing then, your hand mid-way into the big bag of chips. You retracted your arm, swallowing quickly before answering my question with a clear voice.
"About less than two months," you said. "Why do you ask now, Jacob?"
I smiled sadly, unable to answer your question for I, myself, did not trust my own voice. With a shake of my head, I let out an exhausted sigh. I'd felt sick.
"I don't want you to leave," I finally told you.
"Me too, but I've come to accept the truth. It's okay." You ruffled my brown hair.
