My Sunshine ✔

[ 45 ]

Narco's hands gripped the stark paper, trembling and painful. His eyes scanned the words again and again, absorbing beautiful handwriting and gut wrenching sentences. It had been written before he knew about Lewis' tumor, and somehow that enraged him.

Dear Narco,

I know I'll be dead when you read this (Yes, I'm doing the typical cliché letter writing. Can you really blame me for wanting to be a bit dramatic). I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I'm sorry we couldn't spend time together. But you have to be strong. It's okay to cry but you have to remain strong. For yourself. For Rose.

I know you will completely shut down when I... leave. Just make sure to let people in however hard it may be. Take your time to heal and please seek help. Therapy worked wonders for me.

I know you'll miss me, Love. I know how hard it is to move on but you can't hold onto the past forever. I love you so much. It hurts me to think about what will happen. I am not ready for this, Narco. I really am not. Fuck this is supposed to be happy. Sorry.

I don't want to let you go. I'm sorry, babe. I really wish I could live a few more months to make up for all the time we wasted. Hold your hand while we watch the sunset (we never really got to do that, did we?) but I can't. I want to kiss you so bad and tell you everything will be alright but I can't. I don't have faith in myself, how can I convince you?

If I think about it, I'm like the typical character in a romance novel who falls ill and dies, leaving their lover alone and hurt. Like, come on, author, couldn't you have done something different? Why the typical death?

I wish I could delete the words and erase the worst parts of my life but I can't. I wish we could have a happy ending but we can't. I wish I had that power but I don't.

I trust you. Tell Rose I love her.

Take care of her, will you? I love you.

PS: I'm in a better place now.

PPS: My favourite book is The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

Yours truly,
Lewis W.

Narco scrunched his nose at the last part, wondering what in the fifty shades of fuck it meant.

"He's in a better place now," He tried to comfort Rose. But deep down, he knew that he was saying that to himself. To keep himself sane.

His mind did not want to believe it, the suddenness of Lewis' death. A Myoclinic fucking seizure in the middle of the night. The truth always hit him in the worst way possible. His heart was shattered and he couldn't piece it together. Perhaps it was selfish to keep Lewis suffering for his happiness.

It was his fault. If he had known what to do instead of only being able to scream for help, maybe his sunshine would still be alive. A star could only burn so many times before it fell. He could bear a few minutes of separation rather than not being able to touch or see his sunshine ever. His sunshine, his boyfriend, his only light in the whole fucking universe.

"My sunshine," Narco croaked, looking around to see if Lewis was still there. He wasn't.

He wished he could run his fingers through the jet black hair. Every second, he thought about Lewis. He craved the soft kisses, the warm hugs, the tearful stories, the sweet laughs. Everything was turning bitter. Even the fond memories seemed to be dissolving into hatred. How could Lewis leave him? Did he not know how hard it would be to move on? Didn't he care about his daughter? Why did he die?