Valentin and Rojo | ✓

twenty-six (2nd draft)

Xavier

TWO  WEEKS  LATER

It's Christmas. I don't really care about the holiday. I stopped giving a shit about it, give or take, six years ago. Instead of staying at home and eating, which is all I've been doing for two weeks, I decided to go surfing.

"I'm going surfing for a while. If I don't come back before five PM then I'm dead," I joked with my father. He never loved the idea of me surfing. You know, sharks, drowning, huge waves swallowing me whole. But, I was still alive.

"Ha-ha, hilarious. Just don't drown," he waved bye and I left the house.

The waves were fine. Perfect, if you will. Since it was Christmas day, practically no one was here. I saw two, maybe three, people out here.

*

I was fine. I was perfectly fine until this massive fucking tidal wave came out of nowhere. I tried to ride it out, but the goddamn current and winds were against me. I didn't panic, I knew not to panic. I was as cool as a cucumber, until I wasn't. I tried paddling back to shore, because at this point, I was way too far out. But, no. I was caught in a rip current. It pushed me farther and farther away from shore.

I would've called for help. Slight problem, there was no one out here. I was so far out that I couldn't see the shore anymore. My paddling was useless. I couldn't do anything.

I had only been out here for three hours. I told my father five PM. That means I have seven hours before he realizes something is wrong. Can I handle seven hours?

Well, I guess I was going to have to.

Even if I did die, this wasn't a bad way. It was just me and my surfboard, the waves, and my thoughts. Oh, yeah and the sun beaming down my body.

Winter didn't exist in California. It was always hot, which was great sometimes. Right now, it really fucking sucked.

I closed my eyes and just listened to the water. My mind kept drifting towards her. I wondered if she still thought about me. I was so stupid. I actually thought I deserved her. I was a piece of shit - still am. I truly believed that I was the one for her, the one she could trust, the one that could make her happy. Then, what did I do? I broke her fucking heart.

The worst thing I did to her was love her. I loved her so damn much. Too much. Was that a thing? Loving someone too much? Everything I did for her was out of love, even ending things with her. I knew she didn't see it that way, she thought I was being selfish. Maybe she thought I didn't love her anymore... God, that was the exact opposite. I yearned for the day that I could apologize to her. That I could explain everything to her, but would she even care? I wanted her back in my arms. But, I couldn't have that. So, instead:

I imagined her.

I saw her smile. Her gorgeous, dimpled smile. I fell in love with that smile. One glimpse of that smile and my day would be instantly made.

I could almost hear her voice. That slight Spanish accent drove me insane. Anything she said sounded sexy. Don't even get me started on her laugh. A fucking angel. The most beautiful sound I'll ever hear.

I remembered the first time we met. I was a dick to her. She was singing pretty badly to the songs playing, but it was so damn cute. I remember thinking she was so gorgeous. I still did.

I remembered the first time we kissed. It was her first kiss. She didn't have to tell me for me to know. It was apparent. Not that she's a bad kisser- believe me, she's not- but, I just knew. Before her, kissing was just familiar, you know? I never felt anything when kissing girls, never. Well, she changed the game for me. Kissing her felt right, so fucking right.

I remembered her first time. I knew she had never done anything before. I wanted it to be special for her. I wanted to make her feel like the goddess she is. I hope I did that for her.

I remembered the first time she told me she loved me. My heart was beating so fast I was afraid that she would hear it. She was rambling and that was the cutest thing. I knew I loved her before I said it. I wanted to tell her, I just didn't know when. She beat me to the punch.

As all of these thoughts were running through my head, another thought popped up: Dying slowly really fucking sucks. My head was spinning, I could barely keep my eyes opened, I was sunburnt and so dehydrated.

It started getting dark outside. That was a good thing, kind of. It starts getting dark around 4pm. That also meant that I've been out here for around 6 hours.

I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I was just grateful that there were no sharks. That would've really sucked. I didn't want a shark to fucking chomp on my leg.

I looked around and realized that I couldn't see anything. I saw the ocean and even more ocean. If I died right now, would people even find my body? That might be better. I wouldn't want my father to see my dead pale body. If I did die, would she even know? Our fathers are best-friends, would he call him? Would she ever find out that I just passed away? On fucking Christmas of all days.

I faintly smiled when I saw her face again. Her rosy red cheeks and her plump pink lips. Her hair was thrown up in a bun and she looked comfortable. She was so damn pretty like that.

She really was an angel.

*

I had no more fight left in me. It was pitch black outside and it was getting cold. My muscles hurt too much. My eyes were unwillingly closing. As I laid on top of my surfboard in the middle of the fucking ocean, there was only one thing I was thinking about. My last words are really:

"I'm going surfing for a while. If I don't come back before five PM, then I'm dead."

So, I wanted to change my last words. Even if no one else heard me. Even if no one else knew, I would know. With my last remaining breath, I strained out:

"Forever and always, baby." It came out as a raspy whisper. She'll never know what I said, but I will.

Then, boom - lights out.