Friends with Benefits

9

30 SEPTEMBER 2019

Fuck that one month.

It was never going to work out anyway. We could barely last a week before I found myself in your room again under the sheets.

Although sometimes I do wonder how desperate your lies could get so you could save yourself the trouble of finding another soul to satisfy your burning hole.

Truthfully, I knew I wanted to be by your side because fucking you was different from Jason. It was burning passion and actual pleasure.

But I wished 30 September could be different. I wished it could be like the Saturday before 30.

You had no idea how much it killed me on the inside when you dropped the news of you leaving. It was easy to smile and laugh it off like it did not matter to me.

But it did.

It fucking did.

That Saturday was one of the rare moments we did not fuck. It was just a lovely dinner followed by supper and we bade farewell.

I still find it hilarious.

The meal was not as savoury as you expected but it did not matter to me. You were disappointed and a little mad, but good God. It was a pleasure to watch you dress up after spending months cooping up in your own home.

Twenty-four dollars on a meal meant nothing.

Hearing you say: It's been awhile since I dressed up.

That meant something.

That also meant the following impending sentence that hurt. I seemed to have ran out of vocabulary to even emphasise on the ringing dullness echoing throughout my blood. My words went a little stale. My dictionary went out of words.

I hope the weight of these words could touch and relive the emotions I had.

I should dress well when I go to Sydney.

Sydney. In four months.

Fuck.

Carter, I do not even know if these were the exact words you said but I wished you did not have to go. There are so many more stories I wanted to live with you through.

Any other scenarios you painted revolving 'Sydney', I wished I could forget.

I hope the day comes at the airport, you would hug me one last time and for me. I could hold you one last time before our fates took a parallel turn.

I want it to be like the Saturday we said goodbye.

Au Revor.

Till we meet again.

But 30 September.

Oh Carter, if only I knew we were going to meet on that Monday. I would never make plans with someone else. I just wanted to spend these four months with you as much as possible.

Let me photograph every single day I see you. My memory may fail me but not these letters to you.

Let my letters be the lane I row down and I see the genuine joy in my eyes when I was with you.

But let not my tears scar anything else. Let it not stain these precious memoirs while I watched you walk away to let me meet someone else.

You were just a friend but I wanted to defend myself.

It was not a date.

I wished it was you instead.

You had no idea how distracted I was as my mind constantly ran to you. I knew it did not mean anything to you but I wished you would at least hug me before you leave. I wished your face was the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.

Four months will eventually be a fleeting moment but till then let us take a stroll through these aching days.

Help me paint it with pastel skies and yellow sunrise so the day you leave, I can wake up with the same joyful eyes reflecting the morning sunshine.