Second(23)

I don’t know how I got through the song, but I did.

For her.

I still can’t hear that song without feeling like someone punched me in the gut.

I don’t have words for what that felt like, watching her with my own blood, and more than that Ben was not the man she thought he was.

Every song I’ve written since then has been about her, in some way or another.



*****



“It’s misplaced because there is no reason to feel guilty. You aren’t cheating on him. He’s not here,” I say once more, wishing she could get it through her head, wishing she could just open her eyes and see how happy I can make her. I’ve watched her from afar, watched over her, been her friend, been her family, I’ve been everything I can to her in some way or another, but I’ve never been the one she loves. I’ve never been her man. And it’s the only thing I’ve wanted since I first laid eyes on her.

I’ve been in love with her for as long as I can remember, but I hid it. Buried it. She was married to my cousin, and that was that. My love story had no happy ending, my lyrics my only refuge from the pain unrequited love brings a soul. I dated, I met many different women, but none of them ever made me feel how I feel about Sabina.

She’s just… it for me.

It’s actually fuckin’ ridiculous.

My own personal hell.

I wonder what I did to deserve this.

“Does it matter if he’s not here? We still have to live with our decisions,” she says, brow furrowing. She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a few seconds. “So we like being around each other, and we care about each other… that’s fine. And we haven’t crossed any lines. I don’t think there’s an issue here.”

Maybe not for her, but for me, there’s always been an issue.

Sabina was always meant to be mine.

Does she even remember what her marriage to Ben was like? In his death, it’s almost like she’s forgotten and painted him as some magnificent man. Some hero. Don’t get me wrong, Ben wasn’t a terrible person, but he wasn’t a great one either. Is she so blinded by her love for him? Why would I torture myself by trying to compete with that? Over the last year, I’ve told myself over and over again to let this go. But I can’t. I don’t know why, I just can’t.

I lift my hand and cup her cheek, and she turns her face into my palm, her hazel eyes closing. She is so beautiful, and not just on the outside. What is it about her? Fuck, she’s had me in knots since the first time I laid eyes on her; it’s like she has some sort of spell over me.

I will always be drawn to Sabina, always.

It’s been put to the test over the years. I might have been able to conceal my true feelings, bury them so deep that sometimes even I didn’t feel them, but I knew they were always there. How different would my life have been if I’d asked her out before Ben did?

I remember the day I waited with her after school because Ben was late. She was standing there all alone with a bagful of heavy books, and I waited with her. I did it because I didn’t want her to be alone, and I also did it because I felt guilty. Not because I had a thing for her, but because I’d just seen Ben kissing another girl in the courtyard before I’d seen her. I’d wanted to tell her, I did, but I couldn’t.

It was the first time I’d worked up the nerve to actually speak to her, and then I had to watch her leave with Ben, who’d just had his lips on another girl. He didn’t even offer to carry her heavy bag of books for her.

I wanted to shake him, just make him realise that he had such an amazing thing in front of him. Why would he ruin that? Why would he disrespect her and treat her that way? I think I was hoping they’d break up soon, and it wouldn’t be important anymore. And maybe she’d give me a chance.

But she’d married him, and my chance went out the window. I got signed and left the city, needing to escape, and hoping that maybe I’d meet someone who made me feel like she did.

I didn’t.

I have another chance now though, but it’s not going to be easy. So do I take it? Or do I spend the rest of my life wondering what if?

With her eyes shut, I lean forward on the bed so our lips are almost touching. When she doesn’t move away, I brush my lips against hers once, softly, then again, this time opening my mouth a little.

She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t kiss me back.

I don’t know if that’s a win or a loss.

I try again, kissing her a little deeper this time, and when she responds, kissing me back, I almost want to jump for fucking joy. She tastes just as I’ve always imagined, her lips just as soft, her kiss just as perfect.