They stumbled into her bed after a night out. Shoes kicked off, clothes tossed across the floor. He was so drunk she had to carry him into her bed and pull the sheets over him as she drank her cautionary four cups of water and two tablets of aspirin. They reeked of smoke and alcohol and the sweat of a hundred people raving to flashing lights and sounds. Her heart was still pounding and her ears were still ringing, and she had a smile plastered on her face because she could have sworn she had never felt so alive.
He lay half-naked between her sheets, breaking out into a vicious sweat as they waited for a midnight breeze to chill the room. She felt so sorry for him, obviously one drink too far gone, unable to keep his mouth closed or his head up. It was cute in a helpless puppy kind of way. He mumbled sweet nothings about loving her and wanting her to use his last name, but she laughed and dismissed them as drunken rambles. They say that a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, but sometimes a drunk mind can also be painfully obnoxious and daring, and terribly regretful in the morning.
She shushed him with a finger over his lips and stroked his hair until he kept quiet. She knew that he wasn't planning on staying here much longer- it was just a few weeks ago when he mentioned that there were bigger things out there, and his time in this city was ticking away at an uncertain speed. She was so sure that he was going to leave some day- leave his job, leave his friends, leave her. Yet he didn't seem to hold back with his heart at all. He loved as if they'd be together forever.
She looked at him, half-asleep, but still stuttering sweet nothings under his breath. She loved him so much it made her sad. How could life be so unfair? Delivering you the best person you've ever met, then slowly poisoning your brain with the idea of him leaving.
"If you know that you're going to end up leaving, why are you letting yourself fall in love?" she asked, an almost-inaudible whisper between tears she didn't mean to cry.
Her question was like a slap of cold water on his drunken face. He sat up, eyes clear. He reached for her hand and squeezed it just a little bit too hard. Obviously still a bit drunk.
"Why are you thinking about this?"
"Because you're going to leave eventually, and I'm going to stay here, and my hearts going to break but you'll be off enjoying the world and it won't be fair," she cried, knowing how selfish she sounded.
He pulled her closer into the nook of his body, and held her as she weeped, praying that it was simply the alcohol making her emotional.
"Why should I hold back on a love so great for something that might not even happen?" he asked her, kissing the bare skin of her nape and the goosebumps along her shoulder.
"You're always going to be a factor," he whispered.
"I don't want to be a factor. I just want to be selfish and keep you here with me."
She held back on telling him how terribly she wanted to go with him, wherever he went.
She knew that's how their story would end- he would leave to explore the world, and she would be left behind. They'd probably try to keep something going over emails and Skype but eventually they'd both grow weary- he'll tire of the responsibility and she'll tire of waiting. She wasn't ready to have her heart broken, but it was just so easy to love him. No matter how badly she wanted to protect herself, she wanted to love him more.
She swallowed her tears and wrapped herself in his arms, nodding in silent agreement with all his assuring words, falling back into the comfort of his kiss. She hated herself for loving so carelessly, but she could never put up her guard, and decided it was time to embrace the crazy love they had for one another without worry. At least at the end of it all, the broken heart will be worth it.
