Chapter One – Beautiful Tragedy

We were both in his car. The engine was shut off and it was dead quiet. In front of us was nothing but stars, moonlight, and a lake. We've been here often. It didn't feel like the other naively blissful, carefree nights.

Finally, he turned and looked at me with his dark, brown, eyes. I could tell he'd been thinking about this all day. It scares me when he thinks too much about "us." It usually only goes one of two ways.

"So what's going to make this work for you?" he said taking my left hand in his right. "What are we going to have to do so that it'll be ok?"

I couldn't look him in the eyes; instead I bore mine into our interlocked fingers. What can one say in this situation? There's an answer we both want to hear and an answer that we know will most likely happen.

"There's one reason and one reason only that it's not going to work. I'm not willing to even come close to making a compromise on that reason. We both know what it is." I finally answer back after a couple awkward seconds. "It's nothing between us that needs work; it's everything else around us that we have to work on."

His face turns towards the lake, the same one that we must have seen over a dozen times just this year, as if there was something new out there that we haven't seen before. Again, silence takes over the conversation. It's only a matter of time before he starts talking again. He's a ranter when he gets anxious. I'm the complete opposite.

"Yeah, I figured you would say something like that. I've been thinking about this since we talked yesterday and I think you're right that we affect each enough that it interrupts our lives. I was sick for the first time in months and every time I thought about you when I was sick, I just felt even more sick." He cranes his head to face me again and oscillates his thumb against the back of my hand methodically. "It's hard for me to say stuff like this and you're the only one that I've ever felt like this about. I really love you, to the extent that I get physically sick. "

Yeah, me too. I wish I can say it, but I can't.

"When you told me that it hurts to be with me but not have me, it just killed me. I've told you to be a good girl but I want you to be great. I finally realized that I'm preventing you." He continues, "You know, I'm not ok with this but I think we don't have a choice."

I nod my head, still unwilling to look him in the eyes. Once I do, I'll probably lose any progress that we've made tonight.

"Yeah, you're right." I answer meekly.

I steal a glance up and he has a weak smile on his face but a look of gloominess and hint of desperation in his eyes.

"This is the most quiet I've seen you," he says with no change of expression. "What are you thinking?"

If he's going to bare himself for me, I figure I should repay the favor.

"I agree with everything you said and I've been bracing myself for it for a while but I didn't realize it was going to hurt so much to actually hear you say it. It's like when we went skydiving. I was going to change my mind but I was already jumping off the plane and I felt like I just died for a split second."

He does one of his low chuckles and smiles a genuine smile this time. "I know, but at least we can hold each other accountable now."

"We should go." I said, trying to be a stoic as possible.

He has no idea how close I am to losing it and just saying, "F*** the world, let's run away to Vegas." Against my better judgement, I know that if he had said we should just leave everything and make run for it, I'd do it.

The car starts up and he pulls out of the parking lot. My left hand stays locked in his the whole time while he still strums my hand like how he does his guitar when he plays a song for me and for the next 20 minutes, we both don't say anything; I don't know whether it was because we both might say something we'd regret or because if we did day something, then we'd never leave each other.

Finally, we arrive at the front of my house.

He parks and looks right at me again. God, why can't I just look at him?

"In five years, I don't want you to be good, I want you to be great, ok?"

I nod and grip his hand harder as he pulls me in for a last kiss. It last too long because I don't think I'd be physically able to leave his car. I open my door, reluctant to let go of his hand. The pressure on my hand increases as though he might have changed his mind and was going to pull me back in the car.

"I'll miss you." He says.

"I'll miss you too."

With that, our beautiful tragedy of a year had ended.