TOMORROW DOESN'T MATTER AS LONG AS THEY STILL HAVE TODAY

The leaves chirped down the soles of his shoes. The crickets in the midnight orchestra began to play. The branches of tangerine trees rustled in the air: a symphony of sound suspended in the wind. He sat on the wooden bench confidently, almost certain he was welcome. Like he had found his place on Earth, waiting expectantly all his life just for this moment to occur.

Or maybe fearing it would occur.

As he sat, a full moon arouse on the black infinity of night. The flowers began to blossom, and yet something felt foreign. He turned to look at her. She looked more beautiful that he could ever recall. She was still wearing her wedding dress. Her brown hair was elegantly done in a bun with curls that reached down to her collarbone.

"It's late" he murmured more to himself than to her.

"I couldn't sleep" she answered even though she knew it wasn't a question he was asking, or a demanding. If he had be anyone else she would have guess they were questioning her. But it was him; Andrew. Her Andrew. With him she always knew.

"At what time your plane leaves?" he finally managed to ask the question that had been burdening in his lips all day long.

"Eight o'clock" She replied carefully, staring at the vast garden stretched before their eyes.

"You should get some sleep" He sounded so casual as he fixed his best man tux.

"I told you I couldn't sleep" she repeated as she hugged herself, protecting her body from the sudden coolness that the night had unleashed.

She was cold, he could tell. With her, he always could tell. If it had been anybody else he wouldn't have known what to do next. But it was her; Sam. His Sam.

He placed his arm around her shoulders. Embracing her. Protecting her from the outer world, as he always had. As his fingers made contact with her upper arm she flinched at his touch. It was so warm, so welcoming, it felt as his fingers were burning pip holes through her body. His touch always had that reaction on her, or as long as she could remember. He smiled to himself as he kissed her temple; she kept staring at the floor, the leaves. Her bare feet. The grass. Anywhere that wasn't him or his eyes.

Especially his eyes. Those beautiful blue oceanic eyes she had been reflected on so many times before.

As if guessing exactly what she was thinking, Andrew lifted her head upwards tenderly, forcing her to meet his gaze.

She shrugged; she hated his eyes, and loved them so much at the same time. In those eyes she always got lost and how she hated having to find herself back after; Bruised and alone. She didn't know when she was going to see those eyes again.

As her thoughts consumed her, tears started to dwell in her eyes. She was trying so hard not to cry. She wasn't that weak anymore, she had convinced herself she was stronger.

But she was so fragile. He knew it so well. "You are allowed to cry" he assured her as his hand traveled up and down her arm.

"No I'm not" she whispered meekly.

He stiff in his seat and let go of her. The second his touch left her skin she felt a coldness she had never felt in all her life. And in an instant all her walls came tumbling down. Her insecurities appeared once again in front of her eyes. Had she done right marring Evan? Should she have married Andrew instead? When she was going to see him again? Had she done wrong letting her pride win? Had she done wrong never accepting what she felt? She had. But it was too late now.

"You are going to do fine, my brother's a good man, he'll make you happy. You'll be happy" Andrew reassured her confidently. But how could she be happy without him? She had never known such happiness as when she was with him. He was his life. Could he read that to?

"Here, I wanted to give you this" he offered her a box he had been holding since he first arrived.

"What is it?" she accepted it carefully. Sensing what it was. Fearing she might be right. Longing she wasn't wrong.

"A wedding present" He ruffled his hand across his black hair. That hair she had shrugged herself so many times before.

She opened the box carefully. She sighed as realization hit her. It seemed so quirk that the box she was holding now was her life. Inside of it there were photographs, drawings, scraps, papers, letters, and other objects. All of them she knew. All of them she remembered. Each object was a memory. A memory she had shared with the man seating next to her. That box was Andrew. It was what she ever wished for and yet everything she feared.

"Andrew…" she trailed off, tears escaping from her eyes once more. Was it possible to reach the top of the world and collapse in one same night?

It was.

"Andrew…" she repeated trying to control her voice. He always loved how his name sounded when she said it. It was like an innuendo of beautiful hopes. He could sit there forever and listen to her speak. Her voice was the sweetest lullaby, the most painful sting, a bittersweet melody, a vague illusion.

"I can't…" she tried to returned the box to him. It hurt. Did she really want to forget him that much? Did she rather a life of oblivion, than a life with him in it? But yet again he questioned himself. Why had he given her the box in the first place? Was it because he was the one that wanted to forget? Did the wounds were deeper than his love? Did he want to remember everything about her? Or did he simply want her to have it so she could remember him forever, because she was always the one that forgot.

He encaged his hand on hers. "Sam… take it- it's yours." But she didn't want to have it. It was too painful to resist. She didn't want to suffer anymore, she needed to heal- how was she supposed to heal when that box contained every little detail of the person that instilled more pain in her than anything?

"I can't. I'm weak"

"No you aren't. I'm the weak one" she was always the stronger one. The fighter. The one that helped him picked up all the shattered pieces of himself. He had been the weak one, even today. Especially today. Had he done right in letting her go? Had he been right when Evan, his brother asked her to marry her and he didn't stop him? Was he right when he accepted to be his best man? Had he done right loosing the woman she loved because he was weak?

He hadn't, but there was nothing he could do about it anymore. Tomorrow Sam, his Sam- wouldn't be his Sam anymore. She would be Evan's Sam. Tomorrow his Sam would be flying half across the world to her honeymoon. Tomorrow his Sam wouldn't be his best friend anymore. Tomorrow his Sam would be Mrs. Mathews. Tomorrow his Sam would be miles away. Tomorrow his Sam would be just a memory. There were so many things he wished he would have done. Many words he should had said.

But it didn't matter anymore…

Knowing this, and perhaps because of it he lean forward and kissed her. His hand lingered on her cheek and she felt like burning. He had kissed her before, once. And it had felt exactly the same way it was feeling now. The only difference was that the other kiss was a beginning kiss, this one however was a closure kiss. That's why she held to it as if her life depended on it. That why she let his tongue explored her thin mouth. That's why she let him kiss her not once but enough times so that his tongue could remember forever her lips, and her neck. That's why she let him kiss her collarbone. That's why she rested her body on the bench while he was on top of her. That's why she let him touched her, making sure he memorized every line in her body.

Maybe tomorrow all of this would be gone. Andrew would be gone. Maybe tomorrow she would never see him again… Maybe all of her dreams will be gone along with him.

Tomorrow… tomorrow felt so distant. Tomorrow didn't matter anymore as long as they still had today.