One Last Breath

He was known for his bad habit of procrastinating, but even this was taking it too far. He was leaving in less than twenty four hours yet he couldn't bring himself to pack up his belongings. The mere thought of leaving this place, of leaving her, was enough to stop him from doing much of anything. His mind was clouded with uncertainty, doubt, fear and a tinge of unwillingness. In the end, he did manage to gather a few of his possessions - the watch she gave him for his birthday, now worn with seasoned use; and his sketchbook, filled with irreplaceable memories. He simply dumped everything else into the two open suitcases mindlessly.

That night, he drifted in and out of his slumber, his eyelids never remained shut for a full ten minutes. He tossed about on his bed, trying to will some sleep into himself. He stared at the ceiling blankly, he even counted sheep. After all, desperate times did call for desperate measures. He was going to need sufficient rest for his journey.

Unfortunately, sleep never came for him.

He was feeling particularly dazed and sleep deprived as he dragged his luggage into the port. He walked lazily towards the ticket booth, taking his sweet time. Just as soon as he was done loading his baggage, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was almost as though electricity ran through his body as anticipation began to build up inside of him. He spun around rather clumsily, fully expecting to see her standing behind him, with that half grin he loved so much plastered on her face. Instead, he was greeted by a loud "Surprise!" from his friends. He felt his heart plop down, but he quickly regained composure. He felt guilty for he really was more than glad to see his friends. He was happy that they were here. She'll be here. He thought to himself. She'll be here soon. He was sure of it.

He checked his watch. Again and again. Then he checked the clock on the wall. Not quite believing that it was almost time to leave. Where is she? He tried calling her, but her phone was off. Dead batteries again? He wouldn't be surprised, he knew her all too well.

Suddenly, he heard his name ring in his ear. It was her! She came after all! He was certain of it. He held his breath as he turned around, frantically searching for any signs of her in the mass of people. She was nowhere to be seen. A rush of frustration and disappointment boiled up in him, he wanted to scream his lungs out but decided that he was much too tired already. Could his mind be playing tricks on him? Was he going mad?

He waited, he really did wait for her to come.

He was the last one to board the ship, the most hesitant one to leave.

He didn't understand why she wasn't here, to see him off. She knew he was leaving today, he told her himself. Didn't she want to say goodbye, at the very least?

With one last hopeful glimpse at the crowd, he decided that she wasn't coming after all.

It took everything in him to step aboard the ship.

He felt for sure that his heavy heart would somehow sink the ship itself. He waited for the sirens to go off, but like her, it never happened.

As he sat himself down in his small confined excuse for a room, he began leafing through the old newspapers on the table. He needed a distraction. Anything. Anything to let it hurt less inside.

Mechanically, he wiped away a tear in an effort to hide it from the world. He couldn't bring himself to cry.

-Rachelle-