1 min read

Sober Hearts

I saw his eyes emanate all the truth he had buried.

“You’re weird,” I said, chuckling as I rested my head on his shoulders.

In my chest were all-too-familiar flutters. His lips trembled as he grazed it on my temple. The smell of his perfume took my mind elsewhere. He placed his hands on my shoulders, stroking the edges; his gestures were rough and awkward.

When was the last time? In that friendly embrace, I felt the warmth and safety of our relationship. My body quivered with bittersweet nostalgia.

“I told you, I’m drunk,” he whispered with a hint of a stutter that he tried to subdue. He took my right hand and held it tight. I chuckled as I stared at his tight smile. His eyes were completely shut, cheeks fully flushed.

For the first time, I laid my heart out, not knowing how this would end. The sound of his breath became audible as his lips came closer mine. I quickly shut my eyes, unwilling to see the unflattering distance between our faces, until I found my lips dancing with his. His hand on mine stiffened and it paralyzed me.

The unsteady, faltering moves he made, the cautious fingers that caressed mine, the absence of words became a poignant memory.

He stroked my hair gently. I felt his chest expand and contract as he breathed deeply, maybe trying to stifle his heavy, burdened heart.

I saw his eyes emanate all the truth he had buried. He unearthed them slowly, and he needn’t say a word.

He kissed the palm of my hands and then my cheeks, which were wet with tears. I lay my head once more on his shoulders and he enveloped me in his arms. He breathed and sighed heavily, probably wishing he had untangled all the words tied to his tongue. Or probably wishing all this wouldn’t have happened at all.

But in that silence, he took courage and pressed his lips against my ears to murmur: I love you.