And a Sunset Couldn't Save You Now

And a sunset couldn’t save you now

The sun was strong overhead when they settled on the gentle slope of a hill, watching the creek trickling by below them, her hand held warmly in his. He smiled watching her toss her hair over her shoulder; the golden light turned the dark brown nearly blood red. She stretched out on her back and closed her eyes. He couldn’t help but watch the sun dancing on her pale skin. A crisp breeze darted around them, and he shivered at its unfamiliarity before lying back against the grass, ignoring the leaves and dirt he was sure would cover his backside when he stood up.

She shifted and scooted closer, maneuvering her body so his arm was behind her neck, her head resting against his bicep; her side, the curve of her hip, fit perfectly against his body. He still marveled at that—the way their bodies fit together in every way, just as everything else about them was complementary. Color rose in his cheeks and a hazy smile crossed his face as he recalled some of the ways their bodies had fit together.

He brought her hand to his lips as they spoke, their conversation light and carefree, just like this secluded place between willows. If he could just hold on to this moment of ease and leisure, lazing beside a creek with her body warming his in the foreign, chill autumn wind, he’d never have to know again what it was to ache for these moments. Never have to know again what it was like to wake from a dream of her so realistic he could smell her on his sheets, thinking if he just reached across the bed a little further his hand would touch warm soft skin or hopelessly tangled curls or a familiar curve on her body, only to find she wasn’t there, hadn’t been there. He’d never again have to look back over his shoulder and see her standing, blinking back her tears because he’d asked her to be strong, and know that he was leaving the purpose of his existence, and know that it was killing her as much as it was killing him.

The sun slipped behind a cloud, and the temperature seemed to drop at least twenty degrees. Shivering in her hoodie, she turned on her side to press more of her body against his, sharing more body heat between them. His arms went around her to hug her, and he felt her smiling as she mumbled a sleepy reminder of her love. He sighed gently, blinking away tears at the thought of leaving her again, and looked up at the sky.

The sun was sinking. Already the shadows of the trees stretched strangely across the hill. He looked down at the girl in his arms—she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, though she’d argue that until he hushed her with a kiss or until she died, whichever came first. He knew that the coming sunset couldn’t save him from the pain that was going to come for both of them, no matter how beautiful the moment was; the arrival of night only brought that inevitable moment closer.

He held her more tightly and ignored time passing them by.