It started to rain some time later. It pelted down on the road, turning the asphalt a sleek black that shined beneath the moonlight.

Truman's suit was wet. My dress was dripping water from the bottom. It seemed too weird that this night had started off with the two of us at a wedding—a wedding Truman had crashed. And now we were here, standing in the rain, on the road that almost took Katie's life, and it was as if she were here, somewhere in the trees or the shadows or even the rain that streamed down our faces.

I watched Truman unlock the car, his movements stoic. Reflexive. I could see the weight he was carrying in his bones, see it sink him closer into himself. He sat in the backseat, shuffled over, and held the door open for me.

When I sat beside him and shut the door, we were bathed in silence aside from the rain hitting the roof of the car. I wanted to look at him, but the promise of goodbye lingered too heavily between us. This rain may has well had been an ocean that opened up, an uncrossable bridge between our hearts.

Because I was so fond of self-depreciation, I turned to him. His suit was covered in water, tie hanging loose around his neck. Truman's hair was slicked across his forehead, his blue eyes bright in the darkness. I lowered my gaze to his hands, shaking against his thighs. He looked broken, tormented with ghosts that riddled his mind and clouded his heart.

I loved him. I wanted to love him forever. But forever was never in our plan. Instead we had moments, short moments like this, where we could steal a kiss and a gaze and we held onto them, hoping it would be enough some day when the rain turned to dust and the sky brightened up; when our paths ceased to cross and we were nothing more than two people with a doomed past.

"Eden." My name felt so right on his mouth. "Did you mean what you said before?"

My words came back to me. We need to say goodbye to each other. For good this time.

I nodded. I meant it. I had to mean it.

"I don't want to say goodbye to you," he whispered.

I felt him move closer, felt the heat that warmed me from head to toe whenever Truman was within reach. And when his hand found its way to my thigh, I stared at it.

"This is too hard, Eden. It's too hard to go through without you. I need you. I need you," he repeated.

And, god, it was so fucking selfish. The weight of his words. The desperation in his voice. Of course he needed me. Of course I needed him. I needed Truman like the oxygen in my lungs. He was a life line and he was an anchor and I couldn't love him without drowning, too. We couldn't be together without ripping our hearts to shreds.

It was Shakespearean. We were star crossed. We were a tragedy, doomed from the very second we laid eyes on each other.

And still, I reached for him. I grabbed his head in my hands and, for the last time, I kissed him. I pressed our mouths together so fiercely until I could feel the cracks in my heart, the ones ridden deeply into my soul, start to mend with every touch of his tongue and every graze of his fingers.

I unbuttoned Truman's jacket. I peeled the wet fabric from his skin and ran my hands across his chest, the curves and hardened skin that pulled me from my mind and lifted me somewhere above the clouds. I felt his breath on my neck, felt his hands on my bare skin as my dress found its way to the floor with the rest of his clothing.

I was terrified. I was desperate. I was drowning in guilt and floating on love and I held him as close as he could be for it was the last time my fingers would touch his skin like it was mine for the taking. Only mine.

He moaned my name and I held his gaze, watched his steely eyes pierce my heart and ignite a fire somewhere deep within me. I should have wrenched my body away but I dug my nails into his back.

"Truman." It was a breath, a release of air, and his mouth was there, on mine, without me having to even ask.

And then he was everywhere. On me, in me, within me. I felt him in my heart, on my eyelids, on my finger tips. He was on my chest and my back and my legs and his breath was clouding my mind and it was fine, I thought, I didn't want to see a world without him hovering somewhere at the centre.

When Truman whispered I love you it was wrong but I said it back anyway. I ran my mouth across his skin, wet with rain and sweat, and I wrapped my legs around his back, pulling him tighter until there was no space left to close.

Maybe it was therapeutic. Maybe it was destructive. Maybe there wasn't a difference.

We lay there until the rain stopped pouring and thunder ceased to vibrate throughout the night sky. The storm was over. So were we. It was final now.

I pulled my head from Truman's chest and peered up at his face resting against the glass window. His breath fogged it up with every exhale. Feeling me awaken, he turned his face to mine. We didn't smile. There were no flutters in my chest. Only an ache.

Truman nodded and looked away. I slipped my dress back on and climbed into the passenger seat. Truman did the same. A minute later, we were driving through the darken, deserted streets.

When Truman rolled the windows down, the night air blew in. The windows defogged, like it erased everything we just did—everything we just were.

We sat in silence until I said, "What now?"

Truman stopped at a red light. We were halfway back to the city by now. My apartment building would pop up on the right side of the road in ten minutes.

It was all we had left. Ten minutes to feel like we lived in a world occupied by the two of us.

"I don't know," he said. Then, "That's a lie. I do know, Eden. But it's not what you want to hear."

With that, we stopped talking.

I already knew what Truman wanted. He wanted us. He wanted me. He wanted a life of happiness and kisses and heartfelt moments that would forever be trampled on by the guilt that snaked its way around my heart whenever I lay my eyes on his beautiful face.

And I had spent so long going back and forth with myself. Trying to decide whether I could love Truman Falls and live a life consumed by happiness, too. The answer was that I couldn't. That the guilt would always be there. That as long as we were together, I would constantly mourn the loss of Katie and he was a walking reminder of the girl I was losing and the promise that led my astray.

Truman pulled over in front of my building. I reached into the space between us and found his hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.

"I love you," I told him. "I always have, Truman. I always will. But it's not enough, because for how happy you make me feel, the guilt is there, pressing down ten times stronger. I can never be happy with you. I can't be the girlfriend you want me to me. I can't forget Katie and the promise I broke, and shove it all to the back of my mind.

"You need to let me go. You need to go be with your sister and spend these last few days with her. You need to forget about me because we can't be happy together. We can't," I finished.

I think he was crying, but his eyes were pressed so firmly together that it was difficult to tell.

"Are you going to be okay?" I whispered, feeling his hand go limp in my own.

"Yes," he said. It was a lie. We both knew it.

I leaned across the seat and kissed him, one last time. I tasted the memories and the love we shared and the moment our mouths parted, I let it go.

I let him go.

I watched him from outside the car. Watched him in the darkness and shadows he always seemed to take company with. His gaze was locked on the road ahead, and he just sat there, the car idling, like he was too afraid to drive off.

Then his door opened and Truman ran to me, wrapped his arms around me, crushed me to him. I pressed myself into his chest and felt his heart beat beneath my cheek. It was bright and alive and I knew that one day, he would be too.

Truman murmured something into my hair, and I couldn't make it out. I don't think I was supposed to. This moment was for him.

When he pulled back, he smiled, the smallest of them all, the saddest, too. We held each other's gaze, a language of its own.

"You always were a devil," he whispered, "ever since that first night."

I couldn't muster up the energy to smile. Neither could he anymore. His face was lifeless, expressionless, and his words didn't feel like a compliment or a reminder. Or some inside joke.

As he walked away, I called his name one last time.

He paused, turned around.

I drank him in, every last detail. His beauty was painful. His heart was beautiful.

"You're good, Truman. You've always been good. Remember that."

Without another word, he got into the car and drove off into the night.

The words were the truth. He was good. He was loving and kind and the greatest brother Katie could have asked for. It was me that brought him down, me that chipped away at his goodness.

But now he was free. Free to be good without me.

_______

uhmm i think this may be one of the best chapters i've ever written. verdict is still out. ALSO i know i haven't updated in a decade however there's about 2/3 chapters left and this story will be completed by next week. ty for reading and see ya then ❤️