"You won’t love me one day," I told him as we lay on the grass in the dark.
He wrapped his arms around me a little tighter and held me for a while, not speaking.
"I will always love you, unconditionally and without exception." He murmured, his breath tickling my ear.
I shifted positions to face him. “I don’t think so. You’ll leave one day, and you’ll find a girl who isn’t half as messed up as me.”
I think I caught him off guard because he didn’t know what to say.
I wanted to tell him to reassure me that he wouldn’t leave; I wanted to ask him to lie to me and say he would stay and that we could have our own perfect happy ending. I wanted to scream and shout and make him promise things I knew I had no right to demand. But I knew I had no right, so I stayed silent.
And still he said nothing. Instead, his arms tensed and we lay on the grass in silence.
Then somewhere between 1am and dawn he fell asleep, and his arms slackened.
All I felt then was emptiness as his soft snoring gave rise to the realisation that not only had I lost him, I never really had him to begin with.
America’s like that needy ex who marks the day you broke up on the calendar and turns it into this big thing every year.
And England’s just like *drinks tea