81It hurt.
Never before in his life had he hurt so much. Never had he felt so empty; so hollow; so lost.
He was drifting; and yet it felt like he was sinking at the same time. Deeper and deeper. He was pulling against the stream; fighting it with all his might, but losing the battle nonetheless. Wave after wave washed over him; drowning him, pulling him under and forcing the air out of his lungs.
But he was still breathing; he was still walking and sleeping and talking. He was still there. And yet he wasn't. Not really. He felt like a ghost; invisible; impalpable. Confused and detached.
It hurt.
There was something missing. Something vital. Something without which he couldn't function properly. Something that only returned in his dreams and he wished he could be asleep forever. He could see it every night; a star, shining bright. A warmth towards which he was reaching, but which he could never really grasp.
"Please don't give up the fight"
Words that echoed through his head; every second; every minute; every hour of every day. A last request. A last wish. "Please don't give up the fight". And he promised not to.
It hurt.
He was afraid. So afraid. But he was proud. He was proud to have been his friend; his brother; his soul mate. He had listened to him; learned from him; followed him. He had been led by him. Guided by him through every aspect of life. But now it was time to step alone. Step alone and make him proud.
It hurt.
But he would get through the night. And they would meet again on the other side. Because there, he would be waiting. With arms wide open; a smile big and bright. Welcoming him. And he would be proud.
(I'm practicing short drabbles for a creative writing course I'm going to follow from September on. This is just a try-out. I hope it will not suck…I have written two stories build around this little drabble: "I'll never say goodbye" and "These wounds won't heal".)