Mine for a Moment

I sit down on the floor of the gallery I purchased for Serenity, every artwork I anonymously bought from her lining the walls. I managed to buy all of them except for one. This gallery is my personal sanctuary, my escape. It’s where I go when I need to feel closer to her, when I need to surround myself with our memories.

I raise my wine bottle to my lips as I stare at her latest pieces, a collection she’s named The Lovers. It’s undoubtedly us, and it brings me a small amount of consolation to know she still thinks of me. I can find myself in the silhouettes she painted, in the tulips and the silk sheets, in the still life of a forgotten breakfast in bed that includes the same heart-shaped donuts she loves so much, the entwined hands of two lovers visible at the edge of the painting, his on top of hers.

I see us in the flower fields she’s painted, eating crepes on the streets of Paris, and my arm wrapped around her in a gondola on the Grand Canal in Venice. She’s painted all of our best memories, and I’m scared she did it so she could finally get them out of her head forever.

I know my girl, and if she’s painting us with those somber colors, despite the happiness attached to each of those memories…it’s because she’s trying to move on. With each finished painting, she’s probably getting closer to forgetting me, until one day, her paintings will no longer feature me.

I took her to all of those places to help her tick things off her to-do list, but if I’m truly honest with myself, I also did it because I knew it was Theo she wanted to make all those memories with—and I wanted it to be me.

Except, in the end, it’s still him she chose.

My heart wrenches as I reach for my phone and scroll through the same photos on social media that have been torturing me for days now—photos of her with Theo, at the same crepe place I took her to in Paris. She’s creating new memories with him to replace ours, and it’s fucking killing me to sit here so helplessly as she builds a future that doesn’t include me.

I can’t help but wonder whether it was a coincidence that he met her in Paris less than a week after I saw her so unexpectedly over video. Did she misunderstand what she heard? Did I push her into his arms with my careless words?

I know for a fact that Theo is only with her for a few days, since he only asked for leave until Monday, but a lot could happen in that time. I inhale shakily and lie back on the floor, my eyes trained on the ceiling. I try my best to control my thoughts, but they insist on torturing me with images of her dancing in the rain with him, of him pulling her closer, their eyes locking the way ours used to just before he dips his head and takes what’s mine.

He’ll discover things that only I knew—the way she likes to be kissed, and every part of her body that’s sensitive, right down to that small patch on her inner thigh that I love to mark with little love bites. He’ll find out how fucking magnificent she is when he lays her down in bed, her gorgeous bare skin complemented by the light sheets as her wild hair surrounds her like a dark fucking halo.

He’ll hold her in his arms and experience the pure peace only she can bring and the way the warmth of her body just seeps into your heart too, making you feel like you’re on top of the world. Someday, I’ll see them together, and he’ll hold her hand and kiss her knuckles like I used to, and she’ll grin at him, her eyes twinkling like they used to for me. I’ll stand there and pretend it doesn’t fucking destroy me to watch her love someone that isn’t me, and she’ll look at me like I’m nothing but her brother’s best friend, like everything we had was just a passing memory, a fling not worth mentioning.

I draw a shaky breath when my phone begins to ring, snapping me out of my downward spiral. I sigh as I stare at Tyra’s name, my eyes falling closed as I pick up.

“Arch?” she says, her voice filled with clear worry. “Ezra and I were just wondering where you are. He came over for dinner, but he needs to leave soon.”

“I’m still at work,” I lie, my voice hoarse. “I’ll be home soon, okay?”

I hear some shuffling and the slamming of a door, followed by Ezra’s voice. “I know you’re not at work,” he says, his voice hushed. “Where are you, Archer? Where the fuck have you been disappearing to lately?”

I sigh as I sit up and look around at the countless paintings surrounding me, fragments of happier times. I just know that ten years from now, I’ll still walk in here when I need a reminder of what it was like to be happy. Serenity isn’t someone I’ll ever forget.

“Nowhere,” I tell him. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be home soon.”

I sigh as I end the call and jump to my feet, forcing myself back into the role I’m expected to play. I’ve never felt so conflicted before. I genuinely want to be there for Tyra, and I’m trying my best to be a good friend to her, but it’s killing me inside to know I can’t give her what she wants, and in turn, I can’t have what I want. I’ve tried to tell her that there’s someone multiple times now, but every time I try, she changes the subject, almost like deep down she knows, but she doesn’t want to hear it. Every attempt to tell her that things between us will never go back to what they were results in a panic attack, and it hurts to see her that way.

What is the right thing to do? I can’t do or say anything that’ll harm her, but I also can’t give her false hope. I run a hand through my hair and sigh, my heart aching. I know she’s trying her best, and she’s come so far in a matter of weeks, but will she ever get to a point where she can handle the knowledge that she can’t ever regain what she lost?