Without you

Sometimes… I wonder what the meaning of life is…

To see your smile and to hear your laugh…

Those two simple things make my day…

There is nothing more that I can ask for. All I want is to see the smile on your face and to hear your childish, innocent laugh ringing in the air. I want nothing more than that. Being beside you and being able to know that you and I exist—I can't be more grateful.

To see you in the garden, holding the flowers with the warm sunlight shining against your face makes my heart melt with comfort. To see you waving at me over there, telling me to come over brings a big smile to my face. Because that way, I know that I am important to you. That way, I know that you actually need me beside you. No matter it is to pick up the snail and throw it away to the other side of the wall or just to bring you a pair of slippers—which you frequently lost as your roam around in the garden, forgetting the time.

I remember you telling me how grateful you are to be able to see all the wonderful colors of the flowers and the grasses and the plants that we have in our garden. And you always praise my red hair, saying that it has the most beautiful color that you have ever seen.

You are always so cheerful, so bright and so colorful. You bring colors to my life—bountiful, millions and millions of colors, each day, each hour, each minute, each second. I even begin to believe that without you, my world will be all black and white—dull and boring, without anything meaningful or worth waking up to each day of my life.

I want you to be always there. I want to be able to always watch you—always within my eyesight. Because… because I love you. And you said you loved me back with a smile so sweet that I'm sure the cold heart of the God of the Underworld would melt and cry.

I want to always be able to hear your voice. Your kind, gentle voice which make even the worse of days become better…

Seeing the tears on your face makes me feel like I've committed the worst sin mankind has ever committed. I can't stand seeing you sobbing or crying silently, in the corner of the room, because of our financial problem. I can't stand seeing your fake smile, seeing that you're acting strong in front of me, saying that everything is alright… while you silently cry inside, possible hating me for giving you so much sorrow. I can't stand to know that I am unable to support you—that I am unable to make you happy… I can't stand how helpless and hopeless I am…

I have taken you out of your happy life and make you suffer with me. You come from a rich family and I… from the poorest of families. I am not worthy of you, I do not deserve you. Yet, each time I tell you that, you scold me and tell me that I am the only one you love. That you want this—you want this life with me. This… poor and miserable life where you have to work two jobs of washing the dishes in the restaurant and being a waiter in another while tending to the garden in order to produce what little you can to make our living. While I am trying my best, working my two jobs as a mail delivery boy in the morning and as a seven-eleven store keeper at night.

We… work our best to make our living, to pay the bills.

Because of me, you've even sacrificed your education, saying that everything's ok, everything's alright. And you even tell me to get Financial Aid from the government so that I can go back to college and get better education. You are never selfish… you're never selfish. And you are always there beside me. Yet… when you are crying—I'm never there with you. Because I am too afraid to approach you. Because… even if I know you're crying… I'm too much of a coward to even try to comfort you. Because I know that the source of your sadness is me… I have brought too much suffering unto you.

And I'm too much a chicken to say that I'm sorry… too much of a coward to say that I can make everything better, to say that everything is alright… because… because I'm not sure if everything will be alright. I don't know… I don't know if I can make anything better.

Because… I'm too much of a coward to guarantee anything. I can't lie… I just can't lie to you… I can't… I can't try to promise you anything… because I don't know how the future is going to be for us. Because everybody hates us for being together…

No two men should be together…

Yet, you never complain. I know how other people treat you out there… I know… they mock and ridicule you for choosing to stay with me. They push you around and make fun of you. They give you the worse of jobs—they told you to clean the toilet and you obey them. And I know that there is so much more that they have done to you that I don't know about.

You come from a wealthy, happy family. Your family is well known. And me? I'm just all alone in this world with my cat until I found you. My cat was dying when I met you. And I was looking for a vet who would help me, but I'm too poor to pay for a vet. We met and you helped me pay for the vet. … but my cat ended up dying. You, always being the strong one, comforted me and said that everything will be alright.

And somehow… I never understand what you see in me that you say that you love me back when I confess my feelings.

I love you. I have, ever since I first meet you. Because unlike other people who are too ignorant to care, you care. You are as if an angel sent by God to me—to ease my suffering. You are a martyr who bear my sufferings for me. You are just all things beautiful and pure and holy… while I am filthy and miserable and poor.

But you always make sure to make me promise you that I would never leave you. And I promised you—I would never ever leave you.

When it should be the other way around… I should be the one begging you not to ever leave me…

You are always so strong… so much so that… that I never know that you… are going to leave me.

No… you pretend to be strong.

You had a terrible headache one day and you were so pale, but you—being the usual you, said that you were okay. That it was just a normal headache, that everything would be okay soon as long as you drink Advil or Tylenol or such medication. And I listened to you. … And I didn't do anything about it—because I too, thought that it was just a normal headache. I didn't care too much—because I was too tired to care. I just got back from work and it was in the middle of the night…

And then, you began vomiting… but it was just one time. And you complained about having nausea. I thought you had a flu, I thought you were sick. I went to the pharmacy to buy you Ny-Quil. And you were somehow… okay again.

And then… I notice that you process my words a bit slower than usual. You used to be always so responsive whenever I say something to you. But… you weren't as responsive anymore and you seem to take your time to think before you answer me… I-I thought you were merely trying to think things through—because you were always so thoughtful.

You began to ignore me then. And you always had to ask me twice whenever I say something to you—as if you were so deep in thoughts that you didn't just hear what I said. And then, you began stumbling when you were walking. I thought you were just tired… I—I thought that everything was fine.

Then, the next thing I knew… when I went home from work in the middle of the night… I searched for you everywhere in the house. Because you would always be waiting for me in the living room, yet you were not there. I ran upstairs and I didn't find you on the bed. And I ran into the kitchen…

You fainted.

I sent you to the hospital…

You were sent into the emergency room.

The doctor later diagnosed you having a severe brain tumor that should have been treated earlier… but it was too late to treat it now… because the tumor had grown so big… that you can't even see anymore… that your sight is lost. And that they have performed an operation which will prolong your life… for only a week—seven days.

They've given me your death sentence…

I… remember you telling me how grateful you were to be able to see…

I can feel the tears slowly making its way to my jaw… dripping to the floor silently. I remember the endless tear that grazed my cheeks. My eyes sting… And I remember your smile and your laugh and your comforting words and your kindness… and I feel my heart clench… I feel the constriction… so much so that I think I can't even breath anymore.

I can't stand knowing that I would lose you.

I am selfish…

And now… as I walk into your room, I see you there. Your head wrapped up by bandages. I don't see your hair anymore… your beautiful, golden colored hair… My eyes sting, but I bite my tongue. I don't want you to see my tears. I want to be strong—like you, for you.

You are sleeping so peacefully…

My cold trembling hand cups your cheek.

And you wake up.

Very pale…

Opening your eyes, staring at me with those pair of blank cerulean, smiling weakly at me. You've lost your sight… you can't see me…

"it's okay."

No, it's not okay. Can't you see?! … it's not okay…

"Don't worry, Axel. It will be fine."

You smile your angelic smile.

It is then that I cannot hold it in anymore. I run outside and slam my fists again and again against the wall. I try to stay silent, I try to be quiet. I don't want you to worry. I slide down against the wall, sobbing.

It's not going to be okay…

I wish I can take your place, Roxas…

I wish I can… I don't mind bearing the suffering…

Because I am selfish. I don't want to see you suffer. I…

--

I try to smile when I am around you. Six days left…

You are sitting on your bed, looking out the window, clenching the white sheet covering you. Then you shift your attention to the corner of the room, pretending that you are looking at me and give me an angelic smile.

"Hey, Roxas. Feeling better?"

"Much better."

No… You're so pale… and the doctor told me that your condition has worsened…

"Where am I, Axel?" you ask, voice shaky.

I walk close to you and embrace deeply, pulling you in as close as I possibly can without hurting you. "Roxas, please… stop acting strong… it's okay… please…"

"Axel… everything will be okay, right? I'll… I'll be able to see you again soon, right?"

I can't answer you… I can't say anything. I've promised myself that I will be strong for you… for you… "Yes, Roxas. Everything will be okay. There is nothing to worry about…"

You nod and smile at the wall adjacent to you. "Thank you, Axel…" you put your hands on top of mine.

I look away and bite my bottom lip until it bleeds.

"Am I in the hospital, Axel?"

"Yeah…"

"But… we can't afford a hospital…"

And again, I can't say anything to you… Roxas… are you in the state you are in now because of me?... You didn't tell me that there is something wrong with you because of me?... because I can't earn enough… because you're worried that we won't have enough money if we know that there is something wrong with you?...

--

I don't know what to do without you… I honestly don't…

I am standing in front of your motionless body. I can feel my heart break into million little pieces. Seeing you there, very pale… not breathing…

You had asked permission to touch my face, to feel my face so that you will be reminded of what I look like. You smiled as you close your eyes. And you strike a small joke about how spiky my hair felt against your hands now because you can't see.

You told me that I must be happy with life with or without me. You know that your time is coming even though nobody told you. You told me that I should go back to college and be a good student that would make the teachers proud. You told me a bunch of things. You told me how to water the garden, which plants need to be fertilized, about how the garden snails would ruin the garden if I didn't throw them out.

You know that nothing's going to be okay…

Yet you are still smiling, even until the end.

I gave you a ring… I knew that it wouldn't mean anything—but you were so happy that you cried… I hated it when I saw the tears in your eyes. I hated it… I knew you cried because you were happy… but I still didn't want to see you cry.

At the end, you gave the ring back to me… and told me to find somebody else who wouldn't leave me.

I clutch the ring in my fists. I can feel the ring tearing into my skin and I can feel the hot, moist blood begin to drip out.

And you are there… motionless with the sunlight seeping into the room, bringing color to your colorless face.

And I can only stand there motionlessly as the nurse slowly bring the cover up to your face...

I close my eyes...

What is the meaning of life…

Without seeing your smile, without hearing your laugh?

Who do I wake up to now?

Who will tell me that everything's ok from now on?...

What is the meaning of living…

Without you?

--