There were hearts, and tears, and an awkward fumbling string of words as the cataclysmic end came to a head.

Neither of us had expected it to happen that morning (well, night for him) but we knew it was right. There’s no way forward if your mind is stuck in the past, and no possibility of moving on when we were so firmly tied up in each other’s lives.

A clean break, we called it. It was either try, or a clean break. Nothing in between.

And what we had been indulging in, really, was the grey area of “in between” where we fooled ourselves into believing we were just friendly, where we became playful over the sincerity of our relationship, and the words of longing where we’d delude ourselves into believing we could make distance work, somehow, maybe…

In reality I thrived on knowing the times he would be contactable way over across the world, and felt safe that I would wake up with a line of messages every morning from him.

The goodbye that was shared that last time we Facetimed, right after my final exam when I was finally relaxed, chilling in the pool with a concoction of elderflower cordial by my side, god, I’ll never forget that goodbye. It was nearing 2am for him when he stared into my eyes and said, jokingly, quietly, “I hate you.” “I hate you more” I said with just as much sincerity as if it had been the words I love you.

But that wasn’t the last time I heard his voice. No, it was New Year’s Eve when we began a string of voice notes between us, with his cousin and sister in the background, talking about planes and travelling between Sydney and London. Almost like we were planning, or else deciding in our minds if it were possible.

“Make sure you’re awake for my midnight,” I implored him.

“I already have alarms set,” he said with that smooth confidence I had grown to admire. So sure of himself, even in the rocky situation that we were perching ourselves.

It’s time to move on, now. You’ll always have my heart, but it’s time to close this chapter xx


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