"They always say that memories fade with time…" Branko Njegos muttered as he stood at the side of a desolate road in southwest Serbia. "But in all reality, you never forget."
The Montenegrin man placed a bouquet of flowers down on the dirt path and sighed, looking up at the telephone pole that stood firmly in the ground.
"It's been seven years since Novak and I hit this pole… Seven years since he died…" He said. His olive green eyes were full of sadness and regret, and a sorrowful smile had placed itself upon his features.
Branko and his good friend Novak Novkovic drove along desolate roads in Serbia after a party with some friends. Branko, in the driver's seat was slightly less intoxicated than his Serbian counterpart, but was still impaired nonetheless.
As they sped along, they shouted drunkenly, singing along with the radio, grinning and laughing. There was nothing that could stop what happened next.
A harsh bump in the road caused Branko to lose control of the vehicle, skidding for a few yards before slamming directly into a telephone pole along the side of the road. Their small car was destroyed, mangled in a heap of scrap metal and smoking engine parts.
Branko, though in a serious amount of pain, was able to open his eyes, blinking drops of blood from them. He glanced over to Novak, who was slumped over, unconscious, bleeding profusely from the head. His torso seemed to be crushed by the wreckage of their crashed vehicle.
"N-Novak… Novak… Open... your eyes… talk… please… Novak…" Branko muttered, managing to lift a bloody hand and shake his friend's shoulder. No response was received, and Branko shook the Serb again. Upon receiving no response again, he began to panic, shaking him more.
"C-Come on, man! Th-This isn't funny; wake up! Please… N-Novak… please wake up…" Tears streamed down the Montenegrin's cheeks, mixing with the blood that oozed from a cut on his forehead. "Please w-wake up, Novak… I-I love you…"
The Montenegrin man waited for an hour, drifting in an out of consciousness, until finally someone came down the road they were on and pulled over.
"Oh my God! Oh my God, are you alright!" The woman frantically asked, approaching the side of the wreckage. Branko glanced to her with blurred vision, weak and knowing he was near death.
"… h-help…" He mumbled. The woman pulled out her cell phone, dialing the emergency number and speaking with the operator quickly, telling them that there had been a wreck. Branko lifted his head and glanced over to Novak, who was still sitting in the passenger's seat, unmoving, not breathing, and lifeless. The Montenegrin reached over and placed his hand on the other's cold cheek.
"… I-I'm so sorry… Novak… I'm… so sorry…" He muttered before slipping out of consciousness once again.
When Branko awoke, he was lying in a hospital bed in what he presumed was the ICU of a hospital somewhere in Serbia. He glanced around, tears immediately coming to his eyes as he recalled the events that landed him in the hospital.
He had gotten drunk at a party with his friend Novak, had tried to drive home, had crashed into a telephone pole, and had killed Novak.
He waited a few minutes before a doctor walked in, looking to him and sighing slightly.
"I see you've awakened from your coma, Mr. Njegos…"
"… coma…?" Branko stated, looking to the man confusedly.
"Yes… You fell into a coma after the crash… It's been three days. Do you remember what happened?" The doctor asked. Branko nodded slightly.
"We… We had just left a party and were… heading home… We were drunk… I… I lost control of the car and crashed into a pole… And I killed Novak… I was in and out of consciousness for… I think an hour… and… when the lady who found us came, I asked for help, then… A little bit after that, I fell unconscious… now I'm here…" Branko retold what had happened, sighing slightly.
"… It's shocking you recall what happened… You have a severe concussion…"
"I don't care… I much rather would have died with Novak than have sat there with his lifeless body next to mine for an hour… For the past two years, I've been hiding the fact that I love him… Now it's too late… I just… I want to die… I should have been the one to die instead of him… He didn't deserve what I did…"
"I… I'll check up on you in about a half hour… Try to stay awake, if you can." With that, the doctor made his exit.
Branko stared out the window in the room, watching as the sun rose upon the city outside, thinking; what if he hadn't gotten behind the wheel? Why didn't he tell Novak he loved him before it was too late? Why did this happen?
He had no one to blame but himself.
A few days later, as he sat in his wheelchair at the funeral home in Belgrade, he wheeled himself up to Novak's coffin, speaking quietly a poem.
"Moonlight glows on my skin…
The stars fill up the sky…
Remember how we watched them…
When you were still alive…?
Stumble through the back roads…
With anger in our eyes…
The secret lives in my soul…
I wish you were alive…
I'm so sorry…
I can't wish you… b-back to life…"
The Montenegrin man began to weep, grabbing a hold of Novak's lifeless hand and crying out.
"I-I loved you, Novak! I loved you! Wh-Why did i-it have to be you…? I loved you… s-so much…"
Seven years passed, and every year, Branko made the trip to the site where the accident had taken place, putting flowers on the ground and speaking out the words he had said seven years before.
"Moonlight glows on my skin…
The stars fill up the sky…
Remember how we watched them…
When you were still alive…?
Stumble through the back roads…
With anger in our eyes…
The secret lives in my soul…
I wish you were alive…
I can't wish you back to life…"
A single tear dripped down his cheek and landed on the ground before him.
"I loved you then, and I love you now, even though seven years have passed… I'll confess them when we join in heaven…"
The man smiled slightly, uttering one last phrase before his departure from the area.
"I promise."