Author's Note:

Here's one more piece of work from me! :) This was actually written with different characters, but I realized that I wanted feedback, so I decided to change some things around and post it up ;)

Basically, like most of my oneshots, it's angst, bittersweet, sad, whatever you may call it. =] You might realize that I have "killed" Max from this story. ;D Sorry, dear readers, but I just thought that the story would flow better if he weren't in the picture.

I do not own Angels on the Moon by Thriving Ivory (for which this story is based upon) and I do not own Pokemon.

Just a suggestion but listen to the song while you read it? It's an amazing song and I'm sure it'll add an effect to the story. :)

Edited as of : 21st July 2010

[~||~||~||~ A n g e l s . o n . t h e . M o o n ~||~||~||~]

If only I realized it sooner.

Actually, I did realize it—but I ignored it, just brushing it away like it was nothing more than a feeling that would wash away after a few years. They say 'you never know just what you got until it's gone'. I've never heard a saying that fitted me so much. The day we met is still fresh in my mind—just like it was yesterday. Both our parents were the closest friends and swore that if they ever had children, their children would be just as close as they were. So when she was born, two years later, I found myself being forced to befriend her.

Maybella Maple—that's her name. She prefers to be called May, nothing more and nothing less. She was wrapped in a pink hospital blanket, crying her red little face off when I met her for the very first time. I was just two years old then and merely stared at her with curiosity. Although I wouldn't have admitted it for the world—I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Just like one of those little porcelain dolls at my grandmother's house. With dark brown curls of hair surrounding her ivory-smooth, oval face and the brightest blue eyes—she captivated me.

We started to grow closer when we were both put into Petalburg Elementary and I knew she looked up to me.

Since both of our parents didn't care to have any more children, we were practically considered to be brother and sister. We laughed, played, fought and had our own late night talks about things that we would never dare to tell our parents. It was so simple back then. She was my best friend and I was hers. But as time passed and we started to grow old, we just started to slowly drift apart.

She was twelve when she asked me a question that practically changed my life forever. With her big blue eyes and pretty face, she was easily thought of as popular. There were a few kids in her class that crushed on her but she seemed to be completely oblivious of the fact. Day by day, she grew more and more attractive in my eyes. But there were some things that never changed. Things like that bright smile that was always plastered onto her face. The smile that would light up anybody's day.

It was a cool day in late September. Summer had ended and was left far behind a pile of school work and everyday lives. May was absent from school and her mother told me that she had caught the flu when I went to pick her up in the morning. I ignored the fact that I missed seeing her bright face light up the dreary halls of middle school. Instead, I hung out with the other guys in my class, who usually poked fun at the fact that I was friends with a sixth grader, when I was heading towards high school next year.

The day passed by rather slowly—just like all school days. I went to class after class, my head not really in anything that was being taught. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Wondering if she was okay. But yet again, I was ignorant. It was nothing; I told myself. She meant absolutely nothing to me. So when the bell rang, I gathered up my books and was ready to head on home. I had a pile of homework waiting me. As I walked out of school, the little Voice of Reason inside me prodded me to go visit May, see if she was well, but I pushed it aside. My grades were more important than her.

I was already heading in the direction of my house when I received a phone call from my mother. She told me to go see May, since we were close friends. I protested but at last, she made me feel ashamed of myself—and so I hesitantly turned back and walked towards May's house.

Her mother came to answer the door. She appeared to be frazzled and her usually tamed dark hair was flying across her face. She greeted me with a smile though. A smile that reminded me of May's face. After a small exchange of a word or two, Mrs. Maple walked me to May's room—and afterwards left us to ourselves.

She was on her bed, her little face pale and chalky. Her eyes were red and she was clutching onto a blanket that was draped across her body. Despite how unwell she appeared to be, she sat up immediately when she saw me, her face already glowing with a big smile. A little pang sliced into me. She was so eager to see me—and I only checked on her because Mom wouldn't stop bugging me about it.

"Hey Drew!" Her normally high and cheerful voice was throaty and the greeting was followed up by a series of coughs. I rushed to her side, but she waved her hand away at me. Her way of saying 'it's nothing, I'm okay'. When her body stopped heaving, she brushed her fringe away from her face—smiling again. "It's nice to see you."

"Yeah." I answered softly and approached her bed, sitting myself on a chair beside her. Her room was decorated with colors, bright glow-in-the-dark butterflies stuck onto the walls and little paper models of roses scattered on her study table. Her paintings were hung on the wall, along with drawings, photographs and little pieces of poems. Beside her bed was a cabinet full of multi-genre CDs. Her room really summed up all the things that she was.

"How you feeling?" I asked, noticing the disturbing silence that befell over us. I diverted my forest green eyes to the raggedy rug beneath me, trying not to think how beautiful she looked—even when she was sick.

"Much better now!" May answered my question and gave me one of her big smiles that melted in with her wonderfully warm eyes. "I can't believe I caught the flu. Tomorrow's the swim tryouts, and I was really looking forward to go."

"Sorry to hear that." I muttered, not really knowing what to say. I flicked my chartreuse hair out of my eyes as a way to regain composure and flashed one of my infamous smirks. "Well, I hope you get better soon."

"Same here," the girl smiled, but her eyes now overlooked the blanket. Her petite fingers played with the edges of the fuzzy fabric and she appeared to be sad and solemn. Suddenly she looked up, her big cerulean eyes oozing with doubt.

"Drew?"

"Yeah?" I replied, wondering what had gotten into her within such a little amount of time. I stared into her fidgeting eyes, trying to appear calm, like always.

"What would you do if there was only one thing in the world that made you happy—but you found that out too late and that thing is already gone?"

May's eyes bore into me. The question repeated in my head. What did she mean by that? And why did I feel so uncomfortable all of a sudden? Biting my lip, I shrugged, eager to seem all 'whatever'.

"I don't know, May. Maybe just find another thing that will make me happy."

The brunette now gazed away from me, a little sigh escaping her pale lips. She shook her head ever so slightly as if she was disappointed with my response.

"No, Drew. That thing is the only thing that would make you happy. Nothing else can."

I frowned, not understanding what she meant. I had plenty to make me happy. My friends, my social status, my looks, my money . . . I didn't need just one thing. What was she talking about? "I wouldn't care about it." I retorted, haughtily. "There are a lot of things that makes me happy. I don't need to be stuck on something. That's just sissy."

May's face fell even more. Her eyes clouded over with sadness and disappointment was written all over her pale, sickly face. But what was she disappointed in? Me? What did she even expect my reply to be? "Then what about me? What if I was going to die and you had only one wish that you can make? Let's say . . . the only thing that would keep me happy would be snow. What would you wish for, Drew?"

I blinked. I thought about the question to myself. What if May would die? What would I feel?

"I would wish for you to get better." I finally said, and looked into her eyes. Of course that was the right thing to say, was it not? She couldn't possibly be disappointed at that answer. But May proved me wrong as she looked up from the blanket and half-smiled, half-frowned.

"You're so stupid." May breathed out with a shake of her head, making her side ponytail swing back and forth. She looked into my eyes and exclaimed: "You're supposed to wish for snow!"

I frowned at her again, crinkling my eyebrows. "But why? I would rather have you alive."

May shook her head again and looked at me impatiently. As if I didn't understand anything. And that was true, though. I had absolutely no clue where she was going with this. "What would be the point of living when I'm not happy?" The girl demanded, her eyes boring into me. "It's better to be happy and die instead of living and being unhappy, right?"

I blinked a little and nodded slowly, understanding her words at last. "That's real deep."

A smile spread onto her face again and her cavernous azure eyes appeared to me like warm, rich hot-chocolate on a wintery day. "I've had time to think about these things."

And I never thought that I would find out what her words meant, the hard way.

Years passed. Day after day, I began to realize that I was in love with May. I didn't know how it happened—it just sort of did. And I didn't like it. Nobody had controlled my life before—not even my parents. And I wasn't about to let some girl do that. It wasn't very shocking to find her attractive out of the others. In high school, she was the prettiest girl in the entire school. She was a cheerleader, part of the 'in' clique—and a lot of jocks were always swarming around her like bees around honey pot.

But I made sure that none of these guys got near her. She didn't know that I was doing this—and I didn't want her to know either. I didn't want anybody to know. Not even myself. But I did know that according to my instincts, I was going to protect her no matter what.

To keep her out of my mind, I began to date various girls. They were all coincidentally brunettes, but none of them matched up to her. Every time I saw her in the halls, I would feel so much that I started to hate seeing her. I hated the way that she could make me feel this way without even uttering a single word. I hated the way that her smile always seemed to brighten up my entire day when nobody else could. And even more—even more than anything else—I hated the way I loved her.

We began to drift further and further apart soon. I avoided her and she was busy with her own life. Our parents met up often—but on most of these occasions, we would remain just . . . polite. All of those deep talks and laughs began to fade into the background, along with any remains of our friendship that we had. As time passed, most of this mere friendliness turned into courteous, awkward little greetings. An occasional 'hey' when we bumped in the hall, a mere 'what's up?' when our paths crossed.

And as much as I thought this would make me happier, it didn't. It made me crave her like a dying beast. I often tried to see her purposely. For instance, when I knew that she had swim practice on Wednesdays at four—I would sneak behind the bushes and watch her from afar. It was crazy that I was doing these things when I could easily just go to her house and see her. But it was a temporary relief for me. It was a drastic measure—something that I would do when I felt like I was going to die if I didn't see her. Her smile and shining eyes never failed to relieve me.

I graduated two years before her. I was accepted to La Rousse University on a football scholarship so I decided to move way up there—thinking that if I knew she was thousands of miles away, I would eventually get over her. She came along to the airport with her parents to say good-bye, and we had a little conversation. If only I knew that was going to be our very last words to each other.

"Congratulations for getting into La Rousse. I hear it's a great school." Her voice was prim and her smile was polite as she held out a little box to me. "This is a little something as a farewell gift."

I nodded and accepted the package, the word 'farewell' sounding heavenly to me. I was so eager to have her out of my life, to forget about the crazy desires that I had for her. "Thanks, May. You really didn't have to." I answered with a polite smile of my own. "We'll keep in touch, yeah?"

It was the brunette's turn to nod, her wavy brown hair bouncing upon her shoulders. I even remember what she was wearing. A little black tee-shirt with a multi-colored graphic design and a denim skirt. Her eyes were weary, her face appearing almost tired. A graceful smile was set upon her lips, but it wasn't that bright grin which traveled up to her eyes. That kind of smile was gone since a while ago. Ever since we strayed apart.

"Yeah," she stretched the word out and glanced back over her shoulder at where my parents and hers were looking at us. I had already said my goodbyes to them. I saved the farewell with May for last. It was supposed to joyous for me—that was what I was thinking. The best day of my life. The day when I would finally stop suffering. Little did I know that I was so wrong. "Gosh, I can't believe that we're . . . we're saying goodbyes this way."

"What way?" I pretended to sound confused, as if I didn't know what she was talking about. As if I didn't know that our relationship changed over the years.

May swallowed hard and looked shakily into my eyes. Her eyes seemed to strike within my body causing my desires to rise up in my chest. I felt sick as a strange nausea sweep over me. The pain—the pain that came with loving May—was back. But not for long; I told myself. "This way. It's almost as if we're strangers, Drew."

"We are strangers." I answered her, the words moving out of my lips bluntly. I clenched my jaw together and stared at her, emotionlessly. I wanted this to be over already. I wanted her to be gone. I . . . I wanted to hurt her. I saw May's eyes wallop in pain but I ignored it like it didn't kill a little piece of me inside. "Aren't we, May? We're not related and I can't say that we're exactly friends either. That means we can only be strangers."

Why did I have to be like this? Why?

"B-But . . ." The brunette stammered, unable to say anything. She looked up at me with the saddest eyes. "I thought we had something special, Drew. All of those years . . . I thought we had a bond . . ."

More nausea swept over me. My stomach lurched but I swallowed it all down. I flicked my hair away from my face and stared into her eyes dully. "We didn't." The words escaped my mouth so quickly, that I hardly had time to see how much hurt flecked through her eyes by such a simple statement. "The only reason that I stayed friends with you is because my parents forced me to."

I kept on going, saying each word like a robot. I stared past her, avoiding her eyes. I knew that once I looked into that endless, beautiful blue, I was going to be unable to continue. It would completely tear me apart. "We had nothing special. I . . . I hated you. I hate how you chirp and how you smile as if there are no worries in the world."

I paused to glance at her face. One glace was enough to fill my entire body with regret. The little inner soft layer of me had died already. All that was left was the hard outer shell. Her expression conveyed horrid and shock. Her cerulean eyes filled with tears. Her little mouth was agape.

How I wanted to grab her by the shoulders, and tell her that it was all a mistake. How I wanted to hug her, pull her close into me, smell her sweet scent and tell how much I loved her.

But I suppressed it all down. Thinking back, I don't even know how I managed but I did. Fixing my cold, lifeless eyes upon her, I shook my head.

"But you know what, May?" I whispered out. "There are worries."

I swallowed again and ran my tongue over my chapped lips. "I'm so happy that I'm going to a place where you won't be there. All of my life, I have been tortured by you. All my life I had to pretend to . . . to like you. To listen to your pointless babbles and put up with your foolishness. I never liked you, May. I . . . I hated you so much that sometimes I wish you were dead!"

I guess that was when a little piece inside of her snapped. Raising her palm, she slapped me across the face. I would never forget her look of utter fury, her livid eyes shining with tears and anger. Her chest heaved, her body shook and trembled.

"Y-You . . . You bastard! I . . . I wish I'd never have to encounter somebody like you, ever again!"

"That makes the two of us." I scoffed as my cheek stung. I wish I could have stopped it. But I started and now I couldn't stop. I saw our parents from far away, looking with horrified expressions on their faces. I bet they had heard it all.

"Attention please. Flight to La Rousse, now boarding. Please check in your luggage and approach to Gate 3. Thank you."

I grabbed my hand luggage from the floor and turned my back. I gazed ahead of me—at the rush of people heading towards different flights—but didn't see anything. All what was on my mind—was her. Her pain. The words she had said. The words I had said. What was I thinking? "See you hopefully never."

Her only response was a sniff and the padding of her shoes against the tiled floor as she walked away from me. I closed my eyes slightly, my chest burning with hurt and then prepared myself to a future that would hopefully be less painful. I walked through the terminal that day, my ears filling with nothing but her words of fury, and my mind on nothing but Maybella Maple.

University was no different than high school. There were the same stereotypes, except that people were more determined in getting excellent grades. Especially the ones in La Rousse University. They were all so competitive. Everyday, my schedule was to wake up, go to classes, do homework, socialize—all the while thinking about her every step of the way. Sure, I dated girls. But they were all disgusted by how I always seemed to forget about them . . . about everything and just go back into the past, reliving the moments with May.

I was slowly dying and my world was fading into black. I got average grades because I tried hard, not because I listened in class. Everything around me just seemed to be unimportant. It was all a blur that happened before my eyes. People were starting to label me as insane because I spaced out so much.

I had occasional calls from my parents. They appeared to be happy way back in Petalburg. Mom informed me that May got into Kanto College and was living up in Kanto with her long-time boyfriend, Kale Jackson that she met after me. I tried to seem like I didn't care about what was going on with her. Like I wasn't the least bit interested in how her life was unfolding. But the horrible thing was that I looked forward to calls with my parents just so that I could hear what was going on with May.

The guys that I hung out with usually asked me who that mysterious girl was. The girl that I always sketched out on my notebooks when I spaced out in class. The girl with the layers of soft brown hair and a big smile on her face. I lied that it was nobody in particular.

When I graduated from University, I found out that May was going to marry that Kale guy. He proposed, she accepted. Nothing more, nothing less.

But that was also the day that I found something terribly wrong with me. I was suffering from leukemia and found out too late. There was nothing more that could be done except put me under useless chemotherapy and wait till the day that I would die. I was immediately placed into the hospital, and my parents were heartbroken. They were by my side, every day and night, just waiting . . . Waiting for the time that they had to say goodbye to me.

The doctors tried, I know they did. They did everything that they possibly could. But it wasn't working. The only way that I could survive was if I had a bone marrow transplant. But I had no siblings and there was nobody who matched my marrow. By about two weeks after finding out that I had cancer, I was almost completely emaciated. All my hair was gone and every day was another day of torment. I had never wanted to die so much in my life.

Dr. Vanderlin prepared me for another round of chemotherapy, poking needles into my body. I didn't even feel the sting. I was so used to pain. Closing my eyes, I let the drugs flow into my veins and found myself drifting away. Blue turned into black and any other color just silhouetted with it. My eye-lids felt so heavy, my body started to lose feeling. I was growing numb by the second.

I yawned or at least I thought I did. I couldn't remember anything I was doing. I felt so tired . . . so tired . . . My eyes fell shut, the darkness engulfing me, swallowing me into its pit. And in the very deep realms of the black, I realized finally what was going on with me. Suddenly words swam into my mind, sounding aged and foreign. I realized how long it had been since I heard that voice . . .

"What would you do if there was only one thing in the world that made you happy—but you found that out too late and that thing is already gone?"

But who was that? Where was I?

My surroundings began to become clearer. A very familiar place stared back at me. A place that was forever lost in time—an image that was frozen for so long. I started to notice that I was overlooking a room. The walls were painted a different shade of pastel on every panel and there were posters, artwork and colors everywhere. The room was so bright, I had to squint to see it clearer.

But when my eyes traveled up to the bed, all the air in my lungs whooshed out of me like somebody punched me in the guts. My heart filled with so much pain and a lump started to form at the back of my throat like something that had clogged the drain.

Sitting up on the bed was a young girl, pale and sickly looking but still beautiful. Her blue eyes glimmered, her smile deepened into her face. But I noticed that she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at somebody facing her, seated on the edge of a chair. I could only see the back of the person's head but I knew who it was. I knew exactly who it was.

It was me.

I started to realize that I was not standing anywhere in the room, but looking from above. What was the meaning of all this? Was I dead? The room opened up, like the roof had just exploded off and there I was, floating above the scene. And she didn't even notice me.

"I don't know, May. Maybe find another thing that would make me happy."

A voice interrupted into my thoughts and I stared, almost wanting to run and shout and go kick myself. I was starting to regret how I let the time pass me by. I regretted it more than anything else in the world. She was given to me by God and I let her slip out of my hands like she was nothing special at all. I had so much time . . . If only I had told her my feelings. If only . . .

The young girl looked sad. Her eyes washed over with grief and her little pale body heaved in a sigh. "No, Drew. That thing is the only thing that would make you happy. Nothing else can."

I covered my ears with my palms, trying to shut out the ghastly voices of the past. It was haunting me, it marred me to no extent. "Please!" I screamed. "Please get me out of here! God—whoever you are—for whatever reason you placed me here—I'm begging you! Please let me out!"

But nothing came out of my lips. I had screamed the words, but only inside my mind. In reality, my lips were sealed shut—and try as I might, the voices of the past seeped in through the palm of my hands, blowing direct daggers to my entire world.

I wanted to shut my eyes, to block out everything that was going on. I wanted to run away, wanted to seal myself in a box and never come out. But fate decided that I had done enough of those in the past. It was sick of me running away from things. It was sick of my endless wishing—wishing away the one thing that I wanted and needed so badly.

"I wouldn't care about it. There are a lot of things that makes me happy. I don't need to be stuck on something. That's just sissy."

I covered my face with my hands, my chest heaving. Tears washed over me and for the first time in my life—I had never felt so ashamed of myself. So horrified by how I had treated her when I had her so close to me. More than anything, I wanted to run into there, hold her for my dear life and tell her how much I was sorry.

I knew that there wasn't anything that made me happy except for her! Nothing in the world, absolutely nothing would make me happy.

"I've learned my lesson!" I cried again, not wanting to see any more of her small, sad little face. Not wanting to hear those ghastly words I had said to her. "I regret it! I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I pushed her away! Please! Just let me out of here! Please!"

To my surprise, my wish was granted. The background faded away into black, the small faces of a past that could never be changed washed away like sandcastles in a wave. The room spun into darkness—everything was pitch black. And suddenly there was a light. A ray so powerful that it stung my eyes and glowed brilliantly into the darkness, consuming it. I shielded my eyes, but it was no use. The glowing white light struck into my eyes like lightening bolts.

I shut my eyes close and yelled as the light illuminated me.

I thought I had finally died when everything became normal once again. Opening my eyes in triumph, I smiled a little—only to see something that killed me again. The sight was haunting and sickening. A less younger version of me stood, facing a girl who had her back to me. Behind me were people rolling trolleys, walking hurriedly along the shiny corridors. There were lit signs hanging above our heads that directed the different gates and terminals.

We—or otherwise I—was back at that damned airport.

"I hated you so much that sometimes I wished you were dead!"

And what a brilliant timing. The words collided against my ears—my own voice sounding crueler and far more wicked than I ever intended to. My chest tightened, my breathing began to grow erratically faster. I wanted to punch myself for saying such words. How could I say such lies? I never hated her. I loved her so much to the point that I started to hate myself for feeling that way. For being unable to tell her about all of my complete devotion for her. I hated myself. But never her. I adored her.

She smacked me across my face. I saw how I was pushed back by the force but my cool and confident smile never left my face.

You stupid asshole! I wanted to yell at myself. Why were you doing this? Why did you have to make things so complicated? Why? Why, why, why?

"I wish I never have to encounter somebody like you ever again!"

Her shriek of utter hurt and hate sliced my heart open into two and I couldn't take it anymore. Tears began to trickle down my face and I hated myself so much. More than anything I wanted to see her again—for real—and tell her that I was sorry, so, so sorry for saying all those meaningless words to her. I wished I could have just been less of a coward. Regrets stung into my entire body.

All I saw was her infuriated face before everything collided into black again.

Way over in a little apartment in Kanto, on a wintery January morning, May Maple received a package. She tossed her long, wavy hair over her shoulder and wondered what it might be. Her soon-to-be husband was still in bed, asleep. The dappled sunlight that shone through the white window panes danced across the kitchen tabletops, shimmering in the air.

The brunette dropped the package onto the table and sat herself down. She slowly peeled the brown paper open, looking inside, trying to uncover what was inside the foiled paper. She hadn't recognized the writing on the package and there wasn't a return address.

Confused, she reached in and pulled out a single white rose. She looked it over in her hands, softly touching the smooth petals. It was fake; she realized. The "dew" drops were merely droplets of glue and the stem was plastic. But who would have sent this to her? Was it Kale? But he was never known for being much of a romantic. Then who could it be?

Her fingers reached into the package once more, hoping that there would be something else to aid her bewilderment. Her slender hand felt the edges of a sharp, crisp paper and feeling happy that she found something, she pulled it out.

It was a letter, carefully sealed inside a manila envelope. A little scent came with it and she held it to her nose. Sure enough, it smelt like roses. On top of the envelope, written in careful neat handwriting, were the words:

To May, to be sent after my death

The woman's eyebrows shot up at the sound of the words. Death? Who died? She pulled on her long bangs and weighed in on the possibilities. She knew nobody who had died recently. So who was this mysterious letter from? Was it a joke?

"Only one way to find out," she whispered softly to herself and carefully tore open the envelope to reveal the white letter, stained with ink. She unfolded the piece of paper quickly, curiosity now taking her over. Her blue eyes ran across the same neat handwriting, reading the words out-loud to herself:

Dear May,

Upon receiving this letter, I think it's best for you to know that I have possibly passed on—and you never will see my face ever again. Who am I, you're wondering? It's Drew. Yes, Drew Hayden—that same guy who you hated and probably still do hate. And I don't blame you, May. I deserve to be hated.

May, what I'm trying to say is that . . . that I'm sorry. I know that it's been long overdue since these words had to be said—but I was being such a coward to do it. I know that I can probably never make it up to you with just my words and that's fair enough. I don't ask for your forgiveness, May.

I thought that before I die—I should tell you that I love you. Don't be shocked by these words, May, I always had. All throughout my life, everything was focused on you. After I went away from you, I couldn't survive. There is absolutely nothing in the world that could replace you.

I remember you once asked me this one question. What would I do if there was only one thing to keep me happy—and that one thing was already gone? Well, I didn't know the answer then, but I do now. That one thing in the world is you. And I lost you. I was stupid enough to wish away something that I had. I took you for granted, being the foolish person I was.

But now it's too late, May. I can never be with you, never hold you, and never get to feel your kisses. I'm in the hospital, dying and just waiting for the day that I would leave this world. I have leukemia, a horrible disease. Doctors say that they have no hope for me anymore. My parents are both crying all day and night. I, myself, am just numb.

If there was anything in the world that I could have before I die—it would be to see you. Your bright blue eyes and your beautiful smile. But I'm afraid that isn't going to be possible anymore. My life is fading fast and I'm feeling so tired, so sleepy . . . just wanting to close my eyes and let everything go.

But I can't die without letting you know that I love you. Do you see the rose that I've put in? The day that rose wilts is the day that I'll stop loving you. And I know you're probably thinking to yourself that it's fake—it'll never die. Then that means that I'll never stop loving you. Ever. I just wish I could have told you sooner.

You can throw this letter away, tear it into pieces, stomp on it, burn it—anything. These words probably don't mean a thing to you and they don't even matter anymore. But all I want you to know is that my whole life was dedicated to you and you alone.

I heard about your engagement with Kale. I'm happy for you, May. You're getting the happiness that you truly deserve. Marry him. And promise me that you won't let my words stop you from carrying a happy life together. I'm the odd one out of this equation, huh?

Good-bye, May. I love you.

Yours forever,

Drew Hayden

Pitter. Pitter. Pat. Pat.

The rain nosily fell upon the roof of a lone, silver car and inside, two people sat in silence. The blur of the aromatic Eucalyptus trees rushed passed the party-fogged windows as a beautiful woman stared out of it. Her hair fell across her back in long curls and her blue eyes were fazed with fatigue. The atmosphere inside the car was stuffy and she felt the urge to almost kick open the doors and run in the rain.

But her conscious stopped from doing that. After all, she had a destination to go to. She turned her eyes over to the man beside her and gazed at him for a while. He wasn't the man that she wanted to be beside her—but the man that had found his way into her Fate and was beside her, despite her will. She had spent many of the years of her life with him—but not as much compared to Drew.

Drew . . .

May sighed and ran her eyes across Kale's features. He was very handsome with a well-shaped face and good-natured green-blue eyes that always flecked with gold in the sun. He drummed his long, slender fingers across the steering wheel of the Toyota car.

His eyes glanced towards her and he smiled gently.

"What?"

May returned the soft smile and twisted the edges of the white envelope placed into her hands. "Just thinking."

Kale grinned, the crinkles reaching to his eyes. He unfolded one hand from the wheel and reached out, grabbing one of her ivory hands, entwining the fingers together. "About me?"

May glanced at his hands around hers and let out a little sigh through her nostrils. She looked up to his face and saw Drew instead. He was smiling, his bright electric green eyes twinkling. The cavernous dimples beside his cheeks deepened as he grinned.

"Yeah," she breathed out, diverting her gaze towards her shoes. "But I'm also thinking about Drew."

Kale smiled and nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. "I understand, baby. I was just joking. I know what feels like to lose a friend. Especially one that's been so close to you since you were a kid."

May lowered her eyes towards the hem of her skirt. Her heart tightened, for some reason—and she felt somewhat like she was keeping a secret from her fiancé. It was no doubt that she loved him, but sometimes she felt guilty and for no apparent reason. . .

"Yeah," she repeated and sighed. "But I-I don't know, Kale. I used to be so close with Drew—and then one day, we just . . . we just strayed away from each other. And now that he's gone . . . I feel so . . . so empty. I just still can't believe this. I keep on thinking that it's all a joke and people would be laughing at me when we get there."

Kale smiled slightly as he kept his eyes on the deserted road that would lead them towards Richmond Cemetery. "May, darling—there won't be anybody there. His funeral was done since a week ago."

"I can't believe that I got the news so late," the woman sighed and shook her head. "I wish that I knew this sooner. Maybe I could've seen him in the hospital before he . . . passed away."

The brown-haired man didn't know what to reply to his fiancée and so he just let the silence drift over the cool atmosphere. The balmy air ventilating from the heater of the car made no attempt to warm the two inside. May's fingers were ice-cold and so were Kale's.

After a while of driving in silence, they finally reached their destination. Kale parked the car underneath a frosty pine tree and raised his brows. "Well this is Richmond."

The brunette beside him nodded her head and undid her seatbelt, opening the car door. She stepped out into the chilling air, her hair swaying in the winter breeze. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground and the soil crunched as she followed the rusty white pickets that separated the dead from the living.

Kale followed May, wrapping the scarf around his neck tighter as the wind howled. It was almost one of those horror movies where the wind was warning them to stay away from the dead. He laughed silently to himself. What a stupid thought.

They both got to the big overhead entrance of the cemetery. It was old, paint-washed, weather-worn metal bended so that it formed a big moat. On it was written the words 'Richmond Cemetery' in old cursive handwriting. Beside the words was a picture of a baby angel, looking up at the sky. May started to wander around the big place. Everywhere there were marble tombstones, some big, some tiny.

Some were heavily decorated with pictures of angels, seraphs and all kinds of symbolic creatures that were signified to be good. Flowers were placed on some of the tombs, the others were mostly empty. It almost seemed like there was nobody in this world who visited them. All were busy with their own lives, their own problems . . . the dead were just simply unimportant.

There were no visitors to be seen. Probably most had decided today was a far too chilly day to go visit the dead people they once knew. The snow mixed with dirt to form a muddy slush, which spread evenly across the graves like tucks.

May brushed her white skirt as she kept on walking, searching for where Drew was placed. She held a bouquet of roses in her hands, tied together with a red ribbon. The roses were red, a deep velvety wine red—Drew's favorite color.

Her fiancé followed quietly behind her, timidly observing his surroundings. He read the names engraved on the tombstones quietly in his head, and let his mind drift as May lead the way.

Suddenly she stopped. He stopped right behind her, and looked over her shoulder. She was crying.

May sniffed, wiping the tears away from her face quickly. There was his grave. It wasn't exactly a big grave, but it was bigger than most of the other tiny ones. It was made out of blue marble. Shiny and new.

She ran her slim fingers across the words printed onto the slippery stone and let one sob escape her throat. She swallowed her tears down and shook her head gently. On the grave, it read:

"Drew Hayden. 1984-2008. An excellent son and friend, devoted life-long to his one true love. May he forever rest in peace in the clouds above him."

She held a hand to her mouth to control her sobs and placed the flowers on top of his grave, joining all the other bright blossoms. Afterwards, she hesitated, before speaking.

"Hi Drew," escaped her mouth in a tiny whisper. She hadn't called that name in so long. It sounded foreign against her lips. "I-I can't believe that you're really gone. You really left me, Drew." Then she laughed a little, a trickle of tear running down her cheek gently.

"But I forgive you. I forgive you for everything. I never had held a grudge against you and I never will. I'm sorry that I didn't see you sooner—I didn't know where you were . . . Or whether you really did want to see me."

Her voice cracked in her throat, and she took a deep breath. Kale wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, soothing her sobs. She finally fidgeted with the letter in her hands. "This . . . is for you. This letter contains the words that I never got to say to you . . ."

She dropped the white envelope on the grave, in front of where the words were engraved. She then turned around and hugged her fiancé, sobbing into his shoulder. He patted her back gently, kissing her hair and whispering soothing words into her ear.

May finally controlled her tears and with one last final glance at the lone grave where Drew lay, the two walked away . . .

Dear Drew,

Oh my God, do you have the slightest clue on what I felt when I read your letter? I-I don't know what to say! I'm left speechless. I forgive you for your words, I really do. And I'm sorry too. I never meant the words that I told you. And I'm so glad that you don't mean them either because you really tore apart my world that day, Drew.

I just want you to know that I . . . I love you too. I always had. I've hidden it for so long.

I've admired you since we were kids. When we grew up, you were like my rock of faith. I died inside when I heard you say that you hated me—I did. I wished I could've known about your disease sooner. I could have done something. I'm sorry, Drew.

I'm going to marry Kale in two months. And I'll follow your advice and be happy. But I won't forget you. Not in a million years. Our little story was tragic, but not all stories end like this. If it's not happy—then it's not the end, is it?

I'll visit you often and I'll tell you all about what's going on with my life. And you can tell me some of your stories too. I'll listen, Drew. I really will. Do you promise you'll tell me everything?

I'm so sorry if you can't see the words because of all the ink smudges. I'm trying really hard to stop the tears, but they won't listen to me.

This is good-bye, Drew. For now . . .

May Maple xo

And somewhere above the clouds, where all human living was free—I, Drew Hayden, found peace. I'm like a dove that's set free. The chains that shackled my body no longer existed—and I watch over her, every step of the way. And I wait for her . . . I wait patiently for the day that she comes to me. And till that day, I'll be dreaming of angels on the moon and of a normal, happy life spent with the love of my life.

-Suzie x