This is my first time with something like this. The prompt is for a contest on another website. I suppose this could be interpreted in many ways, so let me know what it may mean to you. I'm really interested in thoughts and critiques on this.
It was the one thing he coveted most. And yet, it slipped away just too easily. I watched him for years, silently counting away the days he spent, ignoring anything that would ruin it for him. He just had a way with that. This same problem, always spitting him in the face, laughing at him, mocking him. And yet, as self-assured as seemed, he never looked so truly open.
Morbid thoughts controlled his thoughts constantly. Everyone that pushed him away in his life killed a small part of his heart. He always bounced back afterwards, taking a little longer each time, his smile a little bit more forced every time we met. My dense pride and indifference however, is what drove him to this.
I shook him repeatedly, my pleas for him to wake up falling on deaf ears. Cold sightless eyes gazed up at me, almost a glare, as if this was my fault. I cast my eyes down, knowing the truth. He steadily got paler, as if it were a possibility. I brought my eyes up as I looked upon his face. He looked almost younger like this. So much more, innocent. Very unlike the worn man that has seen everything. The man that has conquered death. The man that I have come to know and love. I grasped his hand, feeling his cold blood on my mine. I let one hot tear fall down my cheek for the first time in several years as he continued to stare at nothing. I released his hand and wiped my face. I tried to glare at him, failing abysmally. I couldn't be sad for him. This was his choice after all. His hopelessly awful terrible choice. But still his. Even with this in mind, it still didn't stop me from wanting to bring him back just to kill him for this new mental lapse of his.
I couldn't help but not understand this. He always seemed so full of life. So spirited and expressive with everything he tried. He had such a great mind. He was just what I needed, and he wanted me of all people. If only I had realized what I had. But regrettably I just had to push him away, keeping him at bay for his own good. Look what good that did now…my harsh words and actions are at fault for this tragedy. As much as I would love to blame him for this, I'm the only guilty party here. I stood back up, staring down at him again, hoping this was just another elaborate scheme of his. I sighed as I turned away from his body. I walked away in silence, thinking about all the things I could have done to stop this. Being nicer, not intentionally putting him in a frightful situation, and just overall treating him better. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
What is the point behind what if's when you've broken the one thing important to your love?