Mr. Nobody

They called him Mr. CRAFT...Can't remember a fucking thing.

They separated and he was faced with a decision. He could not choose for he does not know what will happen. But now that he knows what will happen, he could not choose.

His mother left his father for another man. He was nine and she expected him to run, so he did. His father called his name and his shoe lace snapped and fell off altogether, but he continued to run. Time passed, he tried to cope and did the best he could. But he was not meant to fit in, and then on a hot school day, by the beach with the sun and the sand, she came. The weather was hot and the water was warm. They played and screamed, but he stayed because he cannot swim. She stayed and told a lie, he stared then she smiled. On a summer night, in a 70's themed flat, his mother introduced a man. They knocked and his mother let them in, it turned out to be her father alongside her. He saw her and she stared back. They're future was planned out, they were to live together, but they are not brother and sister. Not really.

He sneaks into her room when the night came, the hall is dark but he can see the outline of her door. Their parents are in bed but not asleep, he reminds himself as she does so herself: he is not his father and she is not her mother. No need to knock for the door is open, he goes inside and she is awake. Slowly he creeps into her bed; she lifts her blanket to let him in. Face to face, skin to skin. He wonders whether she could hear his heart pounding, she knows he can feel her breathing. She then touches his face and traces his lips. He in return swipes away the hair from her face and stares straight into her eyes. Only little light can come inside the room, but their sight had already adjusted to the darkness. She closes her eyes and the hum of his heartbeat is her lullaby. They're fifteen and they're in-love.

It's become a habit. Every night he comes in, every night she lets him; they keep silent so no one can hear. The hair on his skin stands as she traces every detail on his face: the freckles on his skin, the curve of his lips, the lashes on his eyes, and the curve of his chin. Closer and closer, their lips meet. Her scent drives him mad, lust devours him whole. A little taste of him got her wild and she wants more. Her hands shake as he grasps every part of her body. He couldn't help but think how soft and warm she was. The tempo was fast but they kept up with it, together dancing under the sheets. Innocence turns into incest, but they're not really related. Not by blood. Not by marriage. Not by vows.

Every morning he wakes up and hurries before his mother notices. There was once a very close call, but the thrill only drove them to go on. He spends every night in her room, every morning she wakes up alone. A yawn ends it all, back again in his room already engulfed in sun light. The night's activity leaves him restless, but the ecstasy of it all leaves him awake for the whole day to come.

And then the day came. Laying there in the bed, caught in a tight embrace, his arm suddenly shoots up and she awakes. Are you alright, she asks. A weird dream I had, he says. Then screaming and fighting can be heard from the next door room, their parents were in a fuss, just like a tennis match. Down in the breakfast table everyone was silent. He looks at her, she looks at him. His mother tries to explain but he could not understand, there was nothing to comprehend. She knew but she didn't tell. He searches for answers but she avoids his stare. They had no right, he screams. Chaos breaks and she storms out of the room, he follows.

She knew and she didn't tell. Ten days is all they have left, and then nothing. Tears ran down their cheeks as they lay on the rugged floor, he could not breathe, nor think, nor see how hurt she really was. In that room enveloped in pink, orange, and yellow, with photographs pinned on the walls, they made a promise. Forever. She wants him, he wants her. Remember. The balcony, the kitchen, and the bed. The shades, the sun, and the smoke. Run, run, run around the house, play tag and make a mess. Kiss your eyes, your lips, your neck. On the table, by the wall, under the sheets of the bed. They were fifteen and they were in-love.

I want you. I want you too. Forever. Forever. Whatever happens, there is no life without you. No life without you

Fourteen thousand four hundred minutes, if only time will slowdown or stay still. A tight embrace, and it's not over. A promise: to wait every Sunday near the light house, sitting alone on the bench even on a cold winter day. A locked door, then a whisper of goodbye. There were tears on his eyes and a quiver in her voice. He ran after her, and screamed her name. She was gone and he was too late. He lost her but not forever.

When he whispers, does she hear him say her name? To be in the same place as she is, but not knowing, not showing, just waiting. And then they met, it was that day and not another. To share a kiss and an embrace, just like the old days, they were fifteen again, the colour of red. A smile and a tear, then two more days, she was gone once again. He waits, and she found him. And it was the most beautiful day of his life; then he utters her name one last time: Anna.