I want to believe him. When he whispers promises of forever in my ears, when he tells me over and over how much he loves me, how he'll never leave me. I want to hold him tight and trust that when he says he'll never let me go, he means it. I know that he believes, that he tells himself over and over again that this is it, that this is real, and true, and we've overcome the obstacles. And a part of me, sometimes, can almost let go. I can almost believe it when he tells me how this time it really is forever.

Then I remember the past. I remember the promises broken, the lies he told himself, and me, to make it seem like he was doing the right thing. I remember watching him walk away, and then just disappear into the mist, and feeling as if the world really had ended, as if we hadn't just stopped an(other) apocalypse. I remember the lies my mother told me, about getting over love, about how one day I would look back and not feel like my heart was breaking all over again. I remember countless sobbing sessions, times when minutes, hours, days, weeks all rolled into one, and I didn't know if he'd left an hour ago or a month ago because it still hurt so bad. It felt like my soul had been torn in two, like I'd never ever be whole again, and worst, I didn't want to be – not without him.

And I remember lies we told ourselves, when we saw each other in L.A. I remember shouting at him, I remember him hitting me, and the 'nobody' comment that hurt more than the hit ever could. And I think of how we tried to hurt each other, as if it was the only possible way we could communicate, because we'd tried so hard to convince ourselves the lies were true, we could almost believe they were. I look back, and wonder how we could hurt each other so much, and realise that we did more damage in an hour than we did in the year without his soul.

But then, I remember a time before the lies. A time when we both thought 'forever' was real. And the happiness, the joy that I felt then was so overwhelming that at times I felt like I would burst. And I remember the feeling of our first time, of the love that shone between us so brightly that I could almost see it. I remember the feeling of him surrounding me, entering me, filling me. That sensual, wonderful, excruciatingly blissful feeling that could only come from the feeling of him inside me, touching me, our souls connecting on the most primal of levels.

And, also, I remember the simple times, a shared laugh, a soft kiss, the glint in his eyes as we would tease each other. I think of all the passion that fills him, the love that we share, the connection so deep that not even death has severed it. I think of snow, and of baking cookies. Of Halloween, of one magical Christmas, of birthdays, of a funeral. Of too many apocalypses to count on both hands. Of the ones we lost, and the ones we've managed to hold on to, of graduation, of the stages of our lives we've passed one by one.

And he looks me deep in the eyes, chocolate meeting flashing green, and he tells me that we'll be together forever, 'that's the whole point', and I can almost believe him.