Bad, Bad Habit of Mine

"I have a habit of remembering everything."

"That's great though. It must come in handy, you know, with work meetings and I know it did with school.. with your GPA", he flashed his signature smile, and then I remembered the first time he ever looked at me like that."

***

I was a freshman in college, awkward, and uncomfortable.

I had been staring, lost in thought, into my cup of water. And he had been staring, lost in thought, at me. When we both snapped out of it, he beamed at me, and that was the moment I knew he'd change my life.

***

"Yeah, now you know why I did so well, so it's a blessing I guess", I smiled and swished my drink around in the glass, unintentionally recreating our first interaction. "But it's also a curse," I sighed.

"Why?" he asked, with a mouth full. I can't help but smile at this boy.

"Because I remember everything, both the good and the bad. The way someone held me. The last words someone said to me. The first time someone smiled at me."

My stomach lurched. I knew that I was talking about him, and I hoped that he did too.

"I remember how it feels like to love someone and how it feels like to lose them. I remember it all, and the pain doesn't lessen with time. Trust me, it's a curse to relive losing someone every time you think of them."

"Do you remember stuff about me?"

"Of course. You love pasta, and visual design is your passion. The first time you told me you loved me, you didn't mean to. I had been acting like an idiot..."

"As usual," he cut in.

"Shut up," I laughed.

“You love the color black, and you don't like being vulnerable. You didn't know you had a talent in music until you were in college. Your left foot can wrench at any time because of that car accident you had..."

My voice trailed off, and suddenly, the wooden table in front of me seemed like the most interesting thing in the world, anything to keep myself from meeting his eyes, "I know it's creepy. I...I remember too much."

He shrugged and smiled ruefully, like the temptation was too great to pass up, "does it still hurt to think about us?"

"Yeah, it does. More than you'll ever know."

Sometimes I'd look at him and he'd look at me and we'd just know, you know? Our eyes spoke more than our mouths ever did. Some of his glances said "I want you right now" and others  said "it's okay, I'm here", but as time passed by they turned into looks of "I miss you too" and "I'm sorry we couldn't fix things."

"He still asks about you, you know."

She gets a spang of longing and hurt in her chest, "I know."

She whispers, "do you ever think about getting in contact again?"

She's silent for a moment.

"...I would love nothing more than to run to him," she says, smiling, thinking back to him. "...But so much happened. So much hurt. I was broken after it ended. I can't risk having to say goodbye again, it destroyed me for a long time. So, would I want to? I would love nothing more. Will I? No."