Purging Guilt, Pt. 2

The last time I saw you we sat on the hotel bed counting the minutes until you had to leave. At least I was counting. I had long, long hair then and you braided tiny pieces in that casual way you had. Always cool, always casual, always a-ok.
You sighed when you said it was time to go and tucked my hair behind my ears. We kissed lightly, hugged tightly.
I remember I was so sick of goodbyes. I was never good at them.
I walked you to the door, hugged you again. As you walked away, I reached out and grabbed your arm, spinning you back to me and we kissed in that crazy way. Soft but intense, magical but sad. Arms wrapping around each other, me in my underwear and braids, you with that power over me. We kissed like we'd never see each other again.
We didn't.

A couple years later, I was with someone else. Someone I loved. To protect and make that person feel secure, I didn't answer your call. I didn't return your call.
Six days later, you pulled that trigger and made everyone say goodbye to you. I still hadn't gotten any better at goodbyes.

Rationally speaking, no one would blame me. I shouldn't blame myself. But fuck if that doesn't sneak up on me sometimes, usually when I'm just falling asleep. Half awake, half conscious. The most vulnerable part of someone's day.