these fingers have wiped (too many) tears

the snowflake landed on her nose. all i wanted to do at that point - all i could do - was admire her. i took in her smile, the same smile i had fallen in love with all those years ago. i knew it wasn’t for me, but, for my own sake, i pretended that it was, that he wasn’t the one inducing her joy, lifting her features and making them even more beautiful than usual. her green eyes shone brightly, showing no evidence of the pain i knew she’d felt before as she stared at the boy, reaching out to take his hand. he smiled back at her, using his free hand to brush the snowflake off of her nose, a tender gesture that softened her features. i clenched my fist, wishing i hadn’t stepped out of the pub for air. if i hadn’t, maybe i would’ve been spared from watching them share this quiet evening moment in a secluded snowy lane.

all i felt was jealousy and heartbreak. it used to be my fingers gently brushing her face, my fingers stroking her scarlet hair, my fingers wiping away her tears. it used to be me. he said something to her quitely, almost bashfully. the corner of her lip twitched as she nodded. i could see her breath catch in her throat, and then, he was leaning in. no. no. no. he pressed his lips against hers, with a feather-light touch that seemed to make her swoon. her eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him back, and even for me, the world seemed to freeze. save for the snow swirling around them, everything stopped. his hands were on her waist, those damned fingers hooking around the belt loops of her jeans to pull her closer, while hers threaded into his hair. eventually, they pulled away and after a moment of staring at each other and regaining their breath, they laughed softly. she smiled that same smile i had fallen in love with, and i knew, without even looking at him, that he was falling in love with it, too.

i stepped out of the pub for a moment, not intending to stay. curiosity tempted me, but i suppose curiosity really does kill the cat. the black wooden bench i was sitting on, acting as if i was really reading the pretentious book my grandfather had sent me, was starting to feel more uncomfortable and frozen than before. as if reading my mind, the wind picked up slightly, and with it, i shivered, finally standing up to leave. for a moment, i thought i saw those emerald eyes flit towards me, but when i turned around, hoping for one last glimpse, she and the boy were walking away, their cold, icy fingers entwined.

the reminiscence and nostalgia stabbed at me like a sharp knife. i tried to push it out of my mind, but seeing her made it all flood back. every smile. every kiss. every bit of pain. i knew it was useless to pretend that we were always good together; we weren’t. i figured that was the difference between him and i. we both loved her; that was clear as day. i had always loved her, wanting nothing more than her love in return. he had always loved her, too, but wanted nothing more than her happiness, even if it meant losing her. i remember being unable to bear the thought of losing her, which made the day i did all the more agonizing. as i walked down the deserted, snowy street, unsure of where exactly i was headed, i felt a snowflake come to rest on my nose. my fingers reached up and brushed it away, along with a fresh tear that had barely begun to roll down my face.