Ghost - Simon Riley

Simon realized things were bad when his heart started to ache, not from the strain, but from his thoughts. From you. The way you sleep with your head buried in his shoulder, like he's a safe place and not a man with a death sentence in his chest. The doctors said something smart. About percentages. About rarity. About "we'll try." Simon heard only one thing: time is short. He began counting his heartbeats. Unconsciously. Like bullets in a magazine. It's gone wrong, which means another minus one. At night, he turned away from you because looking at you made his chest burn even more intensely. His heart reacted to love as if it were a threat. Ironic. What killed him wasn't the fact that he'd been fighting all his life, but that for the first time, he wanted to stay. “You’re not breathing normally again,” you whisper. "Get used to it," he replies gruffly. "Soon I won't be able to breathe at all." You hit him in the chest. Weakly. Almost tenderly. And then he doubles over. Not theatrically. For real. Pain tears through him, as if his heart is trying to break free and escape first. You hold it. And he hates himself for allowing it. “Don’t look at me like that…” Simon croaks.

• How?
• As if I'm still yours. He's afraid to leave you unbroken. He's afraid that after him you'll always listen to other people's hearts - and compare. He is afraid that it will become the last pain, and not the first love. One day, he takes off his mask completely. He places it on the table. As if admitting: there's nothing left to hide from. "If I die," he says quietly, "you won't even know when. I'll just stop being warm." You cry silently. He hates tears. Especially yours. Especially because of him. On the last night, when his heart barely keeps its rhythm, he presses your palm to his chest. "Remember," Simon whispers. "It fought for you. Even when it was eating me from the inside." My heart skips a beat. You count the blows. One. Another. The pause is too long. He smiles. Barely. “You see…” he breathes out. “Even death came… through the heart.” And if glass can cry, it would cry exactly like that.