What If He Didn't Die?

Chapter 16: Only If...

"Hmm." I shifted my head on his shoulder but continued staying there.

"I won't drink again like that," I promised silently.

"I'd like you to not drink at all." His voice didn't change, but I could easily hear the care and possessiveness in it.

"Why?"

"Don't ask."

"Why do you hate alcohol so much?"

"Don't ask, I said."

"I'm asking you, Daniel," I said firmly.

He sighed but stayed silent in his place.

"I won't ever drink again if you tell me the reason." I looked up into his eyes. "I promise," I added.

He turned to face me, his eyes although blank, seemed to say a lot of things. It felt like he was fighting his own self. He opened his lips and my hopes scored up but somewhere, I was also scared.

The fear of hearing the thing that was making him struggle so much before even bringing it to his lips made me shiver. I wanted to hear it, but I also somehow didn't. But he didn't wait for me to decide.

"My father. Alcohol killed my father." His words dropped one after the other slowly between us and they echoed.

The silence that followed was quieter. I'd never heard something like that. I'd never had a conversion like this ever before.

A conversation about death.

Death was a term alien to me. Hence, I also didn't know how to react to it. I didn't know what response was I supposed to give him.

But I had to say something.

He deserved a reply, something, anything at all. But what?

"I- I'm sorry." I finally hushed. But I had a feeling, very strong, that this wasn't the right response. I felt deeply that this wasn't what he deserved or wanted to hear.

Turning my horrible fear into a haunting reality, he chuckled densely.

But why did he laugh? Isn't that what people say when someone dies? I'm sorry. Although I personally find this phrase terribly inappropriate.

Why do you have to be sorry about that? In fact, what do you have to be sorry about at all? Because, although, I'd never even sensed the 'd' of death, I'm sure, getting pitied by others is the last thing a person needs when they lose someone forever.

"I really didn't expect you too to say this. 'I'm sorry?'!" He laughed more, half-heartedly. His reaction confused me.

"I'm sorry! I mean- not about-" I stopped. I was just saying all the wrong things and his brow furrowed as I fell silent mid-sentence. "Sorry for not saying the right thing."

He smiled genuinely at that. His face contoured peacefully in the faint moonlight and I was convinced once again, that nobody, in their right sense could associate him with darkness.

"It's okay." He cupped my face in his right hand and placed a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Your father, he was-" The moment the words my lips, his eyes started burning deeper than ever earlier and I realized I touched the wrong nerve.

I just wanted to know him better. I wanted to share whatever was hurting him. But maybe he wasn't ready to share that with me. Perhaps, I overestimated my place in his life.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I just wanted to share-. I just-." I closed my eyes in regret. "I just want to be there for you, Daniel. I didn't mean to intrude in your life. I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything again. Just like always. Every time I desperately needed him to say something, he went quiet. I wanted him to say something but instead, he stared at me, even his eyes were silent.

"I- Dan. Really trust me. I didn't ask that out of curiosity. I just wanted to- I, listen- I'm being genuine, Dan, really. I'm-." I fell silent and looked away from his eyes when I failed to see any effect of my apology. I was just causing him more pain.

I should just go away, I realised.

Without wasting any more time, I stood up and my skin instantly missed his warm touch, but I knew this was the right thing to do.

"I'm leaving. Sorry. Will see you-"

He grabbed my wrist and my heart skipped a beat. I looked down at him to find warmth in his clear grey eyes.

"Stay." That was all he said. One word, but that one word was warmer and fuller than anything I'd ever heard leaving his mouth.

I stopped and sat back.

In that one moment, it really did feel like the right thing to do.

But now, sitting alone, with his mere memory, and a diary with a few of his words scribbled on its pages to accompany me, I am forced to wonder. Only if I did not stop that night. Only if I'd decided to leave him at it.

Things would've been way different. Maybe better, maybe, worse. But certainly not the same.

Nothing could've been the same had I not heard what he said further. I cannot help but wonder, how could've things been had I taken a different decision that night.

Only if...