Kiko stood by the window, his hand pressed against the cool glass. The city below was a blur of lights, each one flickering like a memory he could not reach. Mars sat on the couch, her head tilted back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. Neither of them spoke, but both of them knew the weight of what was unsaid.
He watched her from the corner of his eye, the way her hair fell around her shoulders like it always had, the way her hands rested on her lap like she was waiting for something. Anything that would make sense of all this. But Kiko knew there was no sense to be made. They were too late.
“Do you ever wonder if we were meant to be something else?” he asked, his voice soft, almost afraid to break the silence.
Mars did not look at him. She never did when he asked things like that. She just shifted her eyes. “Something else?”
“Another life,” he said, his heart heavy in his chest. “A life where… we could be together.”
She let out a slow breath, and Kiko felt the space between them grow wider. "Maybe," she whispered, though he could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “But we’re not. Not here. Not now.”
Kiko took a step forward, his feet dragging like he was walking through mud. Every part of him screamed to reach her, to pull her close and make it right, to erase the distance between them. But he knew better. He always had.
“We are like two parallel lines,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Always side by side, but never touch.”
Her eyes found him then, and for a moment, he saw something in her—the same thing he’d been feeling all this time. A deep, quiet sadness that seemed to stretch on forever, like a river with no end.
“I wish we were something else,” he said, his voice breaking now, the words slipping out like they had been waiting for years to be said. “I love you, Mars. I love you more than anything, but I can’t keep pretending this is enough. I can’t keep pretending we’re not drowning in what we cannot have.”
She stood up then, slowly, like every movement took everything she had. She didn’t say anything. Just walked to him, her footsteps quiet but heavy with everything she was holding back. When she reached him, she lifted her hand to his cheek, her touch gentle, like she was afraid to leave a mark.
Kiko closed his eyes, the warmth of her touch burning through him, and the tears came before he could stop them.
“I know,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I know.”
And in that moment, he thought he could hear the sound of their hearts breaking at the same time. But neither of them could stop it.
“I wish I could make it different,” Mars said, her voice barely audible. “I wish I could fix us. But we cannot.”
Kiko reached out, his hands trembling as he touched her face, tracing the curve of her cheek. It was the last time. He knew it. She knew it. But neither of them could speak it aloud.
“I love you,” he said, his voice ragged. “And maybe in some other life, we don’t have to let go. Maybe in another world, we could have been everything.”
Her tears matched his now, falling in quiet rivers down her face. She didn’t answer, didn’t need to. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him, the kiss soft, tender, and full of everything they could not have.
When she pulled away, she looked at him for a long moment, and for the first time, Kiko saw the full weight of everything they had never said.
“I will always love you,” she whispered, “but we can’t.”
He nodded, his heart breaking with every word she spoke. He stepped back, but his eyes never left hers, and he knew deep down, that this was goodbye. That this would always be goodbye.
And in another life, maybe, just maybe, they could have been.
DoubleSpeak 