A/N: Once again, the story title is not related to the story, its use happened to be the song that inspired me to write this. Title is by Rascal Flatts.
What hurts the most
"See you, Ash..." Misty said, sadly. Once again, they would part. Once again, he'd be lonely.
"See ya, Misty," he replied. He didn't want to let her go. He wanted to tell her how he felt. He could. Maybe she'd like him back.
"Wait, Misty!" he called. She turned, expectantly.
"Yeah, Ash?" Her hair flowed in the heavy wind. He couldn't speak. What was he doing? What was wrong with him?
"I had it, and I just forgot what I was going to say."
So close. So damn close.
He was so close to having her, so close to finally telling her every feeling he'd ever had for her: the feelings of intense anger when she yelled at him, those of misery when she left him, those of happiness when they shared jokes or stories, and the love he'd felt for her since he was a kid.
So. Fucking. Close.
He couldn't stop feeling like an idiot. Why didn't he just tell her how he felt? Why did he let her go? Because he was stupid, that's why.
And now it was too late.
Anger surged through him as he held the piece of paper that made him regret many of his life choices; a piece of paper inviting him to her wedding with HIM. The two had been in a relationship for mere months. He was so close to telling her.
Was he ever really ever close?
He'd had plenty of chances to tell her, but he didn't. In the end, it was his fault. He never had the courage to confess his feelings.
"If anyone has any objections to this union..."
He could do it. He could yell out like they do in the movies. He could run down the aisle and tell her that she didn't belong with him; he'd tell her he loved her. It always worked in the movies.
This isn't a movie, though.
This is real life. How could he do that to her? How would she feel? Would she be happy? Would she be angry? No. He can't. He can't do it. She'd hate him. He knew she would.
"Speak now or forever hold your peace."
He was so close.
She cried on the phone. Her husband had cheated on her. She felt horrible. He attempted to comfort her. She had told him over and over that no one would really love her.
"I love you,"
he could say. He could tell her. Now was perfect. Would she mind?
He opened his mouth to tell her. He'd finally do it after all these years. She told him she had to go. Her husband was home.
He'd been so close, so many times.
She was dying. Her face was pale. She didn't have long left. Cancer made her its victim. She's so young. He sat next to her in the hospital.
"You wanna know something?" The sickly girl spoke. He listened as he held back tears. "I always thought it'd be us," she confessed. She looked him in the eyes. His eyes were wide. He wanted to tell her he loved her. Now was perfect. There wasn't much time. He opened his mouth to speak.
He closed it. He couldn't say it. Tears rolled down his face. She held his hand.
He woke up. The beeping on the machine that judged her life was now a steady sound. No. She couldn't be. He stood from his spot. Doctors rushed into the room. A nurse guided him out the door.
Minutes later they emerged from the room, grim looks on their faces.
"We were too late."
He sobbed. No. He never told her.
He was too late.
A/N: I'm no used to writing angst (kind of). I did take a different approach than I normally would with it, as well. So this is relatively new. Reviews and critism would be greatly appreciated.