Page 94 of To Catch a Firefly

He nods, a short, jerky thing.

“This,” I say, pointing between us. “You still want this?”

The noise he makes is a wounded yes.

“Then make me understand,” I plead, stepping closer. He doesn’t back away this time, and I reach out. Tentatively, he places his hand in mine, his skin warm but not warm enough. He has to be freezing without a coat on. “If you can’t say it, then write it down or do whatever you need to do. But I need to know what’s going on inside your head right now. Believe it or not, El, I can’t read your mind.”

For the first time, I get a hint of a smile, but it’s a tiny thing. Frail.

“Can’t ask…” he says, trailing off.

My thoughts hop backwards. “Can’t ask what? You can’t ask me to stay?”

He shakes his head quickly. A confirmation.

“Why not?” I press. “Because it’s selfish?”

He doesn’t say a word to that.

“El,” I say, tugging his hand until he takes a small step forward. He’s right in front of me now, body heat warm through the thin layer of his shirt. His nose is red, brown eyes sad. “Iwantyou to be selfish in this. Ask me to stay. Tell me to stay.”

He looks like he wants to speak. He licks his lips a few times, clearly struggling. “Can’t,” he finally says.

My breath whooshes out of me.

He grunts, eyes moving again, looking for answers above us. Finally, Ellis tugs his hand free. He holds his palms out, telling me to wait.

“What?” I ask, watching him head toward the door.

He stops, spins toward me, and does it again.Wait.

I hold my hands in the air, but as Ellis disappears around the corner, my arms flop loose at my sides. “Fuck,” I mutter, looking up at the fireflies. “Do you know what’s going on?”

They don’t answer.

It’s several minutes later when my phone pings in my pocket. I almost ignore it, but with nothing else to do and my limbs turning to icicles, I grab it. There’s a text from my dad letting me know he brought my things inside, but that’s not what catches my attention. It’s the email from Ellis.

I click it open as my phone continues to ping, more emails coming through. This one is dated in the subject line. Written today. Just now, if I had to guess.

Luck. I’ve never been good with words. You know that. I don’t know how to explain to you that I only want you to be free. You’ve always had an adventurer’s spirit. You’re wild and beautiful and tied to the wind. I don’t want to keep you here with me. I’ve never wanted to be the reason you miss out on your remarkable life. I’ll be happy with what we have now. If I have you, I have everything I need. You don’t need to do this for me.

We were twenty-one when you asked me whether I wanted girls or guys. The answer was neither because it was always only you. No girls. No other guys. No other person has held my heart the way you do. It’s been yourssince the moment we met, I think. I held your heart that night in your dorm, too. I don’t know if you remember that.

I never thought we’d be here, Luck. It’s always been me and you, but now, it’s really us. It’s us, and I promised myself I would never hold you back. I break and bend old jars for you because I won’t ever trap you in glass. You’re my firefly, and you deserve the life you’ve always strived to live. You won’t lose me just because you’re gone. I’ll always be here waiting. I just ask that you come back to me.

Keep flying back to me.

I wipe my eyes as the screen blurs. I read the email again and again. And then I look at another. There are dozens now in my inbox, all sent within minutes but dated back years. He’s been writing these foryears.

I work my way through them, my hands shaking.

Hey, Luck. When I woke up this morning, the sky was a gentle cyan that made me think of you.

Hi, Luck. You’re here, did you know that? I held your hand less than ten minutes ago, hardly able to believe the flesh and bones beneath my palm were real.

Luck. Hey. I don’t like this. There’s a distance between us that never used to be there.

Hey, Luck. I can’t help but wonder if I’m dreaming. It feels that way. Less than an hour ago, you were in my bed, so warm and soft tucked between me and the sheets.

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