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It seems too small a concept: a break up. Well, Robert supposes it works in the sense that he's a broken man, that his heart has shattered into innumerable pieces, that he's no longer WHOLE.
But a... a 'break up'. It sounds too normal, too everyday. It sounds like too small a thing to encompass the dread he feels when he thinks of hours, days, months, years, an entire LIFETIME without Aaron. The idea is something that he can't quite get his head around. The idea of living and dying, of the pull of gravity, of the inescapable mass of the universe is easier to comprehend than the thought of Aaron no longer being in his life.
Hours are only known by the number of times he's refilled his glass: whiskey, beer, wine, anything he can find in the house. The press of time is heavy. It feels endless. An eternity of nothing.
Nothing has ever felt like this. It makes him laugh sometimes: at least now he knows for sure what love felt like; FEELS like. It's torture.