CONTAINS CONTENT:
Sensuality, nudity.
{{Unedited}}
After Marielle and Austin ate, and cleared dinner from the table, they both washed the dishes side by side.
Then they wandered back to the living room where he aimlessly went to his piano and sat down. He played a song that she vaguely knew with sadness in his eyes, and tone. Let’s Hurt Tonight by OneRepublic.
“Appropriate,” she whispered, slumped on his couch.
He wrapped his arms around his middle and shrugged. “Well, I can’t write anything of my own, so…” He came and sat with her for a while as both stared into nothing.
Both felt the weight of time slipping away as the clock seemed to scream in the silence of the room, each tick feeling like a needle. He thumbed the spot where his name was indented into her flesh on the back of her neck. There were ridges, but it had faded. He felt his stomach twist with the pang of the inevitable.
Her own stomach twisted, feeling his despair and she sighed. She wanted to give him something that he could keep.
She swallowed hard and turned to him. “You- you wanted pictures of me, right?”
His heart sped up. “What?”
Her green eyes were glassy and childlike. “In red?” He couldn’t find air. “In…very little red?”
He dragged a shaky hand down his face, then looked into his palm for a moment as he pulled it away. He flexed his fingers and dropped them into his lap. “What are you doing to me?”
“I want to give you something.” There was a pause as she saw his attempts at swallowing and failing. “N-not nude, but-”
“Oh my gosh.” His blue eyes were wide, focused.
“I trust you.” She leaned in and gave him a small kiss on the mouth. He was sitting in stunned silence. “What do you want me to wear?” she asked, her tone dripping.
“Uh…” his mind felt like it’d broken, like he was mentally looking over too many options.
She took his hand and led him to his bed, opening his closet. With a finger to her mouth, her eyes moved over the selection of clothing and she reached in, selecting one of his shirts; a particular one. The one that he was wearing the night that he tried to seduce her- on the bed that he was sitting on now, his back steel.
She threw the shirt onto the bed next to him and he looked down at it, gently fingering the collar. He knew as well as she did the significance of her choice.
She also pulled out a red tie and threw it onto the shirt.
Then she turned to him and smiled, mischievously. “Okay, done.”
He looked down at them and tried to remember how to breathe. “This is all that you want to wear?”
She nodded, her eyes like a little girl, excited and a bit scared, “yeah.” There was a pause. “That and…”
He breathed out, a hand over his heart. “Okay.”
She turned around and removed her tank top and he froze, watching her back and the way that her shoulder blades and muscles moved as she tossed the small shirt aside. –Don’t you dare move.
-I won’t. He replied shakily.
Then she unhooked her bra, and dropped it, her right arm over her breasts so they weren’t peeking at him. She motioned for him to hand her the shirt. Trembling, he obeyed. He knew then and there that he’d never wash that shirt again. He prayed that it smelled like her ten years from now as she slipped it over her shoulders and pulled it closed in the front, buttoning one button so it didn’t spill open while she moved around.
She gestured for the tie and he handed her that, too. After she slipped it on, and tied it, she bent, taking her pants down.
He was frozen, his throat going dry. “What? You’ve seen this much before,” she said, mentally nudging him to when they were at the pool together.
“Not exactly in this context, darling.”
She gave him a taunting smirk, and kicked her pants away.
His shirt was acting like a short dress, and the tie was dangling against her skin. No matter how many deep breaths he took, he didn’t feel like he could get enough air. “Go get your camera,” she whispered, leaning into him a little.
His hands ran up her sides, feeling the smooth, cool of the fabric as it formed itself against her body. He nodded, obeying.
She took his hand and led him out to his piano, where she closed it over the keys, and sat on the very top of it; her bare feet on the lid.
All that he could do for a minute was stare.
With her knees bent up, she was revealing a lot more to him now, and his skin pricked with hunger and enchantment. -Is this really happening?
-Yes.
She was leaning on her arms, her fingers curling over the edge of the piano top and he was searching his memory banks for a time that he’d ever seen anything so perfect. “Two of your favorite things, darling.”
“Three,” he corrected, quickly. “You, red, and the piano.”
She smiled, and reached up, unbuttoning the single button. Again, he froze as the shirt fell a little more open. It wasn’t showing anything, but he’d never seen so much of her skin. “Marielle,” he breathed, tortured…confused. He knew her so intimately and yet, this was entirely new territory.
“Just take the pictures, tiger,” she purred.
For a moment, he wasn’t sure that he should; he shocked even himself by wondering if this was too much. But he cleared his throat and lifted the camera, clicking. The first was blurry because he was shaking so much.
He let out a little sigh as he looked up from it to her. -You’re beautiful.
-How do you want me to pose.
-Nude. He chuckled. -Laying across the top, your eyes telling me that you love me.
Click. -Not going there.
-I know.
He clicked a photo and looked at the camera, a giant grin formed on his face. “It’s so beautiful,” he said, lifting the camera and clicking again.
She grinned and glanced down, blushing. “Like this?” She put her chin to her shoulder.
“Whatever you want to give me.”
“Everything?” She breathed.
He clicked another, and checked it. A shocked sound that sounded like a scoff came out of his mouth as he rubbed his lips with his palm. “I…” He shook his head. There were no words; he’d already said beautiful twice. -Enchanting? Erotic? Amazing? Perfect? Gorgeous? … Devestating…
She smiled, “All of that, huh?”
He nodded, click. He scooted his arm chair in from the living room and sat in it because his legs were starting to give out on him.
She twisted a little, pulled the fabric of her shoulders down to reveal them, and sat up straight, holding the shirt over her breasts with crossed arms. Click. “I will have no idea what to do with these later,” he admitted, with a sad, shaky sigh. Click.
The shoulder on her right arm slipped down further, revealing skin. He lifted the camera and clicked, then gestured at it with his eyes, “that’s getting dangerous,” he said dismissively, clicking again, then glancing down at the photo. Her hair was in her green eyes and she was looking at him like she wanted him, loved him, needed him… so… perfect…
There was a stillness for a moment- a pregnant pause as her eyes wandered to her bare shoulder, “Is it?” she murmured unsteadily.
Then she raised a shaking hand and slipped the fabric further down.
His gaze was shifting from the photo, to her and back, but when he saw what she was doing, he froze, glaring… She slipped the sleeve down all the way and off, then shakily did the other side as well, letting the shirt fall away entirely; a memory on the floor.
With her arm across her breasts, so that he couldn’t see anything more, the moment that the shirt fell away and slid off the piano, she looked up at him with a childlike vulnerability in her eyes.
He looked back at her, just as boyish and curious as she was… genuine terror also lay behind his eyes, like he’d never done such a thing before. “Put the camera down,” she whispered, panting. He did, setting it on the table. “This is for your eyes, only.”
“What are you doing…?” he breathed, guardedly.
And she slowly let her hands fall away, revealing herself to him; his red tie dangling between her breasts.
For a moment, he mostly kept his gaze on her face; afraid to glance at more. Then, with a boyish innocence and wonder that she’d never once seen on his face, he dared downward, looking her over. She was perfect; he couldn’t have even conjured or imagined this perfection. His trembling was obvious as his eyes met hers, again, begging. -Was this what you wanted?
-Yes. I want you to see me. No pictures, though… j-just your eyes.
He quickly nodded his agreement, then his eyes wandered over her bare chest, committing her to memory, and aching for so much more. He squeezed the arm rest, digging his fingertips in. -Control yourself. She just wants you to look at her.
-I want more, but we’re not doing more. This is it. I won’t change my mind.
He nodded, yes. -It’s enough.
His arousal was evident, but something else stirred that he didn’t understand. She felt it, too. Then something opened up inside of him, like the earth cracking apart and water gushing out and he stood, starting toward her. Her eyes lit up with fear, so he lifted a visibly shaking hand, and locked eyes with her. –Trust me… trust me.
He slowly approached as if walking up to a wild animal, hand up, still shaking. Then, coming closer, and closer until he slipped onto the piano bench between her knees and lifted the flap, revealing the keys. He hadn’t once looked away from her eyes, and he never did after that.
He could feel her warmth, and smell her scent he was so close.
Stunned and barely able to breathe, he started to play a few unfamiliar notes; a pretty, simple melody.
Then he parted his lips, and started to sing.
“Bleeding…
Is so much easier
than losing you.
And the worst day
of my life
felt like something
that you made new.”
Her eyes lit up with wonder. –Are you writing this?
He nodded slowly, disbelieving himself.
“I wish that I
could erase
every bit of past
that causes you pain
but that chasm
is so vast…”
“And they say I’m
cold hearted
but with every prayer I find
that the one thing that
I cannot freeze…is time.”
He barely got the last few words out as he broke a bit. Her face contorted in anguish.
“I never thought
that darkness would be
my friend.
I guess that’s how it goes
when you wish that a night
wouldn’t end.
Cowering in the dark
though, will not
disrupt the light.
It’s supposed to be
a perfect song.
But it feels
like a fight.
They keep telling me I’m running.
But with every breath I find
That the only thing
I can’t outrun is time.”
He quickly wiped the tears from his face; his eyes still locked with hers.
A different chord progression-
“So sing me a song so I can forget.
Cause there’s nothing
I’ve ever been through
that’s hurt this bad, yet.”
“If this is a prison
then throw away the key.
And sing a new song
that’s all about you and me.”
He stopped playing, feeling that there was more in there, but knowing that if he kept going he’d be reduced to nothing but a puddle.
They both breathed for a moment, staring at one another, and he slowly stood and reached a hand out to her. With a tear-streaked face, she took it and he helped her down and slowly bent, finding her shirt, and handing it back to her.
“You don’t need to do this to make me love you,” he whispered.
“I’m not,” she replied. Then she smiled at him as she sniffled, cupping his cheek. They were silent for a moment as she put his shirt back over her and buttoned it all the way down. “You wrote something,” she said excitedly.
“I did,” he said with an astonished nod. Then a grin of realization spread across his mouth, “I did!” He grabbed her around the waist and held her close, spinning her around. “Oh, darling, I did!” He repeated, laughing heartily. Then the reality of what that meant hit him, and he did his best to keep smiling even though the joy faded in his heart; his eyes followed.
It hurt… oh, how it hurt.
-Yes, it hurts. He whispered. “And I love you,” he added, bending down, and kissing her. “My kisses are for you, Marielle. I saved them for you, and I won’t kiss anyone else until it’s you forever, or I find the one,” he said the last few words distantly, knowing that he’d never find the one, not like her. He flicked his gaze back to her again, “I promise.” He gave her a broken smile and cupped her cheek, pressing his forehead in. “You-” he began referring to what she’d just done, “are so beautiful,” he gasped, trembling at the memory of her perfect body.
“Thank you,” she whispered with a twinge of insecurity.
“No, no, Marielle, listen to me.” He looked down at her, tipping her chin to meet his gaze. “I have seen breasts, I have seen bodies, I have done all the things.” She looked down and swallowed, feeling small. A smile crept over his lips, “I’ve never felt much because it was only about sex…” he shook his head, “I’m in love with you. You were like finding lost treasure,” he breathed. He shook his head incredulously, “You- I don’t know what you think of yourself but…” he gestured to his wall behind the piano where one of his photos of a deep red rose lived; perfectly furrowed, dripping, opening. “You’re like one of those roses… perfect,” he said with a small kiss. “Complete. Deep. Blooming,” he caressed her cheek possessively, slowly dragging his fingertips up into her hair. She was silently crying, but she smirked a little. She knew what he meant by blooming. “You opened me up, I’ll never be the same again…” He put his hands at her waist and lifted her a little, holding her close. “I…am…ruined…” He cried.
She sighed and dug her fingertips into his hair, pulling a little. He groaned in tormented bliss as he reached up and gently rubbed the space on her wrist where his name was quickly becoming nothing more than a memory from the jewelry.
-I want you, I want you, I want you… I want to keep you.
-Please don’t hurt me, Austin.
-I can’t hurt you, and I can’t keep you, and I am dying inside.
-Play with me, Austin. Laugh with me. He shook his head and gave her a little silent, adoring chuckle. “I know that your stomach is twisting in agony, and that you are in pain right now, but let me make us dessert?”
He paused only a moment, then nodded, “I told you that you’d have anything that you wanted tonight,” he whispered. “I’ll eat whatever you make.”
She grinned and went to the kitchen in his red shirt, tie, and her little bare feet.
He watched them making prints that quickly vanished against his wooden floor. He followed and watched her dreamily from the arch as she began opening cabinets and stretching to reach shelves, her long legs lengthening and her midsection stretching and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d never seen anything so perfect and again, he had to fight off a wave of truly dark thoughts about locking her away, and the sickness that followed as he scolded himself for even imagining such a thing.
She felt all of it, and paused only for a moment before putting a bowl onto the counter.
He sighed and buried his face into the arch that he was leaning against, hating whatever it was inside of him that kept telling him to do these things to her… that kept planning, and imagining. He’d even gone as far as plotting what he’d gather to keep her entertained, happy, warm, well fed, healthy, maybe she could even have a garden outside somewhere and… Then he imagined shooting himself in the head because he realized fully what it was that he was thinking about, how sick it was, and how he knew that this… this was exactly what started to twist in Tundra’s mind when he’d had her.
He shook his head and gently pounded it against the wall as he started to plan actually killing himself if he even began to do such a thing.
Marielle steeled herself as best as she could as she realized that this plan was working… it was bringing this all out in him… but then what?
She swallowed and pulled a few bars of chocolate from the cabinet, focusing on the bowl, the chocolate, and the fact that she felt a little exposed; small.
Pausing for a moment and thinking about what to do next, she glanced around his kitchen. He was watching her, and his gaze was strong, possessive, and filled with rage. She knew that part of that rage was at her for what she was doing to him. There were moments when she wondered if the monster would win over and she would be in real danger.
However, every time he seemed to have a truly dark thought, it seemed fleeting and he ended up scolding himself or worse for even considering such a thing. She was now genuinely afraid for him. Would he really kill himself if he started trying to truly plan?
She understood fleeting angered thoughts, very few people that she’d ever counseled or met were free from such a mental burden.
During one of their sessions, Erik had admitted to having violent, gory, murderous thoughts several times a day sometimes. But he had never truly acted on any of the impulses that flooded his mind; only in self-defense or combat. She shuddered… Zayana was a different story – reveling in them – which was maybe why she and Austin in the other world had… connected.
He came to her from behind and snaked an arm around the front of her, pulling her against him. “I’m not interested in Reyna,” he whispered. This was basically the name he’d remember her by. She’d told him to call her that in Italy. “Not even a little after Italy.”
Marielle nodded, and turned to his refrigerator, opening the door, and bending to look in. “Marielle, what do our lives look like after tonight?”
“I told you, Austin. We get to the end of the year and we say goodbye. Forever.”
His chest physically hurt, and she put her hand over her own heart with a small startle. “Why forever?”
“Because this is dangerous. Like you said, the next eight weeks are going to be nearly impossible.”
“I won’t be able to control every thought that I have, and you’ll hear some of them.”
“Same,” she replied popping up with a basket full of strawberries in her hands. “It’ll be impossible.”
His knees went weak, “Marielle,” he groaned.
“I’m sorry, there was no better time for this,” she said with a sigh. “Vincent-”
He cut her off, “Oh, screw Vincent!”
-I do… She shook her head. She hadn’t wanted to just reply that way even in thoughts, but it was what came out. “I’m sorry.” They both paused feeling the chasm opening between the two of them. Austin leaned back against the counter in front of the sink and crossed his arms. “There never would have been a good time to do this,” she finished her thought.
“You are a part of me, now. What makes you think that there will ever be any way for me to get through the rest of my life, let alone the next two months, without you?”
“I’m sorry,” was all that she said.
“Is that it? You’re just sorry? And that’s that?”
“It has to be.” She urged him aside so that she could wash the strawberries. “You told me that I could have anything that I wanted tonight, yes?” She asked.
He came to her side, “Anything,” he repeated, desperate for her to say that she wanted him.
“Then I want this- stop fighting me? Stop requesting more explanations. Stop pushing me. Stop desiring to lock me in a prison so you can keep me. Dammit, Austin, I’m already in that prison!” She wailed.
He put his arms around her, and held her close. “So am I…” he breathed. “So am I. And you will have what you requested,” he conceded. “I’ll stop.” He ached with these words. Standing behind her, he lifted his hands and ran them down her arms and to her hands where they were washing the berries under warm water. He squeezed her hands in his and let go, running them back up the length of her arms but stopping at her right wrist where his name had now completely vanished. -Let’s pretend that I just came in, and start again.
“Hey,” she growled, playfully.
He smiled brokenly, burying his nose in her hair. “I just want to know what you’re making me,” he purred into her ear, looking over the ingredients sitting on the counter.
“I want it to be a surprise, get out,” she chuckled.
He became serious, then, “Marielle,” he began. His tongue flicked out, licking his dry, hungry lips. “There are only so many hours in the day… and I’m running out of time,” he whispered into her right ear, his gaze flicking to the clock, – ten o’clock, eight hours left – then back. “Don’t tell me that I can’t have this time with you, even if it’s only to watch. Let me watch you… let me be with you.”
She couldn’t say no to that. Sighing, putting the strawberries aside, and resting her head back against his chest, she conceded. “Okay, Austin,” she whispered, and with that, she pushed back away from him, and whirled around, hands still on the counter. “Watch everything.” He cocked his head at her questioningly.
Then she started to dance to some sensual beat that only existed in her head.
He bit his lip, realizing. He’d asked her to dance for him someday. Right.
She playfully pushed him down into the chair sitting at one end of the kitchen. He complied with a giant, embarrassed grin, and caged his reddening face for a moment as she moved and swayed around the kitchen. How funny; he’d seen women dance; he’d seen women dance naked for him…this was different. The onslaught of childish delight that came over him exploded in his chest and mind and it was almost too much.
She only danced for a minute before she came over his knees, straddling them, and sitting against his chest; her arms around his neck, her nose brushing against his. She kissed him, and smiled before doing so again, putting all of herself into that kiss.
-My red queen.
-My ice king.
He was gently urging her closer. -You are never close enough.
She pressed into him and his head fell back against the chair as he felt their skin starting to meld together. Like water pouring into more water, she became one thing with him and he closed his eyes and held her, gently rubbing her back. –Do you want to be in there?
-Forever.
-I want you in there forever, Marielle. But I think what you don’t understand… is that you will be.
She eventually pulled their chests apart and he lifted his head and breathed as if he was coming up for air. She smiled at him and caressed his face, leaning in and kissing him again. “Let me finish,” she whispered.
She got off him and quickly melted the chocolate, and found graham crackers, which she broke into quarters, pretzel sticks, which she broke in half, and large marshmallows. She also found the remainder of that butterscotch syrup and after arranging it all on a big plate, she urged him into the living room with her where they both sat, dipped, and ate, mostly in companionable silence. They smiled at one another several times and fed each other, kissed, and did it again. She put a little chocolate on his lips, leaned in and kissed it off and his mind was full of memories from Italy, just as she wanted.
He put on some soft music after they cleaned the mess up, and the two went into one another’s arms like they would dance. But they were barely moving, it was a gentle sway. Austin sniffed, and looked at the clock… Midnight. He closed his eyes, every tear falling silently. She pulled back to gaze into his blue eyes, “Why are you crying?”
He forced a smile. “I’m so happy,” he said, and he was… and he wasn’t…
Her own eyes welled and tears came. She tried to smile through them, but it failed drastically. “… False,” she croaked.
He pulled her against him and rocked her and they both sobbed, silently.
He pressed his forehead against hers, “How can I say goodbye to you?” he sobbed, it came out hoarse.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she whispered, gently combing his hair.
“Yeah, but we won’t be this… we’ll never be this again, will we?” He asked, biting back another wave of tears.
She cradled him against her, hushing him like the little boy that he was. “It’s okay,” she breathed. “It’s okay.”
“I am… so in love with you, Marielle,” he heaved through the wet, and the blubber, “and it’s breaking me.” He gently kissed her neck. “Masin,” he breathed, daringly. Her heart sped up, “best friend,” he whispered, kissing her again just below the chin. “Love,” he kissed her cheek. “Partner,” her heart hurt. He put his lips to her temple, near her right ear. He couldn’t say the next one, too hard. This time however, his mind said it. -Wife. She heard it anyways, and broke; the oceans opening for both. “I’m so in love with you… I’m so in love with you.”
“I’m in love with you too, Austin.”
To break the dread of the hour, and the crying that they were both sinking into, she smiled at him in a way that said, “chase me” and ran to his bedroom. He followed and they laughed as he cornered her, threw her over his shoulder as she kicked and squealed, and tossed her gently onto the bed, coming over her and giving her all of himself in a kiss that seemed to stop time, but just for a moment.
She looked at him longingly, then got up and went to the restroom to change.
And when she came out of the bathroom in her long t-shirt and lifted her hands, he smiled at her and lay back on the bed, his arm stretched back over his head, urging her to him. She came to him and fit herself under his arm, and he stared at the ceiling. Twenty-four hours… It had been thirty-six, but he’d wished it would melt into about four hundred thousand hours.
–Marielle, this could be forever.
Her eyes welled again. –We had a deal, Austin.
-But you want this…
-We both do.
-Then why…?
-You know why. Please just enjoy this.
-I’ve enjoyed every moment that I’ve had with you today, and I’ll keep it forever.
She touched his chest, finding his heartbeat, and smiled softly. –So will I.
She rolled over onto her side, and settled. He turned, to hold her. “No sex tonight,” she teased.
“Nah,” he chuckled. “I don’t need it.” He took in a ragged breath, trying to force the joke just on the tip of his tongue, but it came out strained. “Maybe tomorrow.” They both chuckled silently through their tears, and Marielle let out a long jerky sigh.
He gently pushed the hair back from her face and combed through it, committing every sight, sensation, and feeling to memory. He took in how soft the strands of hair were that he was pinching between his fingers, and how each one fell as he let it go. He breathed in her scent, like strong musk, and perfume from earlier… roses. She wanted him, he could tell… and he’d definitely remember that, later. He could see the side of her face; the valley that her cheekbone made as it dipped down to her full, red lips, and her black eyelashes as they blinked out the tears that wetted them at the corners. He traced a line down her temple, to her cheekbone and to her full, lightly parted lips, where he brushed over their smoothness, and shape; almost like a perfect heart– his.
He ran his middle fingertip over them two or three times, tracing the shape before he gently stroked the wet part between them, and felt the gentle brush of the tip of her warm tongue. He sighed in pleasure; a low, gravelly sound before taking it away. He couldn’t do anymore, or he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
Unexpectedly, she bit at his finger a little, as if urging him to stay. He was frozen; holding his breath. She parted her lips and tenderly pulled his finger into her mouth. He took in a deep, sudden breath that had a sound behind it.
He remained still for a few moments as she gently tugged at and sucked. It was so warm and comfortable in her mouth that he found himself wanting to stay there, forever. Her tongue brushed over his fingerprint one way, then back.
This… without question was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced, and he’d experienced a myriad of erotic things in his life. There was almost nothing that he hadn’t done. Except perhaps… sing while making love, and he’d promised that to her, if they ever got there.
The sensation lingered causing the hairs on his body to stand up in all places, as his pulse raced and his heart thudded loud enough to be heard. His breath hitched and wouldn’t steady, and as she slowly pulled him from between her lips, signaling that she was done, he knew that he’d never sing to her while they made love. He’d never be hers again. He knew it, of course, but this physical separation reminded him of this fact. And again, tears fell and his heart shattered.
He was fully aware of how many times his heart had shattered in the last thirty-six hours… fifty, maybe a hundred, and each one hurt more than the one before it. He was pretty sure that another few and he’d actually die, and what was strange was that in it, he found a peace- he was okay if it did happen. If he died, he’d die unlike the way she’d said. You’re going to die alone.
No… I’ll die with the only person who has maybe ever loved me, and again this shattered his heart.
Recall would work for him now; he knew that for sure.
She was still, and this made him anxious. “Going to sleep, my love?” He asked, quietly.
She nodded, but knew that she was going to lay there and weep silently for a long time. He knew it too, because he was going to do the same, but he’d hold her until she really fell asleep. “Okay,” he whispered, gently and he settled against her, trying to remember how to breathe. He wouldn’t try to force her to stay awake tonight. He wouldn’t try to keep her. “I’m in love with you, Marielle.”
A pregnant pause. “I love you too, Austin.”
For the last time today, his heart shattered; a block of ice hitting the ground, dropped from the top of the empire state building. I love you too, Austin… that was all that he ever wanted. “I’m grateful,” he breathed. And for maybe the first time in his life, he was. He pulled her as close as he could, “maybe if I dream hard enough the day won’t end,” he said, absently. “Maybe we’ll just lay like this forever.” Marielle’s quiet sobs shook her. “You think?”
She rolled over, facing him. Both were a mess as they held one another’s cheeks. “I love you,” she cried, brokenly. Then she shook her head as if disagreeing with herself, “Ti adoro così tanto,” she breathed. “Love isn’t a strong enough word.”
He smiled wanly. “I adore you, too,” he replied, cradling her against his chest. “If it’s the last thing that you hear before you drift off tonight, I want you to know it- I love you more than anything.” Then she was gone… breathing deeply, and he was awake, holding her body. “Rest well, darling,” he whispered, brokenly as he gently kissed the top of her head and night claimed them both.
Like a ghost, the next thing that Marielle heard was Austin’s voice hovering over her left ear. Please don’t wake me, please don’t wake me, I want to stay… she was thinking to herself as she heard him sniffle. “Goodbye…” A soft, drenched kiss on her cheek, and the sound of faint cries. “I’ll see you at work, okay?”
When she opened her eyes, he was gone.
Just like that, day over.
Her cheek was still wet from his tears. She felt them there, wishing that she could quickly go find a little glass vial and keep them. They’d fade. They were already merely moisture.
At this thought, she crumbled, and flattened herself against his bed. He was gone. This was the emptiest bed she’d ever felt in her life, and he wasn’t coming back. She sobbed, part of her wishing that she could impart some part of her through her tears that would soak clean through the mattress and stay with him forever.
Suddenly, she wanted to call in sick, and lay in his bed until he got home. Yes, yes, that’s what she’d do.
But… She turned and her heart broke into small pieces again; he’d left the contract on his side of the bed. Shakily, she picked it up and read it over. A reminder. They were done.
She’d have to lock all of this up and away in her heart. Vincent could never know.
She showered…in his shower, wishing that he were there, holding her. I just want you to hold me, Austin. I just want to be standing here, in this hot water, being in your arms so I can cry into you. No one else would understand. I just want to cry into you… because you’re gone.