It was like the first time all over again. She was quiet, alone with her music, not even realising that she was humming as she walked by. He knew exactly where she would go, how she made her rounds. He followed her.
Halfway through, she stopped. She turned. She smiled.
The sky could have fallen down but he wouldn't have cared in the least. Just like the first time.
"Walk with me?", an invitation that he couldn't resist. His hand itched to catch hers and hold it in his. Her soft, delicate hand. Hands which used to know him so well.
"I need to talk to you", the words were out of his mouth before he had even thought it through. What was he going to say?
" What about?", she removed her earphones and glanced at him. The walking hadn't stopped. They had reached where it all began. Where she had been crying alone, trying to rid herself of her demons and he had come like a king to the aid of a queen. He stopped. "Shall we sit?"
She eyed him warily. He expected a no. He knew it was going to be a no; even though she had never said no to anything from him except that last time. She had looked so beautiful, so lost. So hurt. Yet she had smiled. She always smiled. Even now, she was having that smile as she sat. "So talk. I'm listening."
She never truly listened to him the last few months. She was too caught up in her own world. She was trying to solve her own problems and had just let him fall to the side. She had her life and she was busy with it. She would find others. Smarter, stronger, better. But he had stood through it all next to her, would they? They might. He cut off that line of thought.
Really just looking at her confused him and at the same time, cleared his head.
"I want us back", he swallowed and bit his lip. She tilted her head to a side and watched him. "I think it would be better... I miss you." This was the hardest thing he had ever said.
"Why?"
Yes, a question he expected. She was always so full of questions. Even when he had first held her hand. She had asked him why he was holding her hand. That time, he had enjoyed it. The relentless series of questions.
"Because I think it would be better for us both. You are alone now... A lot. You're sad. I've noticed."
She smiled fully, reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I missed you. I have been alone and I have been sad. But it was worse for me in a relationship where I was isolated. And please... Stop telling me about what you see of me. Tell me about you. Tell me why you want me to risk my heart again. I loved you too much then and I still love you now."
"Stop. Listen."
"To what?"
"I do love you. I love you very much."
"How do I believe this when it comes from the boy who told me that he will not fall in love? This boy. Not the man I fell in love with."
"I...", he ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the ground. Tears were filling his eyes. So many feelings. For her, everything could be caught in words. A talent he lacked and suffered for. So many expressions that couldn't be conveyed with mere words.
"You?"
"I'm sorry. I can't guarantee a future. But let's try again."
"This is the third time love."
He looked up. She was crouched just in front of him. She was showing him her hand...her finger...a glint of gold? A ring.
Not the ring he gave her.
Not even remotely close.
"Give me a reason and something to hold on to. Then I might be able to consider breaking this commitment off. Because I love you. But I will not risk my heart again for empty words and broken promises. Not again."
What could he say now? She was gone. The ground was blurring.
"I haven't gone. I'm willing to risk it all love. But only for one who would do the same for me."
He caught her hand. They were outside her apartment. He didn't know what other way to express it. He cupped her small face in his hand. He kissed her.
Anguish. Repentance. Self-loathing. Darkness. Hatred. Loss. Betrayal. It flowed through him into her as though it was a dark vein flailing about wildly trying to connect to her heart.
For one second, there was a response from her. Forgiveness and pity. She pushed him off, wiped her face. She opened the door leaving him stricken behind her. She locked the door.
She smiled. She pulled the key over her wrist as she grabbed on to one mental bar out of five of the door. Small but deep enough. The cut bled.
He caught her bleeding wrist. He grabbed her keys. His shock and anger were written all over his face.
"Why?!", he demanded with thinly veiled anger.
"Because looking at you is too painful. I should forget. Cutting helps."
"No."
He hadn't forgotten her unstable sensitivity under the rock hard exterior.
"I should."
"No... Stay."
"I'm going to sleep."
"Let me come with you. I'll give you first aid."
"No."
He opened the door with the keys in his hand, caught her under her arm and led her to her bed.
She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
When she woke up, the bed was slept in and there was a note: Gone to get breakfast.
She sighed. Once bitten, twice shy, so what was the third time? A fool again? She thought back to the last time, a small poem of Faudet in her head playing a recap -
I could taste
The sting of whisky
On your lips,
A final kiss,
Before we said
Our last goodbye,
Without a word
Being said.
The sting of whisky had also been his proposal.
