"Don't walk away from me!"

The way his voice trembled and his lips quivered fought against his portrayal of harsh and unsympathetic emotions. The woman near the door turned and the lines on her forehead deepened; her face was taut with resignation and the bags under her eyes seemed to darken with the weight of the pain. A similar expression had taken form on the man's face. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair and clothes disheveled and the frown tugging at the corners of his face had become more apparent as his piercing blue eyes tore into her soul. 

She shook her head and a visible tremor wrecked the man's rugged build. The irony displayed was almost incredible. The man was defined; his body screamed with strength and an insatiable hunger for the payment of hard work. Yet here he was, shoulders hunching; knees buckling. 

He fell to the floor. 

The palpable tension in him evaporated off the surface of his skin; he had given up. His blood sang in unflinching terror, harmonising with the blows of fear in his mind. The soft breeze captured the tears pooling in the rims of his eyes and blew thick chunks of his honey brown locks down onto the deepening lines on his forehead, shrouding them. His hollow cheekbones had morphed into a furious scream of pink, burning to the touch and exclaiming pangs of heartache. The skin on him was rough and the bones beneath could slash through metal.

His eyes were the most delicately sculpted artwork. 

His beautiful, misery specked, glistening eyes could soothe any wandering heart and lost soul. They glimmered with raw emotion and unguided misery, reflecting how his unyielding fears were seeping into his bones.

"Don't do this again," he whispered. His head was still bowed and the muscles in his back tightened with every word he struggled to get out. His sweet, velvety voice, often compared to the gentle spur of bubbling champagne was now abraded by the spear of pain that sounded like the grazing of sandpaper.

He was the embodiment of everything that could not be explained. The unnaturally unique curl of his lip carrying the weight of his toothy smile could not be forgotten. The way his entire body wrapped around hers, untangling every muddled thought in her conscious second by second could not be replaced. The delicate, reserved touches and sweet whispers he planted in her mind could not be restored if she walked out the mahogany border. 

His breathing was coming out irregular and heavy. "I love you!" he pleaded. The muscles in his face tightened with consistent effort. Her gaze lingered on him, trying to captivate his very essence before the writhing feeling in her stomach returned to remind her that this was the last time she would be able to look into his burning blue glaciers trapped under heavy eyelids.

"Get over it." Her tone was drenched in unrelenting disgust and she enunciated every word through gritted teeth in a precise and clipped tone. A look of utmost revulsion encompassed her fragile build. Her hand quivered, inching toward him but her coppery eyes lit up to prove a different story.

His chest rose and fell with every precious grapple of air; the silent prayers tumbling out of his mouth were coated in thick stitches of desperation. “Please,” he whispered as his lips quivered. He was anything but soft; his fingertips were calloused and the edges of his limbs had been submerged into pits of imploding anguish, and right now, right now, even the delicate air was crushing him.

Tears pricked the back of her throat and when he precariously clutched her hand she released all the misery, all the hurt, all the pent-up rage through those tears. Limbs moving robotically, she heedlessly thrashed against him as he tried to pull her toward him. Her shoulders sagged downwards and her posture crumpled as she gave in, frustration and exhaustion eclipsing her round face, allowing him to hold her in the circle of his arms.

 He reached to cup her face and the centre of his thumb gently rested on the dry and parched skin where her tears had dried. Her caramel complexion had been streaked with unguided tear splatters and the freckles forming sprinkles of vast, consuming constellations on the edges of her angular cheekbones had been slit through by a smear of mascara stain.

There was familiarity and comfort in his embrace. There was the soft hum of home in his touches. There was a bold reassurance every time his rugged fingertips glided benignly across the disfigured skin that dwelled at her arms. 

Vexation spiked from her scalp to her core.  Sitting this close to him, she could feel the tangle of thorns encasing her ribcage and giving way to justify and encourage the thought of letting her body remain in his firm grasp, to let his voice transport her into a field of possibilities. 

Bewilderment rippled through her, manipulating her actions. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He froze.

She increased their proximity, bringing her hands to grip the hair behind his head. She could sense the anticipation thrumming in his veins, feel the soft thump of his pulse and smell the minty fragrance of gum on him. Her body shuddered, desperate in the want of him.

His hands were still trembling, trying to seek hers. The scamper of restlessness groped him when her eyes once again flicked hopefully up to his. He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her as though she was a porcelain doll, able to break with a soft tug. Their eyes locked and the breath in their lungs flew out, patience following the pursuit. Her brindle eyes flickered between his lips and his eyes, drawing him toward her. With every second that ticked on, the tension in the air seemed to thicken, becoming almost tangible.

Before either of them could regret it, their lips had finally met. 

The delicate pace increased into a feverish desire as her determined lips found a partition in his quivering rosy ones. A crackle of passion sloshed in her stomach, threatening to spill. Goosebumps rose to the surface of his skin as he became increasingly aware of how the soft trail of her hands drifted along the veins in his arms. Her bones felt light. There was no consistent rhythm of ache tethering her to reality. His tongue traced her lip and she swallowed back a gasp at the rush of excitement in her nerves. She let herself ravel in him, in his distinctive scent, his hankering rush of hunger, how her hands seemed to have a mind of their own when they shadowed the loose and frayed fabric of his shirt. 

There was solitude in the air as their lips clashed and the pain drifted. Hunger and desperation mingled together and as their hands met, their bodies seemed inseparable, entwined.

Abruptly, her body convulsed and she jerked away from him, colliding with the glass loitering the floor. The now fractured shards scattered the floor of the room, scintillating under the golden rays cast down from the fissured, dust-blemished window. Through the cracks, the tender, warm winds kissed the floor as they gently swept the glass fragments across the grimy texture of the grainy boards.

His blue orbs danced with a soft twinkle under the dazzling hues of the sun's rays splintering through the window. The frown on his face had left. The darkened lines on his forehead had left. The frenzy of tormenting emotions had left.

She had left.