(A/N. This is an excerpt from a book I am writing and I thought it would also fit here. I dunno if I wanna keep it as a oneshot or do more with it. You decide. Also if you think this is M instead of T then tell me so I can change it. I will not be offended. J. K Rowling has the privilege of owning these characters. I don't.)
I rolled over, the red sheets sticking to my body, my legs tangled. He stared at the ceiling. He wouldn't talk. He would never talk. Sometimes when we were together he would show a bit of his old self. The self that would make me laugh at the most idiotic of things. His eyes were blank but you could still see the shadows of the laugh lines I had inspired. My own masterpiece. He looked the same really. Except for the eyes. The blank eyes.
I moved my lips to the hand that was lying by his head, palm up on the pillow. I kissed tender flesh and felt lines. Those lines were thought to tell the future. I believe in fortune telling and I wanted him to be my future. While he ran from is past I would be there to remind him of it. That may sound cruel but I would be a masochist to allow him to leave.
I looked up from his hand. The blank eyes were staring at me. The laugh lines were visible but they did not move the way they used to. They didn't move at all. At least, I never saw them move.
I moved up to kiss him because I knew he wouldn't or couldn't move. His softly shaking fingers moved to my face. They were shaking like a virgin's. But he wasn't a virgin. I had taken that from him.
My hands gripped his hair violently as I moved to pull him on top of me. He may not have been thinking about what we were doing but his body was certainly reacting. As much as mine was.
He didn't do anything usually. He would normally hold himself up while he followed my rhythm. I suppose this was one of the few dances where the woman led and the man followed.
I don't think he even saw me underneath him. If he saw any one it was a dead woman. A woman he had lost and could not get over. My heart ached but, sometimes, I managed to convince myself that this was good for him. That if I could just make him love me or lust after me then it would work.
It hadn't yet.