It's a big girl world now
Full of big girl things
And everyday I wish I was small
She stands at the edge of the water, her hair lifting off her shoulders delicately as she closes her eyes and welcomes the salty breeze, staining her face like the tears she never cries. Looking out to sea, she sinks – her worries temporarily washing away in the water that ebbs and swirls at her feet.
I've been counting on nothing
But he keeps giving me his word
And I'm tired of hearing myself speak
Every morning, she runs. She rises before the dawn, before anyone can see, and runs along the beach, kicking up sea spray behind her. Running calms her down and clears her senses, a naturalistic reaction in an unnatural situation. The attachments she's unwillingly made on the island keep her from running too far, holding her back as though they had cast a spell on her, enchanting her. It's the only explanation she cares to give herself for why she cannot escape the complications of life on the island. Running is embedded in her, yet she keeps coming back – to the beach, to the other survivors, to him. Always him. Promises of starting over fresh ring in her head as her silhouette is outlined against the rising dawn, painting the sky shades of a red and orange heartbeat, full and alive as the waves crash against the shore.
Do you get weary? Do you ever get weak?
How do you dream when you can't fall asleep?
Staring up at the stars, they reflect in her eyes like little shards of glass dancing across a canopy of green. She's never been much of a sleeper – necessity required her alert attention at all times. But on the island, she appreciates the time that she can lay on the beach and watch the stars, sometimes wishing on a few. Her body was still tensed – that never seemed to go away – but at least she could rest for a while, the sand uneven against her back, as she dug her toes into the sand and thought about herself in another life.
I've been wondering what you're thinking
And if you like my dress tonight
Would you still say you love me under this ordinary moonlight?
She watches as he moves around the campfire, his eyes determined and focused on the maladies at hand. Flames dance over his face, casting unearthly shadows upon his body and intensifying his gaze as it catches hers. She backs out first, looking down at her fingers lifting the sand and sifting it through her fingers, trying to hide herself in the chaos surrounding her.
I'm so afraid of what you'll say
She can feel him behind her, his body radiating more light than the fire mere feet in front of her. He clears his throat but she doesn't turn her head – instead, she waits for him to speak, looking over her shoulder at the moonlight dancing off the waves, bathing the shore in an eerie glow. He sits down heavily, dropping his pack next to him as he nestles into the sand, trying to get comfortable as he props his elbows on his knees and looks at her head turned away from him, the light of the fire giving her an ethereal glow that captivates him.
I used to think I was special
And only I have proved me wrong
And all this time I thought that we were friends
She sighs as he clears his throat again, and she forces herself to turn her head and face him, her eyes closed as she contemplates what she should say. He hadn't said a word to her since she was thrown out into the night with the muzzle of a cold gun pressing against her throat, her eyes pleading with his. She had apologized, hoping to convey the true sorrow she was feeling, but he had simply brushed her off and ignored her since. The searing pain and regret over the situation has only deepened her urge to run – to get away from the heartache she had promised to never experience again, especially not with someone she had let consume her almost entirely. Opening her eyes, she is startled to see his filled with genuine sadness, an emotion rarely seen from him, so hard and tough for everyone to see. "Kate… I'm sorry," he whispers, so quietly that it is almost like he is breathing it out, letting a part of himself go. He reaches up and cups her cheek, rubbing his thumb across it as his eyes begin to fill with tears.
My stubborn will is learning to bend
Watching this revelation coming from him, his emotions bared so openly that it hurts, she feels her walls slowly crumbling. She hates that he has this power over her, but she knows why – she stitched a little bit of herself inside him that day, and there she remains, under slightly raised scars, pink and fleshy to the touch.
I'd like to know if you'd be open to starting over from scratch
She reaches up and places her hand over his on her cheek, staring into his eyes with a look that he has never seen before. Her face looks so vulnerable, so raw – her carefully crafted mask has begun to crack and decay under his gentle touch.
I'd like to know if you'd be open to giving me a second chance
Curling her fingers around his, she pulls their hands down from her face and places them in her lap, enveloping his in both of hers. Looking down at them, her eyes begin to cloud and tear, resembling a deep, calm sea at the height of the day. He looks down as well, and before he knows it, her lips are on his, soft and sweet. The kiss is neither rushed and hungry, like their kiss in the jungle, nor passionate and sweaty, as they have both dreamed about. It is slow, sensual kiss – his lips gliding over hers as they close their eyes and the tears that run down both of their cheeks mix and trail down as one. The kiss is a promise of things to come and an apology for what was never meant to happen, and the silent promises echo in the still night air around them as they both pull away, resting their foreheads against each other before he softly pulls her towards him, her back fitting against his chest like the final piece of a puzzle.
