3rd person p.o.v.

She didn't go to work today. She just sat in the local café continuously sipping on a steaming latte enjoying the calm, relaxing music. She tried to relax too, but she was so stressed and tense it nearly hurt. The scene kept running through her head, the horrible fight they battled last night. In their entire relationship they had never fought so hard. Of course they weren't a perfect couple, nobody really was, but they were happy and that's all that mattered. But after that, she wasn't so sure they could go back. All the violent words, cutting through their souls like a knife, all the empty threats left hanging in the air, their legitimacy being questioned, all the painfully strong emotions ripping at their hearts and biting at their nerves. Surely it could never go back to normal. Not after that.

He didn't go to work that day. He just stayed in the local park, walking around the trails and through the fields. He attempted to contract the mellow atmosphere of the birds chirping, a small creek bubbling in the distance. He couldn't. Last night's scenario was stuck on replay in the forefront of his mind. Every harsh word, flung back and forth like rocks, every lie-coated, anger-filled insult meant for one-upping the other stabbing through them like knives clung to his memory, clogging it until it was the only thing that processed. They had never fought like this, not nearly this bad. He just wanted things to go back to normal, like last night never happened. He wished with all his heart he could just rewind and delete. But life just isn't that easy. He knew things couldn't go back to normal. Not now. Not ever.

By noon, she couldn't take it. She couldn't handle the thought that he hated her now. That's what he had said. He obviously didn't love her anymore, not after that, but how. How can you just fall out of love. She still loved him, so much it hurt.

She rushed home, desperately trying to hold in the tears. She reached the front door and stumbled with the keys in the lock because her eyes were so blurry, she couldn't see much. As she feebly shoved open the door she didn't have the energy to make it any further so she collapsed against the door and sobbed for what seemed like days. Checking her watch, she realized it had been over two hours; it was nearly 2:20 in the afternoon. It wasn't any better. If he didn't love her, she decided, she couldn't be near him. Mustering up all the energy she could manage, she climbed the stairs, gripping tightly to the railing in hope keeping somewhat stable. She had to do this.

Once in the bedroom, she dug through the closet and pulled out the biggest suitcase she owned, and it was pretty big. She crammed as many clothes as she could along with her few valued possessions. Anything that didn't fit would just have to stay here. After stuffing both the suitcase AND a carry-on to the point of them bursting becoming a possibility, she lugged them down the stairs and by the door. She went to the computer and bought the cheapest tickets to as far away as possible without requiring a passport. She printed out the tickets, not even bothering to exit out of the internet, grabbed a large wad of cash, and called a cab. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she looked back at probably the last time she would see that house. She was gone.

His heart ached. It hurt how much he loved her, even after all that went down last night. He reigned in the tears threatening to stream down his face. Men don't cry. He checked his watch 2:17PM. He'd been here for awhile. He decided to head home, she was at work anyway, and he needed time to sort this out. He never even got to apologize this morning; she was gone before he woke up. He never got to tell her he loved her. He stopped on the way home for flowers, nine vibrant red roses. Nine was her favorite number. As he parked the car, he hadn't failed to notice her car was home too. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard, 2:23PM.

He drew in a big gulp of air, slowly releasing it, trying to calm down before confronting her. He finally built up the strength to walk inside.

"Honey!" he called through the house. When no answer replied, a hint of worry bloomed in his mind. He walked back into the kitchen noticing the emptiness. He set down the roses, the house was eerily quiet. He headed into the living room, noticing the screen saver was merrily bouncing around the monitor of the computer. He jiggled the mouse, revealing the plane tickets she had just bought to some faraway town he couldn't even pronounce. He read it over Flight Number 251, Terminal 9, Row 5, Seat 2, set for a departure time of 10:00AM.

Adrenalin shot through his veins and with some sort of inhuman burst of energy, he bounded up the stairs in to leaps, took in the messy bedroom, slid down the railing, grabbed his keys and the roses all in a matter of seconds. He was speeding down the freeway in minutes, a journey that would normally take ten minutes. He had to catch her. She couldn't be gone.

"Please secure your seatbelts," the flight attendant's overly bubbly voice rang through the intercom. How could that lady be so happy and joyful when the young woman sitting in Row 5, Seat 2, couldn't even conceive any positive emotions.

Her heart was being brutally ripped from her chest. The plane began moving and before long, was airborne, soaring away from the one person that held the young woman to this world. With every second ticking by she felt her heart and soul draining slowly, painfully from her body, leaving her an empty shell. That's what she was now. Empty.

He followed her. She didn't know it but he raced to the airport trying to stop her from going. He sped his car down the asphalt as fast as the increasingly hot rubber tires would carry him. He swerved through traffic, somehow managing to escape some sort of horrendous accident as well as any police.

The car was barley even parked before he was sprinting across the jam-packed parking lot of the airport. He tore through the doors, disregarding everyone around him. He had to move. As he ran, his eyes flicked to his wrist to check the time. Damn, time to start wearing a watch. At this point he was completely unaware if he was tardy. Would he make it? Finally, upon reaching the terminals, he discovered the time, 10:03 AM.

He wracked his brain for a moment. Every bit of information concerning her flight poured through his memory. Flight Number 251, Terminal 9, Row 5, Seat 2, set for a departure time of 10:00AM.

No. NO! This was not happening. Not now. His eyes, slowly draining of life, wandered through the huge west-facing wall which consisted of a gargantuan pane of translucent glass. They traced along the tunnel protruding from the door labeled Terminal 9. The flowers he had carried all this way dropped from his limp fingers. He watched as the titanic of a plane disconnected from the terminal and heard the woman's voice announce chirpily, "Flight 251 is now departing," and sank to his knees as the plane took off.

There he was, a grown man, balled up on the floor in the middle of a busy airport. His hands flew up to his head grasping at his silky hair as he choked down the bloodcurdling scream building in his throat. Tears streamed down his face. His heart, his soul was leaving his body. All his life was drained as they were brutally dragged away with the young woman sitting in Row 5, Seat 2 of Flight 251.

Everyone around him carried on as if the world was not falling apart, as if all life and joy had instantaneously ceased to exist. A few spared him the odd sideways glance but as far as most of these civilians cared, he did not exist. In fact he barely existed at all.

With his heart and soul drained from his body, he was an empty shell. That's what he was. Empty.

(A/N: This is just a little one shot I conjured while riding past an airport in a car. It helped me get over my writer's block for my other story in progress. It's sad but if it gets positive feedback, I might turn it into a two shot and give it a happy ending. So please comment and tell me what you think, or if you want it continued! 333)