Romance Is Dead

Rifiuto: Non Miriena

Summary: She promised to love him forever... and she meant it. What follows is a love story that takes romance to a whole new level... and brings new meaning to the phrase 'until death do us part.' Title WILL change.

"Tell me you love me. Come on, tell me you love me."

He rolled his eyes, but remained silent.

"Come on, Yero, please. I say it to you all the time."

"I know you do."

"Then tell me you love me."

He slumped back in his chair, watching the city below, the phone held loosely against his ear. He sighed.

"I told you this morning, love."

"I know."

"And I told you when we left the apartment this morning."

"I know."

"And I told you when I kissed you goodbye an hour ago."

"I know. But please, Yero!" She whined. He chuckled softly; he could see her, stamping her feet and pouting like a child. Deciding to end her agony, he interjected,

"I love you."

"I love you too." She replied, calm. "You know that, Yero?"

"I know."

"Honey, can I call you back? We're-"

"Sure, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too, Yero."

But he didn't hang up, even when she did. Forty minutes later, when she again picked up, she resumed the conversation, and he let her prattle on, enjoying the sound of her voice.

"Tell your parents that I'm sorry I can't be there, but I've got to get this contract done."

"I will, sweetheart. They'll understand. They wouldn't want you to miss work. Besides, you'll see them when they come up for Lurlinemas."

"I know, I just..."

Something on the television screen in front of him caught his attention, and he leaned forward.

"Yero? Baby, what is it? What's wrong?"

"F... What... what... plane are you on?"

"Yero, sweetheart, you're worrying me."

"What plane are you on, Fae?"

"Um... two four eight three. Why?"

"No reason..." He replied, shaking his head, but never taking his eyes off the screen. Something about faulty engines and the list of flights canceled.

2483 was on the list.

And it had already taken off.

Suddenly, the screen flashed to the reporter issuing the story; she stood in front of the terminal, with the plane in view in the background.

"I love you, Yero."

There, on the screen, was the plane she was on, one minute in the air, and the next crashing on the terminal and bursting into flames.

"FAE!"

I love you, Yero.

As the report flashed across the screen, the last words his wife had spoken to him rang loud and clear in his head, even as his heart plummeted to his knees and he grabbed his coat, on his way to the scene of the accident.

But it was too late.