"My dear
We're slow dancing in a burning room."
-John Mayer
"I need to get away." She said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
His head snapped up from his desk. "From what?" he asked.
"This. All of this." She waved her arm around the room.
"Don't go." He whispered to her.
She sighed. "It's not your fault." She turned her head away from him.
"Look at me."
She looked up at him and cupped his cheek in her hand. "You have to understand." She pleaded. "It's not you. It's me."
He laughed. "That's a cliché that's been repeated one too many times."
She smiled. "I love you, I do but face it. We've been falling apart for months." A tear slipped down her cheek.
He knew how much she hated to cry and it broke his heart to know that he caused it. "We can work it out. I'll try harder." He pleaded.
"I'll always be here for you." She whispered. "Anytime you need me, I'll be here. But we can't be together. You're not as subtle as you think."
He took a step back. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked her.
She let out a snort. "Please. Every time we kiss or sleep together I can tell that you're thinking of her."
He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry." He whispered.
She took a step towards him and lifted herself up onto her toes. "I love you Lucas Scott." She whispered into his ear.
He pulled her close, breathing in her scent one last time. "I love you too Peyton Sawyer."
And then she was gone.