This is my first. Please review. The implied characters belong to Cassandre Clare. Everything else is mine. Please enjoy.
A glance. A sigh. Soft whispers. Fingers tenderly caressing. Warm, moist breath cascading over expectant flesh.
"Don't stop. Don't go." In hushed tones. The pleas belong to both. Neither wants it to end. Both crave the other's touch, the other's voice, the other's intensity.
"We can't do this. It will only make it harder."
"I know, but I can't stop."
"Me either."
Another sigh. This one more resigned, less hopeful. One pulls away, but both are left breathless, yearning. The unplaced touches ghosting in want. She smooths her blouse the soft silk not the skin she desires. He adjusts his tie, runs his fingers through his hair—not the hair he wishes to run through his fingers or gently, but urgently pull.
They stare at the door leading away from them. It's a door real in that it leads to another place, but walking through it feels like an abomination, a betrayal to the other. Neither wants to be the first, to initiate their indefinite separation.
"When?" Unspoken, but heard like a shout echoing… "When? When? When?"
Neither answer knowing that there is no reply that will satiate. The fear is palpable like heart beat; it reverberates through her chest as well as his. He reaches for the doorknob, the end.
"Wait!" The word passes from her lips, a whispered heart wrenching sob that he feels deep within. It's a weight that anchors his hand back to his side. His eyes meet hers—gold gripping green securely, unable, unwilling to release the other. He braces himself for the onslaught of emotion that inevitably washes over him whenever he looks into her eyes. She feels it too, reluctant to let him experience anything alone. Fingers reach out aching for the other.
"Don't!" What? Feel? Cry? Despair? Ache? Want? Stop? The thoughts invade the confined space pushing the pair closer for one final embrace, one last lingering kiss, offering two desperate prayers for this not to be the way it ends. Eyes close, tears stream down and combine as cheeks press together, and lips devour frantically.
A shuttering breath releases separating the pair. Golden eyes open searching for green knowing that the search is in vain. He reaches for the doorknob again. There are no whispers to stop him, no pleas to delay his hand. Isolation drapes over his shoulders a heavy cape that quashes hope and memory. Trembling hands grip the door pulling it open; the movement carries the last remaining scents of her away from him.
Black stretches forward to grasp him. It surrounds him, covers everything within reach and beyond. His hand grips the curved smooth handle of his cane. He shuffles quietly into the room drenched in sadness. Expectant eyes lock onto him trying to support him as he make his way to his seat.
There are no arms surrounding him providing encouragement or consolation. Only one touch could possibly dissolve the impassible sorrow that has settled deep within his soul. Slowly, he allows one last sigh to escape. Lined, spotted with age hands grip the gleaming wood of the white satin-lined box. His eyes fight the image before him—fiery, red hair now mostly grey splayed across the pillow, a forced look of peace on her wrinkled face.
Time won't heal the anguish squashing his heart. There isn't enough of it left for that. He turns to face the sea of black once more; the visible, drawn faces cannot provide comfort. A yearning rips through him; he aches with the realization that it will never again be fulfilled. As he takes his seat the finality erodes his spirit-the gold of his eyes dims.
She is gone.