Closer and closer. Feet hitting the ground. The sweet mists of breath blowing back in his face. Wet brown hair bouncing in a wild dance. Closer and closer. Running towards everything that could be. Closer and closer. Running towards something that could never happen.
A tower looms ahead, rising out of the shrouding mists and the threatening shadows. In the highest window, a crying angel can be seen. Her eyes are dark, her cheeks are wet, running deep with tear-filled ravines. Even from afar, her running prince can hear the muffled sobs.
He pushes himself harder, but he can't seem to reach her. He's on the cusp of reaching that little brown door and the world behind it. He's on the cusp of returning to the light.
The rain bounces off his porcelain skin like diamonds, shattering midair. Rivers find their way through the contours of his black jacket, eventually cascading down to soak his blue jeans. He's a mess and a fine one at that. Suspicious eyes follow his path, stopping to watch the mad man.
The unborn is his, but he is a figment of her imagination. A "once upon a time". Real, but no longer. Nothing but air and memories.
From her fairytale tower, she hears her name. The voice is a whisper, tickling her ears like the winds of a warm day. This voice is home. This voice is something she can never have. He is somewhere, but that somewhere is unreachable. That somewhere is heaven.
Her hands clench tight. Faint turnings in her stomach. An ache pierces her heart. The waterfalls hit her cheeks once more. All she had left is one lover and one loss.
The remaining prince calls to his woman, pulling her into a tight embrace. He's forever ready to comfort. He does not need to understand. He wishes for her love and nothing more. The tears no longer frighten him. They're simply another part of life.
Nevertheless, it's coming. It's coming closer and closer and closer. A remnant of the lost lover.