AN: I do not own these characters. This story is set somewhere in the future; no spoilers. Character Death! Reviews are appreciated.


Hurt

-o~0~o-

We wanted only love, to love one another

but among so many griefs it was fated

that only we two would be so hurt.

Pablo Neruda - Sonnet LXII

-o~0~o-

Memories sting your skin like invisible burn marks, forever reminding you of the touches that once set your skin on fire but are just painful torture now. You can still feel those fingertips skim over your skin, scorching and demanding and leaving behind ghostly trails of something you wish you could have again.

You live in a web of fantasies. An endless dream that seems impossible to shrug off. Not that you want that. You cannot lose this dream, but it is slowly slipping away from you anyway, like time does as it runs through your fingers. So you stay strong, just to try to hold on to it, to not completely drown in the well of emotions that are slowly making the dream fade. Killing you, but for now are also the only things that make you feel even remotely aware of the world around you.

You sit in your bay window. Staring out in the darkness that reminds you so much of his hair. You think about the first time that you allowed yourself to run your hands through those soft tresses, pulling his head closer, pressing your soft lips against his, making you forget everything else. You are back in that moment. Trembling hands, meaningless whispers, battling tongues, slick heat, feeling so complete when he sinks into you, wraps your legs around his waist, makes you tremble with passion. The night mocks you.

Another day begins. You open your window, hoping against hope that the first rays of sun will warm your tired body. That the golden glow of dawn can comfort your soul, make it numb, erase that washed-out feeling. A soft breeze blows in and makes your bare arms tremble while the purple glow outside slowly turns into the blue that entrances you with how familiar it is. And you feel like you are falling again, losing yourself, remembering the last time you saw that same color. The blue of his eyes.

"Let me do this, Elena. Let me be your goddamn hero for once!"

And you will never forget the determination in his eyes as his knees buckle, that expression that shatters your heart. And it is that memory that destroys you over and over again. It is etched on your very soul. The moment his heart got pierced. The look that shows you so painfully and so clearly that he needs you. He dies for you. He loves you so.

And you love him.

You close the window, close the blinds. Shut out the world for a little while longer. Your friends. Family. None of them understand why you take his death so hard, or perhaps they understand a little too well. They are there for you. You pretend to be okay for them. Your mortal life will end one day. You will see that arrogant smirk again. But for now you just go on. You finally realise what he meant when he said he was living, but was never truly alive anymore.

It is ironic.

It must be fate.

It hurts.