Leo P.O.V
When you left that day, with me screaming and crying for you to stay, the last parts of my half broken heart shattered into shards that pierced through my chest. But that pain was nothing compared to the sight of you turning your back on our love. But, you did not scream, nor did you protest or retaliate, you left in silence, choking back tears. I broke plates, smashed vases and threw wedding pictures at you, demanding an answer. I got no such things from that thin line of a mouth on your face. But you, you and your inability to fight back, took off your ring and left it for me on the counter. It burned to see it, just another thing to cut into me.
I should have seen it coming and so I tell myself most days. His cheeks faded from his beautiful healthy colour to a pale, like every moment with me just dragged him down more and more. His kisses grew colder, only out of custom never that raw, red passion I had once felt. The kiss off to work or the kiss before bed and that was all. If I had but known of the sorrow to come, I would have done what he does, locked away all my emotions and raw feeling so that my heart may not be broken again. But I kept feeling and hoping so that we may have rekindled that fire that burned within us once. And yet, that fire that I begged for would only destroy us more.
It's so cold here without you. The silence that now echoes through the halls puts a chill in my bones. There had always been life here, always so busy. Now, just my empty thoughts and I try to fill the impossibly big space. And your ring is still on the counter, like a reminder to me that you are indeed, gone. I should have noticed the cold and how it crept into your heart. If I had been with you more, would that ice have melted and would my flame have burned on? I should have stayed to hold your hand and caress your hair at night when the darkness came but…What excuse do I have to offer you? I have but none.
Now our vows are broken and neither of us have died. Til death do we part they say, but does that mean I am but a corpse now? My heart is still breathing. My lungs still working. My hot blood still rushing through my veins. I am not dead. Yet, he treated me as such and for that, I could never forgive him. I heard his name for the first time in a while. Such a simple thing but made me feel sick. 'Nico' they said. But not my Nico. I felt alive when I had heard it, like a dog pricking their ears up to the sound of their own name. I thought he was there, so I could scream and shout one last time. But, he wasn't. And I was left with a fast beating heart and a sense of sorrow. I missed his name and his eyes and the way he woke in the morning. I missed his little mannerisms like his heavy tread and where he left his socks and everything that made Nico, Nico.
In all the years we had been together, we were always Nico and Leo. Our friends had known you first and it seemed fitting. You had more memories with them and I was but a dot in your eternal timeline of events where you had cried and laughed. Without the other, we are simply Leo or Nico. Some of them still say your name before mine, it comes as a rush to my ears and they apologise for their mistake. I accept it, not wanting to make then uncomfortable but I feel a shudder creep up my spine. Am I scared of you now? I may be, scared of the way you left. They say I was scared of commitment and yet wished to ink my skin with mindless quotes and names, I told them that my skin does not peel itself away and leave after years of love and laughter. They are silent after that.
In my lonely hours, I often thought of you. I wondered how you could have meant so much to me, so much that you could break me by turning away. It was strange to most, how you could have left like that. But they didn't know you. I knew you. I knew you for 7 years and in that time, I had studied you like a text. I knew every corner, every curve and every moment that made Nico. I knew you too well. I knew about that part of you that was cold and unloving and your weaknesses. You could never read me like I could read you. Long will I rue you. Long will I be jealous that you could not read me and find that part of me that I kept shielded from the world. A hate that will run too deep to tell.
You called me yesterday. You asked if we could talk and it all came back to me. All the pain and the heartbreak and I said yes. When you left, I grieved for my loss. I wanted you back but my arrogant pride stopped me. I wanted to win, to show to you how strong I could be without you. But I wasn't. My arms so limp. My legs so weak. My heart never beating as strong as before. I often wished for my heart to forget you. I wished for my soul to be free but it was chained to the memory of you.
I wondered what would happen if we happened to meet in many years' time. When we were older and wiser about the things we had done to each other. How would I greet you? Like an old friend? Where I would offer a handshake with a hearty laugh. Or like an enemy? Where I would give you scorned looks and a sly smile would touch at my lips. Or perhaps, a stranger? Where I would be confused as to who you are for I had forgotten you long ago. No. I would greet you how you last saw me. I would scream and cry for you to stay. But you were already gone. And your ring was still on the counter at home. And mine was still on my finger as I turned it, waiting at the door for you to come home like you always did.