A/N: Okay, this is my first ever Corpse Bride story. It's a short one-shot because that's what I do best hehe
So..read and enjoy! Feedback very much appreciated.
Victor Van Dort sighed and rolled over to face his silently sleeping wife; her lips were slightly parted and her usually pin-neat hair lay loose over her shoulders, a few tendrils sticking to her face, no doubt due to the ridiculous heat of the heavy bedcovers, which were entwined tightly around Victor's restless body.
He kicked them off impatiently, and gazed at Victoria; she was beautiful. The moonlight shone dimly through the bay window on the other side of the room, illuminating her pale unblemished skin.
He should be feeling overjoyed to be lying here next to her, to have her so close. So why did he not feel any enthusiasm; not one single heart-leap of excitement? Or butterflies in his stomach?
…Butterflies. He felt a terrible twinge of sadness and regretted it almost immediately.
He managed to disentangle himself from the suffocating coverlets and stalked over to the window-seat where he sat in contemplative silence for a while, staring unseeingly at the inky blue-black star-strewn sky.
Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? About her beautiful, passionate face, so full of life despite not one breath escaping her lips nor one heartbeat pulsing blood through her veins. It mattered not…because he loved her. As foolish as it sounded, that was the truth.
In a moment, he was on his feet, hardly daring to think about what he was doing. He stole one quick glance back at his sleeping bride, and trod carefully out of the room.
Next thing he knew, Victor was pounding along the ground, dead leaves and twigs snapping under his feet and cold cruel wind whipping at his hands and face.
He increased his pace, trying to ignore the compression in his chest.
He was at the graveyard, searching frantically for the name he sought more than any other. Sheer desperation seemed to lead him to the spot sooner than he had anticipated.
He knelt down next to the stone, tracing her name with his fingers, the tight feeling in his chest getting worse as tears leaked from his eyes.
How long he sat there, he did not know, but all too soon he was aware of the sky, getting lighter with every passing minute, and he knew in his heart that he had to leave.
As the sun rose gradually, casting bright light onto the still sleeping Victoria's face, Victor sat once more in the window-seat and gazed forlornly at the graveyard in the distance. Suddenly, a splash of colour flitted before him to rest lightly on his sun-drenched skin. Victor looked down curiously and gasped; sitting on his hand was a tiny electric blue butterfly.