I won't miss you. I don't. How could I? You were – ARE – nothing to me.
What we had was nothing…
He stood staring over the city from their flat. He followed the seemingly endless supply of lights flutter across the landscape until they all became one big blur. The smell of dying cigarettes, charred furniture, and the occasional whiff of alcohol fuse into a brutal attack on his senses as he tries to understand the rage and sadness battling it out inside of him.
She was gone.
He chased her away.
She meant nothing. He said that to her. Her opinion didn't matter. She didn't matter. For years he believed this to be true.
So why am I hurting?
He remembers a time, not so long ago, when the two of them were fighting side by side, helping out that weakling.
The glass in his hand shatters, and amber liquid flows down his hard fist, and embeds itself in the carpet at his bare feet.
The helped him defeat that girl.
Royal Pain. He smirked. Clever name.
He remembers the day she turned away from that weakling, coming straight into his arms as he leaned against the wall outside the church, trying to calm the raging fire inside of him. She took him away, and they ran. Ran away from everyone who'd dare cast a glance at them.
He remembers telling her, just a few days after that, that she had made a mistake to come with him and not marry Stronghold. She glared at him playfully, grabbed his face with both her hands, and they kissed.
He turns away from the fire and passion in that memory, only to be faced by a new one.
It's as if he's watching them as a stranger. He sees a young couple, very much in lo – lust, diving deeper into the temptation of the flesh as they, with shaking hands and excited smiles, tear at one another's clothes. The fire spreads as they tumble to the ground, a braid of limbs and hushed whispers, so as to not wake the neighbors.
His mouth slips, and her eyes grow wide in disbelief. A slow smile creeps across her face as his slip-up sinks in, and then, it's no longer just an act, it suddenly becomes more meaningful, this was a scene many girls desired to experience. He watches as his memory turns to not just being about sex, but about making love.
Love.
Realization strikes.
Layla.
Pain and sadness overcome him in a wave of anger at himself. He falls to the floor, his brow slick with sweat, his chest heaving with dry sobs as he watches her leave all over again. His world spins as he watches the scene.
She's hurt. It's in her eyes. His words have hit a chord, and the chord is playing out as the tears rolling down her beautiful face. She wipes them away, her hands brushing her flames of hair away from her face, behind her ears. She wants to say something, she's dying to say something, but he cuts her off with another painful blow of the tongue. Her stance becomes defensive, she turns and heads for the door, she reaches and swings it open. She stops and turns, not looking him in the eye. Not facing him directly. Words try to form, try to fight their way out, but he's turned his back to her. It's deathly quiet for a moment, and then the door clicks shut.
She's gone.
I chased her off with words I never believed, words inspired by nothing but fear.
"I don't love you, Layla."
A lie.
The door opens behind him, he spins, his breath catches in his throat.
Layla.
She takes a step forward. He swallows. He moves to say something, she holds her hand out. Palm up, effectively silencing him with the gesture, stopping him in his tracks.
"Before you say anything, let me just say this." She takes a deep breath, her green eyes hold his dark brown, her lips part as she takes a deep breath, "I don't want to leave you. I love you. I knew I loved you the moment I stood in front of all those people with Will by my side. I knew it the moment I saw the smile on your face when you saw me coming down the stairs without him…"
Relief floods through him, and he ignores every sentence she's saying. He moves towards her again, and envelopes her in his arms, holding her against his chest. She stops. It's deathly quiet once again, and he feels the need to speak before she changes her mind.
"I'm sorry."
She does nothing for a few long seconds. His throat runs dry and he's ready to let go, when suddenly, her hands are holding his face again, pulling his face towards her, and then, their lips meet in a smoldering kiss.
They pull away breathless and hold on to one another, neither are willing enough to let go. He runs his hand over her red hair.
"I missed you." She lets out a short laugh and looks up at him with a smile.
"I missed you too."