Here's a short one-shot that I wrote a while ago for school. I hope it's clear and the different parts are separated! I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope it's alright!
Conversations
She looks beautiful in white.
As she flutters about greeting her guests, I watch from the shade of a nearby tree. She always wanted to have her wedding outdoors with lots of flowers and sunshine. This is how she always envisioned it to be.
I told myself that I would not come.
She says something I don't quite catch and peers at me from over the rim of her red Dixie cup. Her eyes crinkle at the corners in a smile that I know is mirrored on my own visage.
All around us is chaos; writhing limbs and jagged timbres entangled in passionate cacophony. Drinks slosh about and splash onto the ground carelessly, casual words are strewn about, and we dance the night away in a frenzy.
She lays a tentative hand on my arm, the welcome coolness pulling me away from the buzzing numbness that had taken over my mind. All my senses had deserted me, yet I still hear her voice against the screeching din of the background.
Come, she says. I see sparks trail from the corner of her eyes as she glances back at me with a grin. Between us there is only want, need, and the embers of the night.
The wedding invite came in the mail, lovingly inserted in a fancy envelop with embroidered corners. In the card, my name was written in her looping cursive, and I thought I felt some remnants of longing in the black ink. Hope to see you there!
I shouldn't have come, really.
We lay in the dark, face-to-face on crisp white sheets, relishing each other's company.
The light breeze from the open window sweeps over our feverish bodies and dances about our tiny bedroom, ruffling the playful wisps of stray hair that kisses her freckled cheeks. I trace the contours of her face, the crook of her neck, and the arc of her lop-sided smile with my eyes, knowing every curve of her shape.
When our eyes meet, her eyes are glowing with an ethereal beauty. She shuffles closer and plants a soft kiss on my lips, then snuggles into my frame, murmuring about the future. I feel her breaths feather over my shoulder and imagine the way her lips move as she speaks.
I love you. The words are almost lost in her slurred whispers. Neither of us know what we are saying anymore as the lull of the night envelops us, but I pull her closer to me in reply.
Together we fall. Further and harder into a haze where there is only us and our sighed words.
I am shaken out of my daydreams when I hear her voice drift toward me on the spring breeze. My heart clenches involuntarily at the realization that she is coming closer.
She is a machine gun. Her tones are like the thundering cracks of bullets fired: unforgiving, indiscriminate, lethal. She kneels in her trenches, waist-deep in her own tears as she shoots away at the other side.
Her thoughts are shrapnel; her words her arsenal. Shots pierce my body and tear away holes of my flesh, leaving behind only pain and a frozen numbness in my chest. I am left standing on the other side of the battlefield, the other side of our dining room table, as her sorrow and frustrations spill from her eyes.
The numbness is a cavity that spreads; a raging black hole that only takes and crushes. When I open my mouth, I hardly hear the words that fly out of the emptiness that swallows me whole. Part of me knows that I've gone too far, too deep, but I don't care.
She slams her hand onto the flimsy wooden table, and our cutlery clatter against our untouched plates. I don't dare to look at her and instead watch the peas shift on my plate, bumping into each other and attempting to roll away despite their imperfect deformities.
I hear the screech of her chair being pushed back and the hoarse rawness of her voice as she hurls one final insult at me. Go die, she screams, and storms out the door, making sure to give it a good slam.
Suddenly, my mind freezes over in panic and I stumble as I push myself to my feet. My tongue feels swollen, heavy and sluggish, incapable of forming words.
"Natsu?"
I turned around slowly. "Oh, Lucy! Congratulations!"
"Thank you," she says, her eyes downcast. "I'm so glad you made it! I wasn't sure if you would come."
"Why wouldn't I?" Both our fake smiles freeze at her words. "You invited me."
She nods slowly and looks up at me. "I did, and I really am glad you're here. It's good to see you."
"It's good to see you too. I'm so happy for you. Really." I take a deep breath to calm my fraying nerves. I am broken. Foolish and on the verge of collapse.
"Thank you, Natsu."
We lapse into silence, looking past each other into the distance. For us, time was an intangible concept as we raced through the two best years of our lives together. Now time was racing, as we did, and we stand still, trying to convey the moments we hold dear through the spaces between our broken lines.
"How is he?" I croak after the magic had been blown into the wind. "I mean, what's he like?"
"Well," the corners of her mouth twitches upward. "He's not you."
"Thank God." We share a giggle, and when I look at her, her eyes are shining.
"I'm glad I get to see you in a wedding dress. You make a beautiful bride."
"You know, Natsu, I always-"
I take her hands in my own and give them a gentle squeeze. "Better get back to the guests, Luce. Your poor husband over there looks like a lost puppy."
She turns to look in the direction I pointed in, and I take the moment to exit.