Disclaimer: Mr. Wolf owns the characters, me just borrowing them.
Thanks to those wonderful reviewers!! You make my day! And brandy for her help. Bobby's thoughts are in bold as I cant get the usual italics to work.
PLZ read & review.
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He opened the door to his flat, walking inside and into the comforts of routine. It seemed so surreal, everything as he left it, an alternate universe to the chaos that had been so defining. He walked to his bathroom, and undressed. Fatigue slowed every movement, even the simplest. He looked into the mirror, his weight draining through his arms onto the basin as focused hard with his heavy eyes. Her blood blurred the image, a decisive stain on his upper cheek. He rubbed at the crimson smudge with his hand then pulled away in self-revulsion. Stepping into the shower, needles of hot water stabbing at his skin. He leaned his back onto the harsh cold of the blue tiles, closing his eyes and drifting into a momentary repose.
The familiar luminous burned holes in the image, highlighting and hindering. I could still see it, a broken record replaying on the impact of my eyelids, accentuating the moment, the suffering. I could see her now, never moving, a perpetual moment playing in seconds, the blur of life continuing unperturbed by our presence at a speed that defied normality. She didn't stir, but remained in an innate sleep; her chest still rose and fell. I touched her, surrounded in anarchic background of faces and sensation, but she didn't move. Her scars were gone; the blood still lay discarded on the tar around her but was free from her skin. She was in a limbo between life and something surreal, a defining peace that was never appreciated.
His eyes snapped open. He was crimson from the intense heat of the shower but numb from emotion. The stinging suddenly revived its presence, his eyes uncovering grazed knees from the tar. He shut his eyes, he hurt everywhere, if not emotionally his physical scars appeared. He drained his thoughts in a wash of hot stem and water, rubbing his hands against his weary head in despair. Water trickled down his head, broad shoulders and chest; reliving a minuet amount of tenderness. Eventually he became aware of the thinking steam of the room clinging to the walls. He got out, and climbed into bed. He pulled a sheet over his naked shoulder gently, clasping it tightly in his now ivory knuckles with what strength he had left. The droning sounds of a CD filled the superficial exterior of the mood, the beat burning a repetitious tune in his mind. But it drowned out the sounds, the record in his head. He didn't shut his eyes, instead following they concentrated on the furrows of the carpet.
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Bobby opened his eyes slowly, the image of the darkened room infusing his eyes gradually. Shadows darkening the image, he could barely see the clocks image. The artificial green luminous spelt 9:14am. He rolled back, tossing his head back onto the pillow and looking up at the ceiling. Thinking about her, lying like him, only he was aware. That was the only difference. He quickly dressed in jeans and a jacket. He wasn't worried about warmth; he no longer felt direct concern for himself. Only her. He was losing the feeling of life, his vitality had gone, substituted with worry and fear. He hadn't eaten for a day, but the sensation of hunger had never appeared. He told himself he would eat if it returned. He wandered in indifference around his apartment, the meticulous order of it perplexing. He jogged down the steps and to his car, laving his world behind, its significance diminishing with every thought of her.
The pungent smell of the hospital suspended heavily in his head, dizzying his thoughts. The surrounds where alive, people darting back and forth nonchalantly brushing others aside. He entered her room, the tranquility and innocence returned as he caught the image of her. The nurse busied herself with evaluations until she noticed Bobby's presence. She smiled brightly.
"She's improving rapidly." She said glancing up.
Bobby nodded, approaching her eagerly. Hands in his pockets, little expression on his face as he took a deep breath and eased himself into the chair next to her. He leaned his weight forward, arching his back slightly over her. The repetitive beeping of machines, an exasperation of the stillness, but his mind was ignoring it, transfixed solely on her face. Pure and radiant, she engulfed his mind as he observed her life. That was all he could do. He held her hand, and gently brushed it against his cheek. Still warm, its heat radiating through his skin and into his veins. A sign of life that refused to diminish. He wiped her blonde hair from her forehead, and feeling its softness was compelled to gently brush his lips just above her eyes. He smiled as he drew back. She was still there, still with him, and she was getting recovering. He could see it in her warm cheeks, her cherry lips. She would never leave him; her determination could defy the obligatory.
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Hours had passed; there seems no relative for time. In a bleak world of simulated light, artificial air and an imitation existence it is superfluous. Things don't change here, not in hours, not in days or months or years. They seem perpetual and it's perceived as a mere miracle if defiance occurs. The only reality is her, the only thing existing in purpose. I close my eyes and I still see it. The light, the brightness, the luminous. Scarring my retina with permanence, fueling an already wild burning insomnia. I tickle her fingers, but a response doesn't come. Instead I place her hand back on her chest, lightly kiss her forehead, whispering my love and goodnights before I begin to put on my coat.
"Bobby." The voice is muffled, but undeniable. "Don't leave me."
"Alex?" He looked at her, her eyes barely open but he could just make out the sparkle. A small flinch of her mouth, she was resistant to talk. But she was awake.
"I. I wont. Don't worry." He said, brushing her hand against his chin. She shut her eyes, and strains a deep breath.
"I did it this time, didn't I, Bobby?" She half smirks, but a painful frown rapidly overwhelms her. He can see her hurting, every expression details it further.
He places a finger gently over her lips, ushering her silence. He smiles, moving his hand onto the warmth of her cheek. He leans over gently, an arm bridging across her body, the other cupping her cheek, he leans into her and gently kisses her lips. She watches him intently with her brown eyes, as he brushes his mouth to hers, not flinching once. The electricity and warmth is insurmountable, and the pain and hurt drown into oblivion. He gently pulls back, a smile evident in his intense eyes. He strokes her head gently, she feels the comfort, the slight tickle, and relaxes into his hand. She shuts her eyes till he speaks again.
"Alex, I never knew it, but I love you more than you can ever imagine."
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???should there be more???
