I've made it a point of not mixing love and pleasure in my life.
His breath smells like peppermint. He hugs her close and asks what she's doing back. Her first instinct is to tell him a lie, to create an illusion that she's lost and needs help. She doesn't.
"It didn't work out." She tells him. Honestly. It wasn't her type of thing. She has dreams that are bigger than 'The Wiz', but she's not ready to share that with anyone yet. Not even him.
He asks if she's staying for a while and when she says she hasn't found anything yet, just planning to find a cheap motel, he offers her his couch. Again. She lies down, lets him kiss her forehead like he did the last time, watches as he walks away. She lies still, completely still, and listens to the silence engulf the apartment he once shared with his wife. A wife no longer present physically or emotionally in the rooms around her.
Almost asleep, she hears soft steps come towards her and stirs on the couch. She hears the faucet running and sits up. She walks towards the light of the kitchen and finds him pouring water into a glass.
"I hope I didn't wake you."
"You didn't." She says softly, still not fully awake.
She doesn't remember how they ended up kissing in the kitchen, but she does remember wrapping her legs around him as he carried her into his bedroom. It felt good to feel close to someone again. His hands were gentle as he lifted her pajama top over her, softly touching her breasts as his breath became more rapid. He kissed her again; opening his eyes every once in a while to look at her. As if he couldn't believe she was there. She felt herself fall backwards onto soft sheets and made herself comfortable as he lay down next to her. She looked at him – she wanted to give him an out. Let him know it was ok to run. That she was scared too. He kissed her neck, his hands quickly removing her underwear. Whispers of promises to be soon broken fill the air of the night as April gives in to feelings she didn't want to have.
He felt better than he had in her dreams.
When he leaves the bed the next morning, pressing a lingering kiss to her swollen lips, all she remembers is the way his arms felt around her body. The way his breath tickled the skin on her neck. The way he'd stir occasionally through the night, just barely, and murmur her name in his sleep; "April." He would hug her closer and enclose her hand within his.
She hears the shower run and considers joining him, but lets it hang in the great unknown. She sneaks a peak at his backside when he rummages through his closet for a clean shirt.
She hears him whistle as he leaves, the door slamming as he rushed out. Hears him mumble; "Shit, Schuester, don't wake her." and it makes her giggle.
She stretches on the bed, stopping when she feels something furry touch her hand. She looks over, a large teddy bear looking right at her from his side of the bed. The note in the bears lap says simply; "Couldn't find a rose. He'll keep you company until I come home. Don't go away. Love, Will"
She can't help but smile, but as quickly as feeling of happiness filled her, it shakes her to the core.
As she packs the two small bags she arrived with, jumps into the shower and quickly dresses, she imagines what to write, how to explain why she's not staying. Why she can't stay. She's made promises to herself to not let herself fall in love. Lust, trouble, pleasure, all fine; but never love. She writes five attempts before taking a deep breath and scribbles down two words on a piece of paper, leaving it next to the teddy bear she assumes he'd bought for the child that never was. "I feel myself…"; "I'm afraid of what I'll…" – platitudes she feels she should offer as explanation for her absence. In reality, she has no good reason and leaves quietly, lingering slightly at the bedroom door before letting the door shut behind her.
She stares out the window of the train taking her to anywhere and everywhere, imagining his face as he finds her note. She lets a tear fall freely to her cheek, taking a deep breath as she whispers inaudibly;
"I'm sorry."