The beautiful bride's face was flushed, she twisted her bouquet nervously. Her eyes were wet. Brides cried at their weddings Claire knew but… weren't they supposed to glow with this inner joy or something. She looked kind of green. Claire knew if she was the one getting married today she'd be weeping for joy and smiling till her face ached.

It was so frustrating. She wanted to conk the bride over the head with one of those little cherubs sitting on the flower table. She wanted to drag her outside and yell at her, tell her she doesn't deserve him, how she could never love him the way she loves him. But she wouldn't ever really do that. But it made her feel better picturing it in her head.

Claire firmly blinked back the wetness that was threatening to spill from her eyes as well. Her insides felt all twisted together. She didn't think she'd ever be able to untangle them, or if she'd even want to. To be able to forget all this pain, this constant ache in her heart would have been bliss. But she couldn't forget, couldn't let go. He was all she lived for now. She could never have this fantasy, could never eat of this forbidden fruit.

She'd let him think that she had gotten over him. He'd never know, she'd never let on how that crooked smile took her breathe away. He never know that she secretly loved his emo bangs she so often teased him about. He'd never know how much he killed her inside.

"I don't understand. Why?" Her voice wavered. Her face registered her surprise and shock. The indestructible girl looked so vulnerable. Tears pooled in her eyes.

"Claire," He began, not really knowing what to say. He ran his hand through his hair searching for words, words he didn't want to stay but knew he had too.

She reached for his arm, a familiar gesture. "But I l-,"

He pulled sharply away from her, cutting her off. He couldn't do this, have her touching him, couldn't have her say that, make his resolve weaken.

"No, don't say it. You don't." He couldn't help but look at her face, a single tear streaking across her face. He wanted to reach out and catch it, hold her face with his hands and never have her cry again. And it was his fault.

"I thought that…" She looked so lost. "Peter…." She trailed off and looked up to meet his eyes.

A shiver ran down his back as she said his name. He loved her more that she would ever know…

And he always would he acknowledged to himself. Forever, he'd love her. He loved her so much that he had to let her go.

She loved him now, or so she thought. But she was so young, too young to know what she was doing, what she getting herself into. To be with him she'd never have a normal life. They'd always be lying, hiding their love, pretending to be people they weren't. Someday it'd get out. Their families would reject them. She'd loose them and it would be his fault. It was something that could haunt her the rest of her life something she could never fix. Someday she'd wake up and ask herself what the hell she was doing here, lying next to him. She'd realize she didn't love him and she'd leave. She'd end up hating him for what he cost her. He could never bear that. By then there would be no pieces left of his heart left to pick up.

He had to do this now, for the both of them. There was one way to save them.

"I don't love you anymore." Claire looked like he had just stabbed her with a knife.

"You can't mean that Peter."

He had to continue, leave no doubt in her mind. "I never loved you. Not like that." He twisted the knife watching her visibly pale. "I'm sorry Claire. It's been fun. But don't you think it's time we ended this little game?" He forced a smirk on his face; like he had thought this whole nothing more than a casual fling and that it was so cute how she was getting worked up over it.

Claire just kept shaking her head in utter disbelief.

Every word he spoke felt like he was ripping out pieces of his heart and grinding them under his foot. Any hurt he thought she felt now was nothing compared to his. Her heart would mend. She'd move on, love again. He never would.

She turns around suddenly at the door and looks at him, not caring what he may think. "I love you Peter." She then rushes out the door not daring to look back.

Peter wanted to run after her, tell her it was all a mistake. The agony that was shooting through him was intense.

He wanted to get drunk. He picked up his drink, drinking it all in one swallow. He wished he was able to. Damn ability. His hand gripped the glass so hard it shattered across the counter, pieces falling to the floor. Immediately his ability set to work, pushing out the fragments and then sealing the wounds back up. If only it could do that to emotional as well as physical wounds.

He stared at the pieces on the floor, just not caring anymore. He knew he could pick them up like he did that first time with Claire. He could. But what was the point? He could reconstruct it, but it would never be whole; he would never be whole again no matter how hard he tried.

Author's note: Yatta! Another chapter and in Peter's POV. Don't worry next chapter will be longer. Reviews are welcome.