stl: all american rejects, 'gives you hell'
She hadn't changed much.
That was the first thing he noticed. She was still as thin as she was the first day his breath caught in his throat when he stuttered his name. Her face was still as warm and welcoming as the sun, still so beautiful after all this time. A part of him had forgiven her for the words she slung at him in the heat of the moment, drawing a ragged line in the sand, daring him to cross it. The rest of him (what was left after those barbed words had torn through him) still flared with anger gueled by his bitterness.
He would never let her see what she had done to him.
He would smile and nod and pretend that he wasn't die again and again just behind the shell that stood in front of her. He would hug her and laugh with her and clumsily dance with her. He would play the game of catch-up, talk meaningless conversation about the weather and the space in between their visits. He would let her carefully constructed sentences lead his tongue, avoiding the darker subject of just where things went wrong. He would cover her hand while he swallowed his heartbreak. He would kiss her cheek and promise to see her soon.
In his car, on the drive home, he would pull over and let the grief consume him.
This is exactly how the scenario will play out forever and ever, until death do they part. Until his last breath, he would never let her think for a moment he still called out to her in his sleep, that his arm still reached to pull her closer as he dreamed. No, these things he kept in their own box in the farthest corner of his mind. There were so many things in this world he couldn't protect her from, but this agony-- he would save her this much.
She was too innocent after all of these years for this kind of pain.
Truth be told, he still loved her.
He would still take her back if she asked.