stl: rufus wainwright, 'hallelujah'
It was their first night together; it was their last night together.
Every encounter, every second she was able to let her guard down, brought reality to the forefront of her mind: this would not last. They stole quick glances when circumstance permitted, brushed against each other at every opportunity but it was never enough. The ache thrummed insistently in her chest-- a whirring fan that would not cease. As his lips skimmed the skin of her neck, she arched against him, forgetting, for the moment, the repercussions of their actions. He left her breathless and unable to dwell on whether or not they would survive if they were found in this compromising position; it didn't matter anymore if they died tonight or the next or a century from now.
All that mattered was that, for all of her pretense and posturing, she was fragile.
In the night, behind velvet curtains, marble turned to porcelain as his had slid along her side. She softened, not by degrees, but by leaps. Under the alert gaze of his dark eyes, she allowed herself to fall apart entirely. Her fingers curled in his hair as his lips sewed beautiful lines, piecing her back together like a beloved and well-worn quilt. Tonight, though, the panic settled into her bones. Tonight, the fervent kisses along his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, his forehead, spoke of her fear. He was going away. She could feel the knowledge; no one had to say it to her. She could feel the tension in the muscles of his back as he rocked against her, his pace never increasing. The damp air was still, not even the crickets sang their mournful love songs to drown out her whimpers.
And then it was over.
She screamed in her mind; she raged. The anger was not directed at him. No, it may have ended too soon but this night was not about her physical needs. She had wanted to show him that, before he was gone, she already missed him. He had understood. But, now that it was over, now that the tremors could sneak in, she was a petulent child once again, clinging to the only body that made her strong, real. She longed to be real, to be loved like this for eternity. He was going. And she was powerless to stop it.
They walked to the door slowly, hours later, hand-in-hand. He squeezed hers gently as a soft smile played on the corners of his lips. She returned the gesture before opening the door and stepping into the cavernous world of the unknown. Her bravado would keep her alive in this place in his absence. The sickeningly toxic side of her would protect her breaking heart. He released her hand, a final goodbye. She stared after him, watching as he walked a line to an uncertain fate.
Her mask was once again firmly in place.