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He was going to be the one she could never get off her mind. He was her second love, perhaps, but her first real, adult relationship. With him, she had gone so much farther than she had with the boy who had been her childhood crush, had learned so much about the world around her and what was out there to see and do. With him, there had been love and lust and intrigue and uncertainty and excitment and safety when, at last, they were in each other's arms again, holed away from his father and the world in his bed chamber.
She had trusted him, he had betrayed her, and she had vowed to never let her blind trust rule her decisions ever again. She had fallen in love again, since him. And, now, she had run away from that new love, because of a fight over inconsequencial things, little things, things that wouldn't have any bearing whatsoever on the future.
But they had fought, and she had run, and she had somehow ended up in the new capital city of the continent, the aptly named Paradise City. She strolled the city streets, passing the place where the palace had stood for centuries at least a dozen times, walking the perimeter the wrought iron fence had closed in, separating him from her (though not for very long). And, eventually, walking led her to the brownstone not far from the site of the old castle, a townhouse with almost gothic architecture.
It was like the human song said: There's just too much that time cannot erase.
She mounted the steps to his front door and knocked, even if it was nearly midnight and he may not even be home. But he was home, and he opened the door on the first knock, as if expecting her. He blinked at her, muttered a greeting, forced a smile, half asleep, but still surprised to see her. She didn't smile, didn't say a word. She stepped forward, eyes silently asking for an invitation inside, before she changed her mind, before the amorality of it all hit her and pulled her back, pulled her away, pulled her where she belonged and far away from where she was.
"Amad--" he managed before she fell into his arms, lips covering his, hungry and searching for solace. His hands grasped her shoulders, unsure if he should push her away or hold her to him, so he ended up pulling her inside but still managing to keep her at arm's length. He pulled away half a moment to shut the door and release the cloak from around her shoulders, watching it fall to the floor in a heap. He glanced at her, searching her eyes for some emotion, but her eyes, usually so lively and bright, seemed dead. She was there, but she seemed to have herself convinced that she wasn't really there. She had come to him a moment of weakness, and anything that happened between them meant nothing.
They kissed again, and this time, he held her tight to his body. They fit together perfectly, just as they used to, curve matching curve and lips pressed together, barely pausing to come up for air. They were intoxicted by each other, unnerved by each other, perhaps a bit frightened of each other.
He led the way upstairs to his bedroom, about a quarter of the size his old chambers had been, back when Palresena had a king and this young man was a prince and sole heir to the throne. And this girl, who had been naive, and then thrust into life all at once, followed without another thought.
Tonight was a reality only for now--tomorrow, it would be a memory, a lapse in judgement, an homage to the past they'd shared.
There's just too much that time cannot erase.
 OuEstLaCraie · Sun Apr 20, 2008 @ 02:15am · 0 Comments |
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