It was 2 in the morning. She sat at the window, looking out but not really seeing anything. It was dark outside. Black as the color of death. The moon didn't shine today, as it normally did. She suspected it was hidden somewhere behind some cloud, waiting to be given a chance to come out again. Waiting for those storm clouds to quietly pass by. But of course they didn't. Storm clouds never leave without causing some kind of destructive storm. Most of the time the destructions are reparable. But what if it wasn't now. What if this storm that had just occurred had caused irreparable damage? What would she do? Would she survive the chaos and destruction that surrounded her? Literally. Would she fight for what she loved? Or did it not matter anymore, now that some part, told her she didn't.
He sat on the bed. The bed that had been full of the warmth from their bodies was cold now, her side of it, empty and untouched. There was no light in the room, except for the dullness of the moon, through weathered clouds, marking his silhouette. All around him was broken glass. Remnants of frames and birthday presents that had once been. It was all shattered now. Broken into pieces like the love they once shared. What had they done? where had they gone wrong? How did it come to this? They had been so good together. Now he couldn't stand the sight of her. Her moods, her tantrums, her independence, everything that he once loved about her, now boiled his blood. Maybe it was a good thing that it had come to this. Maybe they just weren't meant to be. Maybe he was better off without her. She was too dramatic and he couldn't stand it. As he walked out to tell her that it was over, his shoe came down on something, further crumpling the shards of glass to pieces. He bent over to pick it up, and stared...
Outside, she sat. Hands in her lap, taking in the bruises from the frames she'd broken in a fit of rage. She had a temper she knew, but so did he. He was as bad as her. As strong-willed as she was. They were like fire against fire. Their love was passionate, but their anger was wrathful. As she sat and looked on, the blood slowly drying around the bruises, she knew it was over. This was a storm, they couldn't surpass. This was a severe fight, they could never get over. Words had been said. Words that could never be taken back. It was words that brought them together, and words that would tear them apart. In that moment she despised 'love.' Love that had consumed her so many times but had eventually fizzled out. She was so engulfed in her own thoughts and emotions that she didn't see him come up to her, and take her hands in his. Even when she did realize, she was too stunned to pull away. He drew her close, still holding her hands, gently but firmly and whispered something in her ear. He pulled back, held her eyes for a moment, got up and went back to the bedroom.
When she opened her palm to see what it was that he had left in her hand, she saw a picture. It was the picture of an abnormally large, homemade cake. Sprinkles had been used to write a sentence in the middle of the cake. She looked at it, and felt her heart contract. Of course she remembered that picture. She had made that cake. It had been one of those nights when he'd been sitting up late and working. She'd woken up in the middle of the night and made that cake to tell him how much she missed him by her side. His arms, the warmth and security of his chest. And he'd laughed so much at the gesture, eventually smearing cake all over her face. It was that day, that they'd sworn, they'd always be together and never leave each others side. She smiled now at the memory, and gave in. That part that had told her only minutes ago that she didn't love him had dissolved. Because she did love him. No matter what. She always had, and always would.And she knew he loved her too. That look that he had just given her, had said it all. So she did exactly what he'd whispered in her ear. She did exactly what was written on that cake that she had baked for him, that night.
As she walked into the bedroom, the picture fell to the ground. And the light of the moon that had finally come out, shone on the words sprinkled delicately onto the cake...
..."Come back to bed."
He sat on the bed. The bed that had been full of the warmth from their bodies was cold now, her side of it, empty and untouched. There was no light in the room, except for the dullness of the moon, through weathered clouds, marking his silhouette. All around him was broken glass. Remnants of frames and birthday presents that had once been. It was all shattered now. Broken into pieces like the love they once shared. What had they done? where had they gone wrong? How did it come to this? They had been so good together. Now he couldn't stand the sight of her. Her moods, her tantrums, her independence, everything that he once loved about her, now boiled his blood. Maybe it was a good thing that it had come to this. Maybe they just weren't meant to be. Maybe he was better off without her. She was too dramatic and he couldn't stand it. As he walked out to tell her that it was over, his shoe came down on something, further crumpling the shards of glass to pieces. He bent over to pick it up, and stared...
Outside, she sat. Hands in her lap, taking in the bruises from the frames she'd broken in a fit of rage. She had a temper she knew, but so did he. He was as bad as her. As strong-willed as she was. They were like fire against fire. Their love was passionate, but their anger was wrathful. As she sat and looked on, the blood slowly drying around the bruises, she knew it was over. This was a storm, they couldn't surpass. This was a severe fight, they could never get over. Words had been said. Words that could never be taken back. It was words that brought them together, and words that would tear them apart. In that moment she despised 'love.' Love that had consumed her so many times but had eventually fizzled out. She was so engulfed in her own thoughts and emotions that she didn't see him come up to her, and take her hands in his. Even when she did realize, she was too stunned to pull away. He drew her close, still holding her hands, gently but firmly and whispered something in her ear. He pulled back, held her eyes for a moment, got up and went back to the bedroom.
When she opened her palm to see what it was that he had left in her hand, she saw a picture. It was the picture of an abnormally large, homemade cake. Sprinkles had been used to write a sentence in the middle of the cake. She looked at it, and felt her heart contract. Of course she remembered that picture. She had made that cake. It had been one of those nights when he'd been sitting up late and working. She'd woken up in the middle of the night and made that cake to tell him how much she missed him by her side. His arms, the warmth and security of his chest. And he'd laughed so much at the gesture, eventually smearing cake all over her face. It was that day, that they'd sworn, they'd always be together and never leave each others side. She smiled now at the memory, and gave in. That part that had told her only minutes ago that she didn't love him had dissolved. Because she did love him. No matter what. She always had, and always would.And she knew he loved her too. That look that he had just given her, had said it all. So she did exactly what he'd whispered in her ear. She did exactly what was written on that cake that she had baked for him, that night.
As she walked into the bedroom, the picture fell to the ground. And the light of the moon that had finally come out, shone on the words sprinkled delicately onto the cake...
..."Come back to bed."
