(for convolution@lj)

He was leaving her today.

There was no need for words; she just knew. It was evident from the look in his eyes that the frayed silk threads attaching him to her were finally breaking.

He was leaving her. And yet, she had not spoken the words that he so desperately needed to hear.

How many years had it been since they met in the middle of a bridge with their hearts open and hanging from their sleeves? How many months had she wished that he would see beyond the “future” he’s written for them and realize that her heart was not in the place? How many days had she longed for a single moment where she could fly free without having to break his heart?

It strikes her somewhat pathetic how she is to be standing strong and ignoring the aching pain of her breaking heart as he packed his things one by one. It was never meant to be. His heart had already faded away over time, and she had not done anything to stop it. All she could do was pretend to be happy, doting and glad when inside she knew that he knew that it was fake but he loved her anyway. She had never been good at things like this. Never.

She sighed and turned her attention back to the swirling images on the television screen, watching a man and a woman embrace while being surrounded by moon light and fireflies.

Once, they had been happy. Once, when the world had not been blanketed in the bleak white and grey that surrounded them now. Once, when life had been dashed with pretty pinks and emeralds, when lilting laughs had soothed them from the tension, warded them from the pain, reassured them of a future, and strengthened them with hope.

He had been happy, because she had felt happy.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, dropping silently onto her hand as his footsteps pattered around the room.

Life had never been easy for him. He had come from a small town, with no money or family to watch over him. He struggled to survive, eating off scraps and working various jobs in order to reach his dream. She had been, more than once, spiteful towards him – huffing about his upbringing and appearance – before crying on his shoulder (“I’m alone. No one will love me.”) hours later the very same day they met. He had comforted her without regard of her earlier