He set fire to the world and burned everything around him down to ashes, but he never let a flame touch her. And on the coldest nights, he would look for her glow among the burning ambers of her fiery soul. When he’s alone, he listens to her murder his heart and spit fire at them all.

It’s the first day of autumn, when leaves are falling and colouring every corners of the city with glowing hues of red and orange, that he finally gets his heart back.

It’s just the two of them now. And it’s for the first time ever, that when he looks right at her, he’s seeing her, like – actually seeing her.

Everything seems to have slowed down and intensified between them, from the yearning in her heart to the need for him to assure her that it’s okay, he’s okay, and everything will be fine.

She waits.

But he doesn’t, not a single word slips from his mouth, maybe because he’s afraid that his voice might crack, his tears might fall or maybe he’s just too afraid that his heart is breaking.

His body remains frozen, unable to fathom what exactly is going on, unable to conjure up something or anything to make up for what’s unfolding before him.

She holds his gaze for a long, silent moment, then leans forward very slowly, with one hand, she reaches for his face. The spark in her eyes blazes even more fiercely as she tastes the sting of liquor, his favourite whiskey, on his chapped lips, and places a final kiss before they bid their last farewell without a word being said. When he backs away, taking a few unstable steps from her, his expression is strangely stark and inscrutable. He can’t even find the courage to say goodbye – and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s still too scared to do so, or if it’s because the word seems to possess a tone of finality to it that he doesn’t want to believe is real.

“Nothing lasts forever.” She feels a pang of disappointment in her heart; there’s no regret or sadness, it’s in fact more of self-pity. And then, with a heart-breaking smile, nothing like the sun this time, she lets him go and walks away.

His heart isn’t broken when he gets it back from her, but it’s too worn out and torn apart, with blood dripping down to the ground, gradually colouring the carpet in his car a burgundy red. He blinks once, then twice, staring expressionlessly at the red and raw mess that he has been holding in his hand for a long while now. It ceases to beat.

He stops, and freezes, catching his breath slightly, before he jolts back to reality and realizes she’s really gone now as if nothing's wrong.

Except everything is.

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