Welcome to this song-inspired one-shot. Please enjoy.  

I cover my eyes with my trembling hands, but I see the corners of her soft lips rise into a gentle smile that is warmer than what warmth a spring afternoon can offer me.

I cover my ears with fingers that shake uncontrollably, yet I hear her the clearness of her broken laughter echoing in the pits of my bleak thoughts; her dark, dead orbs staring barrenly into mine.

I grit my teeth as I resist to scream out her name; to call for her, to vociferate her loss, to cry out her return, to yell at her, to whisper to her those three words that we both desperately craved to hear. 

I constantly yell at myself to forget, in spite of that, I smell the familiarly intoxicating scent of her perfume lingering in the air, and feel the ghost of her thin arms snaking around my neck.

"It's warm," she barely whispers, sitting in between my legs as she slides her foot along her heel, slipping the unreasonably tall pumps out of her feet, causing a clanking sound to echo in our empty apartment room. Rays of morning light peek through the window, casting shadows against our faces. I lower my head to rest my chin on the crook of her neck, and she snuggles closer to my body, her back enveloping in the warmth of my chest. I see her hand slowly reach towards the sunlight, as if to attain that light that shines upon us, and I reach my own to hers; my palm brushing against the back of her hand. Interlacing our fingers together, I breathe with her.

The memories of her exist in the pits of Inferno, driving my deranged mind deeper into hell. I run a hand through my tousled jet black hair and violently thrash out at the recollections of her. I sit on the cracked surface of the leather couch, my back slumped, gaze empty, eyebrows furrowed, lips tightened.

"I'm a criminal," I tell her. "I don't deserve you." She stands behind the couch that I sit on as I stare blankly at the bricked wall ahead of us. Her arms wrap around my shoulders from behind the seat, her lips brushing against my cheek. She showers my face with light kisses causing her jet black hair to fall over my shoulders, tickling my neck. 
"You may not deserve me, but I deserve you," she speaks softly as her hands reach down my torso, caressing my tight body; her magical fingers causing me to relax unconsciously. It was then that her name morphed into the mantra of my existence. It was then that her being became my everything. It was then that we loved each other, and filled each other's stained, half-empty hearts.

It's a shame I memorized her being. I memorized every memory associated with her. My mind consciously retains every tangible and intangible thing that connects me to her. 

She glares at me with those set of eyes that I both love and hate, opening to shriek at me; every word from her hoarse voice piercing my soul, both making and breaking me. She is tearing me apart, yet she is mending my shattered existence. She is vexing my already chaotic condition, but she shapes a version of me that can take whatever the world throws at me. She is my everything.
"How could you get caught?!" she yells at me. "I can't believe they saw you."
I furrow my eyebrows in frustration. Shut up.
"What do you think we're supposed to do now?!" she says, stomping the ground like a child throwing a fit. "What if they come back for revenge!?"
I bury my face in my hands. Stop it.
"Why did I even decide to stay with you?" she questions, testing my patience, which cracks immediately as the words leave .
"," I finally decide to shout at her, my deep voice raising in rage. She glowers at me, slighty gaping open in shock at my sudden eruption, which she triggered to burst within me.

Do I regret it? Do I regret committing her living entity to memory? The contriteness I start to feel for my life becomes more and more apparent with the passing of time—I start to regret the life that I dedicated to her. Those pledges we swore together—the promise that our lives will live an eternity with each other—will never come true anymore. Even if it's gone, I can still see it in front of me. I still see it as an unattainable reality; a distant dream; a reverie that I still regretfully walk towards to this day.

They threatened me. They told me they would kill her with their own hands, if I didn't see them by Monday. It's all my fault. It's because I got caught. It's because they saw me killing him. It's because of me. I let these thoughts course through my muddled mind as I stare at the dirty duvet sprawled on the hard canvas of my mattress, my eyes laying upon the empty space beside me. My hands grip onto the covers in desperation as I think of how to save her. I stand up abruptly, causing the blanket to cloak the wooden planks of the ground, falling to my toes. Ignoring it, I walk to the red cabinet, pulling open the drawers until my eyes land on the familiar shape of a metallic object that is cold against my skin. The lustrous item flashes in my eyes as I raise it towards the ceiling, light reflecting from it. I need her. My fingers wrap tightly around the gun.

I'm trapped in an eternal nightmare that torments me; the agony of losing her returns to me, doubling over, scattering the pieces of my already fragmented heart into the pits of oblivion. And I continue to relive this hellish nightmare, because I remember.

Meet at the subway. That was what I was told to do. If that's all I have to do to save her, then I'm going to do it. As I walk robotically into the dark underground, I hear the distant sirens of the police. Somehow, I manage to maintain a blank expression. I finally arrive at my destination and finally see her face, her eyes registering vulnerability as she is trapped in the arms of my enemies, momentarily catching me off guard. Her eyes meet mine. The police catch sight of my impending figure, and try to stop me as I stubbornly ignore them, shoving one to the ground, punching one to the floor. I continue to walk towards her, shooting obstacles along the way.

I feel something metallic pierce my thigh. The pain is blinding, but the pain of seeing her teary face hurts me more. I feel something cold penetrate my calf. It is nothing compared to the dull aching in my heart when I see her sadness. Again and again, I feel bullets puncturing my skin, causing me to teeter between the fence of both death and life. I manage to force a smile at her as she watches me with horror. I swiftly raise my hand to shoot the man that encases her, gore splattering from the back of his head. I shoot the other with ease. The sounds of bullets echo in the dark underpass. She falls into my arms.