AN: We all know I'm shamelessly crawling back, finally washing off some of my rust and getting back into motion again with my writing. Sure, I'm supposed to be writing something else, but why not test out my gears here? So, here it is.

Title: Falling Out of Love

Author: Duchess of Darkness

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It's easy to fall in love...

But there ain't no easy way out.

- BRMC

Smoke curled from the cigarette. A long breath of white. The flapping of wings overhead.

He smirked and gazed out through purple lenses. Nothing new here.

A breeze tossed his hair, running a shiver down his spine. Just a reminder.

That sudden presence behind him warms him. Cools him. Tells him nothing other than what he wants.

A tired breath tickles his neck. The signal of a groggy awakening.

He fingered a thread of hair pulled loose out of its usual style. It pooled around him like a curtain.

A smile. A 'good morning.' A curl of arms around a waist.

It was the same again this morning. He glanced back over his shoulder.

Same birds. Same morning. Same smoke. Same lover. Same same same.

Nothing exciting. Not now anyway.

A cloud passes before the sun. He turns to properly hold the other.

Chaste kiss on the corner of the mouth. Accompanying, a smile and a quick pluck of the cigarette before another kiss.

Even now bells jingled with their movement. Someone below shouts up at them.

He pulls away and looks below. Oh, that idiot again.

Brown blocks his vision, turning him back around. Smirk; a light tug inside.

Another puff of smoke, then compliance. Sure, why not?

The rise of heat. The molding of bodies. The sounds of outside drifting through.

Impatience. Boredom. Want. How much longer, was he to ponder.

Final descent from the bed, the room, the building. Meet up, walk out; hello, goodbye.

He glanced up at the balcony, the window, the person leaning heavily on the railing. Acknowledgement.

He knew. He knew. They knew. Hello. Goodbye. Let's go. See you later.

Hurry up. Hold on. Move. Stop. Hello? ...Goodbye.

Always. Never again. It was his beat. Just not his stride.

He smiled. He waved. He blew up smoke. He curled his fingers through the air at something not there.

You going? You know it. All right then.

Jump in, fall out. He wondered slightly when and why he ever made the first move.

Too late. Just the right time. Wrong. Perfect.

Sure? Of course.

Smoke curled from the cigarette. A long breath of white. The flapping of wings overhead.

He smirked and gazed out through purple lenses. Nothing new here.

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Review? It's been a while, so comments are greatly appreciated.