AN: I have no f*ing idea. Please forgive me.
She shouldn't be here. She knows that, feels it quite clearly in her gut that this is wrong. But she just can't stop herself. She sees hurt and pain flicker briefly in his eyes before his expression hardens. It's like a door slamming shut, and she can no longer read what he's thinking. She should leave. She should really, really leave. She even thinks to say it out loud, to make the notion real so she might actually follow it, but that's not what comes out.
I missed you.
The mask slips ever so slightly on his face, and he looks away. This is a bad idea. Every single cell in her brain is screaming 'Run! Get out!', but her feet take a step forward.
Why are you here?
The question makes her hesitate. Just for a moment.
I don't know.
It's the truth, for once. She doesn't know why she's here. Doesn't know what she's expecting to gain (or lose) from this encounter. Everything just hurts so much, and she thought she needed to come here. Needed to see him. She moves forward again, the distance between them ever closing. He doesn't step back. He should, oh my god, he should. Because the closer she gets, the more she can feel her self-control slipping away.
What do you want?
He's trying so hard not to crumble, to fall apart. She knows she should stop. Should spare them both from more pain, but she's already gone too far now. He's standing only inches from her and she can almost feel the heat radiating from him. 'What do you want?' he had asked. She knew what she wanted. She just couldn't say it.
He breathed her name. As a warning, as a question, she didn't know, but it made her meet his gaze finally, full on. And that was her biggest mistake of all because the second their eyes locked, the last strand of self-control snapped in both of them. They launched themselves at each other, mouths finally, desperately meeting, all teeth and tongues. Clothes began to hit the floor as they made their way to the bedroom. It wasn't the slow and sweet love-making of their former days. This was rough and fast and tainted with all the pain and anger that neither knew how to deal with or let go.
Nothing was spoken afterwards. They each simply gathered up their clothes, got dressed, and then she left. Out the door, back down the steps, and driving away. She never looked back, and he never stopped her.
Five minutes. She made it five minutes down the road before she couldn't hold them in any longer. She pulled over to the side of the street and let herself cry, cry for the lost years. Cry for the lost friendships. Cry for the lost love. But most of all cry because she knew, she knew that she would go back. A few weeks, a few months maybe, if she was lucky, but one day soon she would go back, and the pattern would repeat. She didn't know how long they would keep this cycle up before one of them broke. Before there was more screaming and shouting. Before there was finally talking and healing. Before one of them simply said no and walked away forever.
No, she didn't know when this would ever end, but she didn't really mind that. What she really hated, out of everything that had happened or would happen, was how much she didn't want it to end.
And that's what scared her the most.