"Don't speak"

Passion consumed him. All of the feeling deep hidden in his immortal heart, suppressed by half a century of looking at the world of the living behind a prohibitive glass, all of himself he could hide no longer, not in front of her, screamed for affection. Somewhere in the backyard of his mind, while he pinned the woman against the wall of the small, dirty appartment, while they kissed until the air from their lungs was all gone, while she melted under his weight, he knew that all of this was no use; no matter how tight he'd hold her, the hands of a killer would never be able to touch her soul; no matter how many times the lips of the angel had claimed those of the liar, the one would never be able to enhale a little bit of the other's mind; no matter how desperately the flower flickered with the wind, it would always stay faithful to the safety of the plain.

The man chuckled against his companion's lips, making her pull back. Reluctantly. Slowly. Fatally.

"Why did you do that?" the angel giggled beneath the liar's firm grip. The sould flew like poison, soft, smooth, soothing. He could just stand there and listen to her all night, with that innocent, almost sacred voice, that seemed to know the secrets of the world: the ones he'd consciously never see or -heavens, no!- have for himself.

"Hmph. Nothing. It's just that it's... plain ridiculous"

He wasn't quite looking at her. They never stared at each other; it was part of the deal. No stares. No feelings. No logic. It was not a relationship, but a fair exchange of services instead: She said she needed it. He felt he 'd give up everything for it. But both averted their faces, for red is no and green is yes; it was more than a simple clash of personalities; a real cosmic collision, producing enough heat to burn the whole Universe down to the last wandering meteorite.

"You always speak nonsense, Shadow. What is plain ridiculous?"

"How similar we are-me and the Faker- to even have the same tastes in women"-But he uses you. He knows you're always there and you'll stay faithful forever, and then goes away leaving you behind only to come back as though nothing happened. A kiss and everything is as good as knew. Don't do that to yourself, Rose. You may never choose me-but find someone to make you happy. People need a reason to be happy, remember?

A pang of hatred made the male shiver in sheer rage, at the mere thought of the sad gleam in the girl's eyes.

"Stop calling him a faker". It was unfair. A real crime-how lips as soft and addicting as that could cause so much pain in a sole second. All the things she'd said ran through his head in a flash. Happiness. Love. Care. Devotion. How could that woman be so blind? All of it was standing there-broken, right under her touch- and yet she didn't want it. How dared she try to reconcile him with the world! The world was nothing, like love was nothing.

But then again, he was nothing as well. No one would marry a weapon.

As for the weapon itself, it had been given the power to destroy the whole planet...but, funnily, not the one to say two words. Seemingly, it preferred to let a feeling -a stupid, damnable thing of no importance- devour its insides but the very shell. Leaving nothing behind- a powerless remnant.

And it hurt. It hurt like hell.

He scooped her in a pair of powerful arms, powerful enough to break her spine. But it was gentle and affectionate, in its own awkward way, one the owner wasn't programmed for. His lips, not quite knowing what they wanted -to smile again, to take a sip of her beauty, to touch what they can't have- brushed against hers. Palms having set on their own journey, fingers explored new territory. Heat. Sweat. Unintelligible, muffled cries. Skins close as ever, souls apart as ever. Confusion. I am not manipulating her, am I? It's just that I can't control it...But I am not like him. Am I?

To hell. Everything.

Sensations. The smell of her perfume that would stay on the sheets, on his shirt, in the room; the sound of two bodies as they wrestled in a desperate war of trial and retreat; the texture of the mattress, succumbing under their weight; the tingle on his neck as the female's spines were hanging above him; the taste of wine, mixed with the totally personal, unexplainable taste of each other; the stars out of the window, silent witnesses to a couple that insanely came together, without being meant to be.

Breaths came heavy, in perfect synch with their chaotical heartbeat. Fire and paper had consumed each other while mating; her head fell exhausted on his chest.

...But he didn't want her like this! The mind screamed they had it all wrong with every tick of the clock. Not that he wasn't at fault; hell no. And he had to admit that he enjoyed the whole thing, in a certain, poor, physical way. One he pitied the figure through the mirror about. Rose, the Rose that had changed his life back on the ARK -innocent, naive, loving and gentle like a warm morning- wouldn't have accepted to do...this. Faker! You are the Faker, not him! You took all of this beauty and paint it in the colors of your past!

You are pathetic, fake.

If you weren't...she could actually...love you.

Breaking the laws of their interaction, red gaze turned all the way from the moonlight showering two naked bodies tangled together, to meet the elusive, prohibited face.

"Amy?" -he felt the petite figure shiver in his arms, not used to listening her first name come from his mouth- "there's something I meant to ask you". He cursed the weak tone, the impersonal content, himself. That wasn't supposed to be the case. He had hoped for something better for the two of them...after the promise he'd made to her. Not a confession made in a cheap motel, somewhere the owners would forget about the couple that had stayed in 203 for a night, and their smell would wane from the sheets, like thousands before and after it.

"C'mon! Are you gonna tell me or what?"

His laugh was insane, desperate, mad. What to say and how? That she'd gotten in his heart? Ridiculous would that be, for the speaker had obviously a bad relationship with anything that had to do with organic matter. He didn't have one.

Why do you always leave the next morning? Is the faker treating you well? How did this all start? Why are you with me now? Does my taste stay to your lips forever as yours stays between mine? Do you think I am dangerous? Have you seen me cry? Do I look scary? Are you afraid that I substitute you with Maria?

"Do you love me?"