A/N: I'm not sure what to make of this. Tell me what you think of the style, is it confusing?

This is a story about a messed up boy and a broken girl and how they never quite fit together. It's about how he spoke in short sentences

don't.

just leave.

bad mood.

or else long ones that never seemed to end, just continuing until his eyes sparkled and his point was long forgotten and all that was left was their flesh touching and her smile which looked like the stars and his voice which sounded like honey in the warm nighttime air.

go away.

But when he spoke, oh when he spoke! When words dangled from his lips casually like a cigar and she could almost picture him in a black and white film, wearing a striped shirt and a jauntily tilted hat- when he spoke it was magic. The real kind of magic, not wand waving and uttering silly words, the magic that reaches deep inside your chest and rearranges things so that they don't make any sense, or else they do, they make more sense than ever before. Sometimes both. She doesn't know how.

get out.

Sometimes she thinks she cannot breathe because his impatient sighs are stealing all the oxygen and she doesn't know how to escape from the gas that's poisoning her from the inside out. She wants to break free but that's words keep dangling and if he doesn't watch it, that cigar's going to start a fire.

Don't be like that.

i said leave.

I'm not going to leave you. Not even if you scream at me to get out.

i don't want you here.

I'm tired of fighting.

then go.

You don't mean that.

and what if i do? i don't want this anymore than you do, rosie, i want us to be like before but that's not going to happen, we're too different now, so you might as well accept that and get out.

I'm not going to leave you!

They spend the night in Paris, or else Rome. They see all the sights, but their minds muddle with wine and the music from the streets is enchanting and they find themselves lost. He grabs her waist and begins to waltz, right there in the middle of the road. She laughs and pulls away but he's much stronger and her bones are weak from being so tired for so long.

dance.

Fine, fine.

And she's laughing because it's so utterly, ridiculously perfect. The lights seem like stars, but much brighter and closer, and it's so hot because his eyes can see right through her skin to the nebulous bubblings of her young soul.

i meant what i said.

You love me?

yeah.

But things break and it starts to rain. She laughs again because, if she closes her eyes at least, this seems like a scene from a silly movie. He doesn't even smile. She wants him to lean in and kiss her but he's not moving and the water is starting to bead on her skin and she is starting to get cold. His hand feels too light on her waist, the phantom pressure not enough to remind her that she's anchored to this earth.

let's go.

Can't we just dance a little more?

no.

Don't you love me?

no.

They're not what they used to be, they've grown up and acquired scars and, at some point, realized that they couldn't fit together as easily anymore. And then, one day, not as easily became not at all and he couldn't stand her and she couldn't stand him not standing her and that was it.

just get out.

Don't worry, I'm already gone.

A/N: Drop me a review and let me know what you thought!