Lover's Burn

His mouth was dry. His palms were sweaty. His eyes reflected the fact that he was a complete and utter mess. Breathing in deeply, he willed himself to be able to find a strength inside that he was unaware of up until now. The odds weren't playing in his favor.

She looked him over carefully, a sting of tears distant in her cerulean tinted orbs. She sighed but not heavily enough for him to notice. Her arms had crossed then uncrossed several times, discomfort looming. She was as much a ball of nerves as he was.

They needed words. They needed an exchange, or maybe they needed nothing at all.

"Christ, I'm sorry," he thought to himself when he should've verbalized his regret. He should've proved himself. He should've done something, anything, but all he could do was move his gaze from the floor beneath him to her uncertain eyes.

She took a step forward, and he did the same.

He reached to touch her cheek, the gentle of all touches possible, but she took that same step back. His touch would weaken her, and she didn't want to be robbed of the stability she was fighting so hard for. She didn't want to fall into the cyclical game that they so often played.

"But I love you," he offered genuinely. His tone almost had a sense of pleading, and at the completion of his declaration, a tear slipped away from her.

And she turned quickly, a fast paced step away from him, out the nearby door. She was in love. She had trusted too many times. She had fallen to his eyes. She had fallen to his words, to his heart, and she couldn't take it any longer. She couldn't breathe any longer.

She didn't want to fall apart again. She didn't want everything to be taken from her again. She didn't want to have to share his heart and his body...again. She wanted commitment. She wanted the purest of truth.

And she was broken.