“I think you’re ridiculous for treating her as if breaking her heart would be detrimental for everybody involved.”

He looked up from his orange juice, seemingly both surprised and amused. The only rule they’ve ever had is to never speak any unnecessary words over breakfast when the weather is just right outside of the kitchen window. The sun was sweeping through their tousled hair, dedicating its decent to her chin resting in her careful palm.

“What do you need to say, Elizabeth?” His voice was soft.

She shook her head permissively. He went back to drinking his orange juice, back to staring out the window.

“Would you die for me?” The words seemed to have tumbled out of her mouth. Her eyes were staring resolutely at the glass positioned between his hands.

“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low, understanding that nothing about her that morning was unnecessary, “that question, which I am positive that you already know the answer to, better not, in any way, be related to the thoughts that I know you are having about her.”

“It’s not about her. Answer the question.”

“You know my answer, Elizabeth.” He kept pronouncing her name as if it was something fragile.

“I would die for you and because of that I’d assume that you would for me, but I know it doesn’t work like that.”

He was looking at her curiously. “It should work like that. It does work like that.”

“In what world?”

“Ours.”

Ours, like there wasn’t another apartment, another window in another kitchen.

“I want you to break her heart.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Stop saying my name like that.”

“Like what?”

She sighed. Steadied her hands in her lap. “Break her heart.”

“We have talked about this.”

“No, we haven’t. You’ve explained the situation, many times, almost as if it was for your own understanding. I do not understand. I’ve never understood.”

He rose from his chair, placed his glass in the sink. “Come back to bed with me.” His steps were like her shaking hands. She followed him, her hair still warm from the sun.

“Explain the situation to me one more time, please.”

It was his turn to sigh. “Elizabeth, I love you. We do not need to talk about the situation, because the situation is not important. I love you.”

“You would die for me?”

He finally decided to comply. “Yes, I would die for you. Come back to bed with me.”

“Then break her heart.”

“You told me the two weren’t related. Her, and how I love you.”

“And I’ll say it again. This is not about her.”

“Then what is it about?"

"Do you remember when we used to spend hours laying together in the grass in that little park?"

"I remember."

"One morning you told me that you wanted to devour me. Another, you said the world could finally stop shifting.” His voice had sounded like the way the grass felt against their bare skin. “I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to. I miss that.”

He sighed. She used to say that loving him was like trying to describe the exact weight and smell of honeysuckle in the spring air. "I miss that, too."

"Then why are we here, early in the morning, standing claustrophobic in this hallway? That’s what this is about."

“We can go to the park. We can spend the whole day there, if you want.”

She took one of his large, square beautiful hands into both of hers and rested her face on it. She sighed. Her bones felt like a broken windowpane. “You don’t understand,” she whispered into his palm.

“I don’t.”

“I need to leave.”

“Elizabeth….”

She let his hand drop to his side. “I need to leave,” she repeated.

“Please, Elizabeth… just come back to bed.”

“I need to go.”

“I’ll break her heart, Elizabeth. We can spend the rest of the morning in the park.”

“I’m already gone.”

“Elizabeth!”

The door shuddered straight through his ribcage.