Fissure of the heart
By: Ani

POV: Third Person POV
Summary: fissure fis·sure n. A deep furrow, cleft, or slit.

She spends a large deal of her will power not to turn her head a little more to the left. Her eyes water a little as she concentrates on staring at her friend talking, though she is vividly aware of his presence just behind them. Along with hers. Her best friend's elbow connects with her ribs in a sharp jab, and she breaks her concentration to turn to her annoyed friend, slightly relieved, a little more confused.

A connection passes through them, one they'd learnt they shared back when they were younger. She hangs her head low and whispers a small "sorry". Her best friend nods infinitesimally and turns to the animated chatterings of their small group of friends. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before resurfacing and putting on the reassuring mask - a look, she's been told that similar to that of the Mona Lisa.

She laughs right on cue at the punch line of a story and excuses herself and stumbles out the partying hall to get some cool fresh air. She doesn't notice him turn his head and notice her leave. She doesn't notice that she doesn't leave the hall alone.

She blindly turns a corner and uses the rough brick walls for support as she proceeds to remove her damn heels, the ones she's forced herself to wear -- an expectation of the society that she lives in. Her ears hear a distinct crack of autumn leaves just behind her and she starts to lose her balance in surprise. Her mind races of danger and tries to get ahold of her balance quickly, scraping her hand against the harsh texture of brick.

He doesn't let her fall however and he catches her waist in time before she loses to gravity. She twists out of his grasp quickly, heel in her ready hand to use as a weapon. The air goes still between them and they stare at each other for a moment until his face cracks the instant with amusement and a small grin on his lips.

She lets out a shuddering breath, but uses the heel anyway finally seeing him. "Geez" she says smiling, as she thumps him with gentle force, relief flooding her veins, poundingly, "you scared me."

"Sorry," he says laugher rippling through his words. He grips her hand tight as she yanks her foot free of the other shoe. "Thanks" she says cringing slightly, as she removes her sore hand from his, clutching it to her chest. They find a wall and perch themselves on it.

'They must be quite the sight' she thinks, a dull pain sweeping through her. They continue to sit there just taking the night in until he turns to her and asks about her hand. She smiles her hostess's smile and she reassures him that she'll live. He lifts an eyebrow though and shows her the few specks of drying blood on his palm. She pulls her hand away from her throbbing chest and finally notices the scarlet liquid. "I guess not" she says flippantly, laughing softly.

He surprises her then, taking her hand in his and pouring clear-alcohol-smelling hell onto her hand and rubbing it. It sends a shock through her system and instinctively tries to tug her hand away, but loses to his tight grip. She feels hot pangs behind her eyes and stops fidgeting, remembering. Remembering. He finally wraps a handkerchief around her sore throbbing hand, envelopes in his for a moment to warm it and then lets it go when she pulls it back to her chest.

She remembers why she left the hall, why she tries hard and realizes why the tears are building up to burst out of her tear ducts. She can't-- can't hate her-- no matter how hard she tries. She finds it easier to hate herself. She doesn't realize she's sobbing until he awkwardly scoots closer to her to wrap an arm around her bare shoulders. "What's wrong?" he asks, mentally slapping himself when he hears himself.

"It hurts" she says, part wailing - part sobbing. "What does?" he asks concerned - concerned that he sounds stupid - concerned that he's hurt her hand even more. 'My heart,' she thinks pouring salt on the wound. His only answer is her head on his shoulder and an arm around his waist. He takes this - takes her and knows it isn't-wasn't him. He can only think, 'how' at that moment. How can he make this better?

Later, when she's all cried out, she defiantly sniffs one last time and lifts her head from his shoulder and looks at him grinning down at her. "Very lady-like. I'd give you my handkerchief but you've already got it." They smile at this, trying to forget the sad moment for a second. A booming voice drifts out of the hall, requesting all young single ladies to gather round the throwing of the bouquet.

"Yuck." She sighs, crinkling her nose and proceeds to put her heels back on. He suddenly finds 'the nose thing' endearing, and helps her down the wall.

They walk side by side towards the entrance, but she stumbles on a stray branch and he find himself wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her up and close to him. She doesn't notice the closeness, but he certainly does and she smiles up at him thankfully. She tries to move out of his grasp, but he moves forward with her, hand still on her waist. She notices then. "I'd rather not look like a killer, bringing in his dead victim into that hall," his mouth stumbles out. He feels cold sweat forming above his brow. She laughs and bows her head approving.

Her best friend notices, his hand low on her waist when they walk in. The redness of her eyes and the slight smile on her face. 'She looks like a wreck but maybe there's something there', her best friend thinks. She's sure he notices the picture the two make as the walk into the hall together. She makes sure her new husband knows which direction, rather - 'who', to throw her garter to.

_____________________________________________________________

HER

I think my heart is wrapped around
And tangled up in winding weeds

I try to keep myself moving, but I'm not going anywhere.

I think somebody's try'na to talk to me
But I can't hear a word they're sayin
All I can do is stare at you.

____________________________________________________________

HIM

Suddenly there's this girl
a voice inside my heart
that's got me wonderin'

Fin

Author's Note: There are some song lyrics in here at the end its a mixture of:
Hold me Close by Richard Fleeshman - Unfold by Marie Digby - Traffic by Marie Digby - Say it Again by Marie Digby

lala~ inspired by a twilight jacobella daydream. Not that I swing that way.