A/N: I wrote this story for a prompt-based writing contest on . Below are the lyrics of my chosen prompt.

No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I'd rob them

Positively 4th Street - Bob Dylan

---

“Are you happy now?”

I can only look at your tear-stained face and hide my emotions behind a frozen mask. You think I look cold, I can see it in your eyes. You feel like I've betrayed you somehow; I can feel the bitterness in the air.

Why are you looking at me with those big brown eyes, accusing me with your earthy gaze? Once I saw happiness shine out of them, but now they burn with hatred. I can feel it scorch my soul. Another bloody scar to add to my collection. It only grows, and inside, I grow colder and colder, as if my soul were dying a quiet death. Or perhaps my heart.

Yes, my heart grows cold in my chest the longer that you look at me with those eyes. How can you treat me like this? Don't I love you? Didn't you once love me?

You turn away from me, your hair whipping over your shoulder. Disheveled as it is, I still find it beautiful. I still find you beautiful. You will never cease to be beautiful to me.

“Why don't you say something?”

Your voice is filled with pain. But isn't mine greater? Don't I feel worse for the heartbreaks you embrace?

I wish I could spare you this pain. I wish you loved me still so that this would never have happened. But you don't, and I can no longer remember why you don't love me anymore.

“Well?”

I close my eyes, shake my head. I have nothing to say to you. Nothing that you want to hear. I cannot find the words to express my sorrow. Inside me, it's like ice, and I want the frozen tears to leak from my eyes. I want to find some way to show you that I still care.

But I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I show you anything, you'll see how much I still love you, and how much it hurts me to watch you go.

I want you to kiss me again. I want to hold you in my arms once more.

But even that is lost to me now. If I touch you, I'll lose control and start to sob, and I know how much crying women disturb you.

You whirl around, your eyes smoldering with a hatred so deep I cannot understand how there's room for it in your body. Your nostrils are flared and the freckles across the bridge of your nose are livid against the paleness of your skin.

I never did understand that about you. Most people turn red when they're angry. Their skin flushes. Yours seems to pale as your freckles darken and eyes flash. Your anger is strong enough that I can smell it on your skin, in the air we breathe.

“Say something!” You scream it into my face. I can feel the heat of your skin, smell the familiar mint of your gum on your breath because you're so close. It's been too long since we were this close to each other.

My hands ache to caress your skin.

“Say something to me! Why don't you talk!”

I see your hand begin to move out of the corner of my eye and I know what is coming. But still, I sit absolutely still and refuse to take my eyes off of you. It is as if my eyes are hungry for your beauty, your familiar form.

The sting of your slap is nothing compared to the sharp sound that our flesh makes as you mark me. I can feel the sound down to my marrow, and something about this strikes me as sad. That you can hate me enough to hit me, when I know you have never raised a hand against anyone before.

My eyes fill with tears. A reaction to the pain, I tell myself. But that is a lie.

I turn my face away, frightened and ashamed of the silent tears that begin to streak down my russet colored cheeks. It hurts me that you would do such a thing.

“Tell me you hate me, that you're happy he broke my heart,” you command me. But I cannot, not even when you beg me with your hoarse voice.

I shake my head. I cannot. I will not. You mean too much.

Your fingers touch my cheek, brush across the wetness of my tears.

“Are you...crying?” you ask of me in a strangled voice.

I shake my head too hard, flinging tears from my cheeks.

“Oh, God, you are.” You draw your warm hand away from my cold face and I miss the warmth. I look back to you, my vision blurred. But I can still make out the hurt look on your face, but underneath that, I see horror.

I do not think you meant to strike me. But you did. And I forgive you. Because I love you. I will always love you, because no other can ever rival your affections. No man, woman, or beast. I will never give up my love for you, but if I must, I will give up you.

I wish I was a thief, a burglar of emotion, so that I could steal away the heartbreaks that are sure to come in the future. This was only the first of many, my love. And this I could not protect you from, because you no longer love me.

“Are you happy, love?” you ask.

I shake my head as tears streak down my face.

It seems our roles have been reversed.

“I love you,” I whisper. “I'll always love you.”

“I wish we could be together,” you whisper back as your arms slide around my neck.

“I wish I could steal away the heartbreaks that are coming.”

“I wish we could love each other freely,” I whisper into your rich red hair.

Our last kiss is in the twilight of the day. And as they come for us to tear us apart, our fingers still strain towards each other.

“I love you,” we mouth together. “Forever.”