Prompt: [Character A] keeps being lied to over and over again by [Character B] but she still fights for him because she believes he's different.

A/N: I'm so sorry I'm so late, Lonelywriter17. I'm not very active on this account and completely forgot. I hope you still enjoy this. Since you didn't specify character genders or the type of story, I took the liberty to do what I felt was most fitting for this. Thank you so much for the request by the way!

Liar Liar, Heart on Fire

On a snowing winter's eve,

their love shined through the biting cold.

Kindling the loved burning between them,

their hearts were set on fire.

It was perfect,

it happened all in the blink of an eye.

But perfect was only an illusion,

and speed tended to leave everything blurred.

She was a dream,

but he barely slept.

She loved like no tomorrow,

but he never looked past the present.

She was a shelter, an inviting fireplace,

but he wasn't looking for warmth.

He needed now,

there was no time for sleep.

He wanted her,

like he wanted every other "her".

And all he ever did was build his mountain of lies,

and run behind it whenever he needed to.

She knew.

She knew the lies that poisoned their love.

She knew.

She knew that his "love" was only desire.

She knew.

She knew that one day she would wake up to an empty bed.

Only when her heart had shattered into too many pieces to pick back up had she given up,

And only then did he realise how he loved sleep, how he loved tomorrow, how he loved warmth.

How he loved her.

Oh, how she ran back.

She tried again.

He lied again.

They drifted apart.

They ran back.

On and on and on it went.

Some days the house was filled with cries and shouts.

Some days the house was bursting with laughter and life.

Some days, silence cloaked the house.

The dull ache in her chest became bearable over time.

He didn't have to worry; he always had a home to return.

Until one day, the pain was unbearable.

Surely, even the pain of death was better than their suffocating love.

She was meant to be a dream, but she was living in a nightmare.

She was meant to love like no tomorrow, but she could barely survive today.

She was meant to be a warm fireplace, but the chill of loneliness had swallowed her.

And so, she realised, that the pain of death was so much more merciful.

At last, peace took her.

There was no more dream or tomorrow or warmth left for him.

And so, sorrow took him.

The toxic lies had started the fire, but her belief in him had stoked the flames.

Their tale of love, ignited on a wintry night, had ended in a tragedy,

And so, it went down in history as only a twisted tale of sorrow and venom.

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