Ne Me Quitte Pas

The rain beating on the windows made no difference to the dry feeling in the air, the staleness and emptiness that crept along its path into Tiffany’s heart. The sun could have been shining and it would not have warmed her to her bones, icy from the words that moved like a blizzard’s wind.

Words like love, pain, tears, break, agony, passion, devotion, despair, love, love, love. Always love, thrown into every space, pushed and prodded into places it was not going of its own accord.

Her sight became locked on the lips that spurred the storm; they moved with the body they belonged to, away from her, back and forth, momentarily blocked by hands that swept over them to dry the strained out tears. Idly, she wondered how long this would go on for. Her heart was tired and no longer felt like moving.

“I’m so hurt.”

The phrase had been said before, and would be said again, with its own hope that time would grant it meaning again.

“Why do we keep going on like this, Tiffany?”

Reasons had shown themselves briefly before sinking away, behind some haze that made it hard to focus, difficult to see through again. There was a reason they kept going, and there was a reason feeling fell away with each step.

The storm stopped. With an exhalation of human breath, the tension was no longer prodding at her, and the dry air slackened and fell.

“You can’t even say anything anymore,” a resigned voice noted, quietly, emotionlessly. Stating a fact.

“Look at me.” The whisper arrived.

Tiffany noticed, absently, her gaze was on the window, watching the rain drops run along the transparent glass. The air had lifted with the whisper of simple words.

“Look at me.”

Fingers that were cold at their tips brushed against her chin, taking a gentle hold to guide her sight. She met the eyes that traced her face; saw the twisting spark of inconstant desperation, the continuously fluctuating presence of those feelings.

The kiss had some warmth. It gave a tingle to her lips, not unlike pins and needles from trying to move something that had been still for far too long.

“Let’s just forget the past. Start again,” Taeyeon said.

Her gaze was soft, but empty. It was a rote response. Forget, again, forget.

“I will give you everything,” Taeyeon whispered, her lips moving to brush along Tiffany’s cheek as her fingers stayed on her chin. “I will do anything for you. Until after my death, I will show you the world that is yours by my love.”

Her other hand traced the line of Tiffany’s jaw, the touch sending a thrill through Tiffany’s body similar to the reaction to a speedily fluttering moth nearby.

“There is always hope.” Taeyeon’s hand stroked her hair so softly she barely felt it. “It’s never too late.”

The kiss happened again, harder, pressing the tingle to her lips. The pins and needles rippled until they faded, and she was left with nothing.

“I shouldn’t ask why,” said Taeyeon. “It always ruins everything.”

Tiffany’s arms moved mechanically; she didn’t realise that she wanted to spread her hands over Taeyeon’s shoulder blades and push her closer until the action had been automated. The lips met hers again, lacking the tingling of feeling, but the kiss moved and shifted and stirred in search of fire in the darkness.

Her fingers clawed down Taeyeon’s back, tightening. She gripped the cotton fabric and tried to grab onto what she used to find in the person before her.

“This has happened before,” Taeyeon muttered. “But it didn’t last. You understand that, right? Just because it seems hopeless doesn’t mean we won’t recover again.”

The salt of Taeyeon’s tears gave flavour to her lips, and the shakiness of her breathing gave trembles to the kiss. They kept kissing, touching, pressing against each other, for those glimpses of sparks, the haphazard feelings that they found and lost and found again with their movements.

It frustrated Tiffany now and again, deep down where clarity played games with her. There was something there, in her heart, where Taeyeon used to be stapled. It flickered, and disappeared and reappeared, and she could never be sure what it was. She thought she knew love.

The rain continued its beat on the window, trying to make something out of a mystery, falling from the sky to reach the earth without reason.

“Don’t leave me.”

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