A soft melody was playing in the background. She would have focused on it and tried to memorise it if it wasn't for the fact that she was crying. The taste of her tears was a constant reminder of her pain. How dare he try and leave her.

She believed that she could hear his heartbeats, his breaths, and his teeth grinding. She leaned over him to let her tears wet his cheeks too. It was another way for them to connect for one last time. He didn't flinch, maybe because he welcomes her tears as much as he welcomes her laughter. He must be welcoming. He would speak if he didn't want to taste her tears with her. Surely he will.

“You always looked to me like the kind of person who I would love to share my tears with,” she whispered to him and tried to sense if anyone was near them and could hear what she was saying.

She couldn't sense anything other than how her hand felt on his cheek. She caressed it softly and tried to wipe her tears with her other hand, but they were more than what a single hand can wipe. The problems in her life were more than what she could handle on her own. Surely, he won’t leave her.

His silence must be out of love. He is afraid that he will choke on his words or that his cheeks will turn red.

“Remember when you told me that nothing can come between us? It came. You just don’t want to tell me that it did. You lied.” Her tears rushed, and the taste increased. She can no longer wipe them with one hand. Even if she used both of her hands or both of his, they wouldn't help. It was too late, wasn't it?

"Darling – can I call you darling? I can, I can. I surely can. Darling, your face is cold now, and your hands are still. Why don’t you want to hold my face or let me hold yours? It's too cold for my hands. Outside is too cold for me too. I’m afraid that if I followed you, you would slip out of my hands. Darling, you are cold. You are supposed to be the source of my warmth, so I depended on that. I never taught myself to force my body to embrace warmth from anyone who offers it other than you. It wouldn't have listened anyway.”

The words stuck in her throat as she looked at his face covered in her tears. His tears must have mixed with hers too. He must have started to cry when she didn’t notice. Yes, he must be crying with her. He must be staying.

Her caresses turned into gentle pressing. She watched how his cheek was squeezed into his face, and when she would lift her hand, his cheek would move back to its place. This is a sign of life, isn’t it? This is a sign of love. He will stay.

If he doesn't wipe her tears, no, no, their tears, then he must be staying. If he didn't move his face away to stop her from squeezing his cheek, then he must be staying.

But why doesn't he feel warm? If his silence and stillness are a sign of warmth, then why is his face cold?

“Darling, you are cold,” she whispered again and again. With each time, she would press her hand harder, but he still chose silence. Won't he stay?

He must stay. She leaned close to his face and pressed her lips softly to his. She wanted to feel his warmth even if she had to deceive herself and believe her warmth to be his. So she kissed him. Softly. He stayed still.

She moved back and looked at him with betrayal in her eyes, but he had his eyes closed to avoid looking at her. He doesn't want to see her hurt. This must be the case.

He wouldn't ignore her love if she tried kissing him once more, and she did. She tried again, and still, he didn't kiss her back. He didn't accept her love. Her warmth.

“Darling?” She raised her voice at him. This was the first time that she did this. He didn't respond; his warmth was gone, and surely he wasn't staying.

“Darling!” She kept yelling this word as she pressed her hand harder against his face. Nothing. No, no, he should be staying.

Arms wrapped around her body and tried to pull her back, but she wanted to stay. If he doesn't want to stay, she wants to. She pushed her nails into the sides of his neck as she held his collar tightly. He looked beautiful in this suit. She knew that he wouldn't take it off for the rest of time.

She wanted him to take it off. She wanted him to stay.

Her senses came back, and she could hear screams, cries, and people shouting her name. The screams were hers, the cries were shared by her, and she was shouting his name. Oh, how beautiful it is to hear their names joined together as she shouted his name and these people, these intruders, shouted her name.

The arms pulled harder, and she had to let go. No, she was forced to let go of him.

For the first time, she saw the whole of him and not just his face. Why did they put him in such a small box? Why is he sleeping there? Why doesn't he stay?

She screamed and kicked the air, trying to force the arms to let go of her. Maybe if she kissed him one more time, he would stay.

“Darling, you are cold!”

“Darling, you are cold!”

“Darling, I am cold,” she whispered as the arms carried her away.

“Darling…”

She could hear her heartbeats, her breaths, and her teeth grinding.