I sighed discontentedly, eyeing the calendar as I made breakfast. Six months since you’d left, six months since you’d walked out and never looked back. And hadn’t said a word since. 



There’s always cracks, a crack of sunlight, a crack in the mirror on your lips. 


 The first morning I woke up next to your blackish mop of hair; my initial reaction was shock. Had we really stayed up that late? Or was it that we hadn’t and you just never went home that had caused this. I stared at your sleep softened face, a whisper of a smile gracing your relaxed features; a crack of sunlight dancing across your face. To me, at that moment nothing mattered, I was just lucky to be waking up next to you; squished onto the couch. Pizza boxes littered the small coffee table, a half finished bowl of popcorn, and a smattering of smarties. You were no longer just an option; the friend I called when things were bleak; you were everything.  You’d cracked your eyes open and looked at me blearily attempting to focus on the coffee mug I help out to you, with your still sleep laden eyes. 


“Mornin” you spoke softly, voice a bit rough from sleep then you smiled widely; reassurance washing over me. My own personal sun to chase away the rain.


It’s the fifth day of ice on a new tattoo, but the ice should be on our heads


Your fingers traced the outline of the tattoo on my arm, I trembled slightly at the ghostly touch. I glanced into your eyes questioning you in silence. You smiled, the answer evident in your whole demeanor, you loved it. The tattoo circled the top of my upper arm, a few inches below my shoulder; it was a design similar to those found all over you; the swirling brown lines marking that this could last. 


I felt hope flutter into my chest, something I’d thought had died long ago. So many things I thought had died long ago but they’d be birthed anew when you came along. I shifted under your gaze, turning to gaze out the window into the night eyes tracing patterns in the stars. 


“I…” you began, and then turned away as well, “it’s nice” you finished retracting your fingers away from the spiraling brown lines. 



We only spun the web to catch ourselves, so we weren’t left for dead


“You there?!” I had yelled up the stairs as I carried groceries into the kitchen, I was greeted with the groaning of the plumbing “figures you’d be taking a shower” I muttered as I put the cans and boxes away; turning the music up loud. After shutting the last cupboard I sighed; leaning against the cabinets the calendar caught my eye, it had been almost two years now. It felt like nothing. It seemed like no time had passed since we’d found each other scrabbling on the streets to get enough money to get high. We’d cleaned each other up; we’d had a challenge going. You with your mess of spiky brown hair and swirling tattoos; me the girl with the stubborn attitude and arrogant thoughts. 


I ran my fingers across the tattoo; cans forgotten. How we’d gotten this far I don’t know. Why did we become this. What brought us this close. I was happy with you. Happier than I’d been since; since then. Not as if I’d planned to wake up one day and fall for the guy who’d saved my life. Maybe I’d just grabbed onto you in the hopes that I wouldn’t fall, maybe I needed something to hold me up since I’d left the streets, after everything that had happened and all the fear I had been through. You bought me the piano I now sat at; you’d got me the job; you’d become everything. You’d walked down the stairs then, in your shorts that looked more like pyjamas than clothes, a towel over your messy hair. You’d sat at the piano next to me, your hair still dripping slightly. 


“Your getting the floor wet” I’d stated, looking at your wet hair in distaste. You looked at me for a moment and smirked. 



And though this journey’s over, I’d go back if you asked me to. 


I almost burnt my eggs mulling over the matter of you and then I fell into one of the chairs round the table. What was the point in worrying about it now, you were gone. As a matter of fact what was the point on anything. When you give so much of yourself to another there’s nothing left when they leave. I sighed, head in my hands, elbows propped on the table, I’d still go back. If I could I would still fix things with a kiss and rest my head on you chest to listen to your heartbeat; just one more time. If I could I would steal you; I loved you. 



I’m not dead, just floating. Right between the ink of your tattoo and the belly of the beast we turned into.


You murmured my name against my neck, our bodies still intertwined and tangled. I’d curled myself tighter into you attempting to meld us together, skin to skin, flesh to flesh. Your breathing started to even out, your eyes drifted shut as you nuzzled my hair. You’d always loved my hair. We’d grown so close, so inseparable in day to day life. You attempted to be around as much as you could, making up excuses to take of time to visit. 


“I love you,” I’d mumbled my own breathing evening out. 


You’d smiled against my neck and whispered “I love you too”


“Don’t ever leave” 


“Yanno I won’t” 



I’m not scared, just changing. Right beyond the cigarette and the devilish smile, you’re my crack of sunlight. 


“Hello?” I’d answered my cell, still lounging in the bathtub; the apple scented bubbles drifting around me. 


“Hey” you voice had come into my ear somewhat gritty and rough. Almost immediately my heart had begun to pound in my cheast and heat rose in my stomach. How did you have this effect on me, how did you manage to make me feel so good whilst barely saying anything. 


“You’re quite” you’d stated; ever the subtle one “what’s up?”  I sighed and closed my eyes, relaxing back. 


“Nothing, just miss you I guess.” 


“That’s why I called, just wanted you to be the first to know I’ll be there sometime tonight.” 


I breathed in quickly, not expecting that. “I’ll be waiting.” 


“You do that baby” then the phone clicked. 



You can do the math a thousand ways but you can’t erase the facts that others come and others go but you always come back. 


I found myself missing you before you had even left. I knew you’d be back in a few weeks, but the time in between our time together became unbearable. I knew what it meant to give your all to someone. I felt like part of me was missing every time I watched your retreating form, knowing I would have to wait to see you again. My eyes traveled across your as you stood in my room, ready to say goodbye. I traced those broad shoulders, the strong frame which you possessed. I knew I could make that frame shake if I tried. I let my eyes run over the stark black tattoos inhabiting much of your body, letting them linger until you had finished putting your shirt back on. I knew those lines; I could trace them like a map. Finally I let my eyes drift you your own. They were deep brown then, a soft sadness making the gorgeous and shocking at the same time, boring into my core. I knew that I could make those eyes fill with lust, fill with desire and need. Or that I could make them so loving my head would spin. 


“Goodbye” I murmured, as you nodded in response. We never took long to say goodbye. You never said much, nor did I. We knew we’d see each other again; and soon. 



I’m not dead just floating underneath the ink of my tattoo I’ve tried to hide my scars from you. 


I slammed my hands down into the table, knowing I wasn’t going to make it through breakfast and instead moved to the bathroom to take a shower. In the shower I scrubbed hard at my skin until it was an angry red. Trying to scrub away my scars and regrets, trying to scrub away my love. Why had I kept things from you, why hadn’t I just fixed things when they were still fixable. Instead I’d lied, trying to maintain a front that I just couldn’t succeed in holding until finally their bond had grown so heavy under the weight of deceit it snapped. We’d fought and argued, sparred out our differences and the tried to fix it. I’d  grown distant, stopped telling you simple things like that I loved you. Never sharing my worries about what would happen to me, my nightmares about what had happened to me, or the fact that I still had so many secrets. I had buried everything, and in that I hadn’t gained anything. I hadn’t attained peace if mind, I wasn’t able to move on with you and forget it all. All I had been able to do was lose to one thing I had always wanted to keep. Water streamed down my body as I thought, gradually turning cold. I shut of the stream and stepped out into the bathroom, dripping to stare at myself in the mirror. My hands traced the tattoo on my arm, so like when you had fist seen it. I met my own eyes in the mirror and saw the brokenness there, but under it the familiar determination. 


“I will make this right” 



I’m not scared at all. Underneath the cuts and bruises. 


I donned my clothes in record time. Stashing phone, keys and money into a bag and flew from our apartment. 



I stepped off the boat onto the island. I breathed in deeply once there, I’d missed this place. Despite the tragedy, the war, the harsh landscape this place had become home for a while. You weren’t at your studio, luckily it seemed that you were at home. Bending against the cold wind I started out, resolve and regret firm in my heart. 


He’d decided not to go into his studio that day, he didn’t have the heart for it. Some days were just harder than others. It had been a while since everything with her had occurred but the feelings still weighed him down and tossed him into chaos every now and then. His sleep filled with the dreams of her bright golden hair and softly spoken words, his waking hours haunted with memories that would assault him at random times. Sometimes he wondered what she was doing right then, or if she thought of him but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. Thinking like that didn’t do him any good, in fact thinking like that would just wind him up in more trouble. He was still laying in bed when he felt a tingling, just on the edge of his perception. 


“No” he murmured, rolling away from the large bay windows where he was sure he’d glimpsed those piercing grey eyes. 



I’m not dead, just floating. I’m not scared just changing. You’re my crack of sunlight. 


Before he could think of her much more she had walked through his bedroom door and firmly placed herself at the foot of his bed. He looked up into those oh so familiar grey eyes and say there what he hadn’t seen in such a long time. The old determination, stubbornness and arrogance. His heart began to pound in his chest, was it possible that things had changed? Or was she here to put him through another ring of hell.


She seemed to struggle for words, dropping her bag and wet coat she closed the distance between them. 


He gasped in surprise, the embrace he was in was almost crushing but the pain was such a wonderful reminder that this was real. He reacted pulling her down beside him so they were a comfortable pile of arms and legs and held onto her with all his might. Before he realized it there were tears streaming down his face and onto her neck, he couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. Despite everything, he just hadn’t cried. All of a sudden he felt like his heart was just going to burst. 


“Why are you here?” he asked, so quietly that she barely heard it. She tensed, but realized the only edge in his voice was one of pain. She pulled back far enough to look into his deep brown eyes, brown eyes which could see right through him. Eyes she wanted to stare into always, that she realized she wanted to know everything about her. 


“I love you. I came to make this right.” She stated instantly burying her face into his hair and breathing deeply. 


“I won’t ever keep any part of me from you, no matter how scared I am or how angry.”


He had waited, and hoped for this moment. He had prayed that she hadn’t moved on, he had stared listlessly for hours at the wall willing her to come to him, and now she was finally here. 


“I love you too” he choked. Uncapable of much more he simply twisted more of her soft jumper into his hands and cried silently against her chest. When had he grown this weak he thought, when had he grown this dependant on the vibrant girl in his arms. He looked back up into her eyes, now a warmer shade of grey and he remembered why he’d waited and hoped. Bathed in the morning sunlight they held each other tightly, pounding hearts and softened eyes communicating what words could never come close to saying. And hidden somewhere was the forgiveness she’d been hoping for. 


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