She was in the middle of eating dinner - nothing fancy, just something she had put together in a hurry.
He sat quietly by her side, looked at the traces of the bruise by her eye and took her hand in his own. She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and turned to look at him. He didn't let go of her fingers and stared into her brown eyes. She set down the spoon and turned around to face him, not letting go of his fingers.
With his other hand, he tucked the free strands of her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. She didn't flinch but stared right back at him.
"Do you think this is a good idea?" she asked.
Without a word, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. To his surprise, she grasped his curls and kissed him back.
The days passed in kisses and entangled sheets. She clutched him and he clutched back at her, no room for languid lovemaking. There was always a sense of urgency about the way they wanted each other; the feeling didn't even recede faintly. If they could have spent the day just with each other they would have but jobs called, life called, growing up called, responsibilities called. But as soon as they were done with their space and time, their worlds didn't just reunite, they crashed into each other, fuming and heavy each and every day. Love had more than a tinge of madness when it came to them.
Everyone knew they would be with each other no matter what.
They fought of course, but each longed to hold the other again even as they quarreled and so ever so sneakily, one would just touch the other in the middle of an argument and the fight would pause for a few seconds. In those brief seconds when time stood still, they would just stare at each other silently and the next thing you know, they were making love right where they stood - she clutching at him, he clutching at her with an urgency no one could fathom.
One day after five years in the world outside and what seemed like a five hours since they had met each other ( it didn't even seem like yesterday that she had met him! ), the fight got out of hand. Each had their unspoken limits and that day, the boundary was crossed. Engrossed in trying to be right and win the argument, she screamed and scratched at his face out of frustration. It was like his brain fizzled out in a flash, disabling rationale - he hit her back. The weight of five years suddenly came crushing down upon them in five seconds as they both plunged into black bottomless water and they stood still looking at each other in disbelief. He saw her hold back her tears as she turned around and picked up her things and blasted her way out of the house. He stood there in shock for sometime and then sat down. It was over, he knew she would never even reply to a text from him after this. She spiraled into her own space and her own time, he zoned out into his.
After a few days, still wallowing in the ostensible futility of the efforts he was about to put in, he made his way over to her house, not even expecting the door to be opened. He rang the doorbell and stood there for a long time as she wrestled over her decision to open the door for him. After what seemed like an eternity, she opened the door, turned around and made her way back to the kitchen. He closed the door behind him, put down the pink gerberas he had gotten for her on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen.
She was in the middle of eating dinner - nothing fancy, just something she had put together in a hurry.
He sat quietly by her side, looked at the traces of the bruise by her eye and took her hand in his own. She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and turned to look at him. He didn't let go of her fingers and stared into her brown eyes. She set down the spoon and turned around to face him, not letting go of his fingers.
With his other hand, he tucked the free strands of her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. She didn't flinch but stared right back at him.
"Do you think this is a good idea?" she asked.
Without a word, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. To his surprise, she grasped his curls and kissed him back.
He sat quietly by her side, looked at the traces of the bruise by her eye and took her hand in his own. She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and turned to look at him. He didn't let go of her fingers and stared into her brown eyes. She set down the spoon and turned around to face him, not letting go of his fingers.
With his other hand, he tucked the free strands of her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. She didn't flinch but stared right back at him.
"Do you think this is a good idea?" she asked.
Without a word, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. To his surprise, she grasped his curls and kissed him back.
The days passed in kisses and entangled sheets. She clutched him and he clutched back at her, no room for languid lovemaking. There was always a sense of urgency about the way they wanted each other; the feeling didn't even recede faintly. If they could have spent the day just with each other they would have but jobs called, life called, growing up called, responsibilities called. But as soon as they were done with their space and time, their worlds didn't just reunite, they crashed into each other, fuming and heavy each and every day. Love had more than a tinge of madness when it came to them.
Everyone knew they would be with each other no matter what.
They fought of course, but each longed to hold the other again even as they quarreled and so ever so sneakily, one would just touch the other in the middle of an argument and the fight would pause for a few seconds. In those brief seconds when time stood still, they would just stare at each other silently and the next thing you know, they were making love right where they stood - she clutching at him, he clutching at her with an urgency no one could fathom.
One day after five years in the world outside and what seemed like a five hours since they had met each other ( it didn't even seem like yesterday that she had met him! ), the fight got out of hand. Each had their unspoken limits and that day, the boundary was crossed. Engrossed in trying to be right and win the argument, she screamed and scratched at his face out of frustration. It was like his brain fizzled out in a flash, disabling rationale - he hit her back. The weight of five years suddenly came crushing down upon them in five seconds as they both plunged into black bottomless water and they stood still looking at each other in disbelief. He saw her hold back her tears as she turned around and picked up her things and blasted her way out of the house. He stood there in shock for sometime and then sat down. It was over, he knew she would never even reply to a text from him after this. She spiraled into her own space and her own time, he zoned out into his.
After a few days, still wallowing in the ostensible futility of the efforts he was about to put in, he made his way over to her house, not even expecting the door to be opened. He rang the doorbell and stood there for a long time as she wrestled over her decision to open the door for him. After what seemed like an eternity, she opened the door, turned around and made her way back to the kitchen. He closed the door behind him, put down the pink gerberas he had gotten for her on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen.
She was in the middle of eating dinner - nothing fancy, just something she had put together in a hurry.
He sat quietly by her side, looked at the traces of the bruise by her eye and took her hand in his own. She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and turned to look at him. He didn't let go of her fingers and stared into her brown eyes. She set down the spoon and turned around to face him, not letting go of his fingers.
With his other hand, he tucked the free strands of her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. She didn't flinch but stared right back at him.
"Do you think this is a good idea?" she asked.
Without a word, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. To his surprise, she grasped his curls and kissed him back.
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