𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄

SPIRAL

I'm wasted, losing time

I'm a foolish, fragile spine

I want all that is not mine

I want him but we're not right

Daughter, "Smother"

━━━━━━━━

She was the one who was supposed to keep it together.

But no matter how hard Diana tried, she couldn't stop crying.

This was wrong. All of it was wrong.

Everything should have been calm and bittersweet. They were supposed to be enjoying themselves at the toast with the rest of the crew. And afterward, they could have gone and grabbed a bite to eat at the small little diner up the street she'd come to love, or maybe even have one last crazy go at Studio 54.

She had wanted to end it all—production, their stay in New York, and whatever they'd started in October—with a bang.

This was a bang, but not the kind she'd intended.

Beside herself, Diana held him close, her face buried into the crook of his neck. Wisps of thick snow had begun to swirl around them. The tips of her fingers pricked from the cold and with each speckle of icy snow, her stockings grew stiff and damp. Uncomfortable, but given the situation, it was more than bearable.

She trembled, but it wasn't from the cold. She trembled because the world was practically shifting underneath her feet.

There was an emotional collapse unfolding right before her eyes, threatening to consume someone she had claimed to love, to want nothing but the best for. She had allowed this to happen. What type of person did that make her?

"Baby, baby," she crooned to him weakly, "I need you to calm down. I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

He was trying as hard as he could. He would straighten his face, flatten his lip, unfurrow his brow, but within seconds, his mouth would tighten and his eyes would grow narrow and glossy all over again.

Diana pulled away, wiping her damp eyes with the back of her hand. She steeled herself, hoping it would be enough to stave off yet another wave of uncontrollable tears.

"Listen to me, Michael." She cupped his face in her hands. "Listen to my voice."

In spite of the cold, his face was warm and flushed. She knew he could hear her, but his sobs were so overpowering that he could barely utter a word.

"You have to talk to me, Michael," she breathed, her heart splintering into hollow pieces second by second. "That's the only way we're going to solve this. You've gotta talk to me."

He struggled, words clinging to his throat like glue.

"I don't want... I don't want to leave this all behind," he wept.

"You're not—" she grappled with the thumping in her chest "—you're not leaving anything behind, baby. What's happening here is just a change, a—"

"I'm leaving you behind," he choked out, "Someone I actually care about. Someone that I actually want."

"Baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here with you. Every step of the way." Diana placed a shaky hand on his back.

"Not in the way I want." He shook his head. "Not this way."

And then he kissed her, catching her off guard.