Titanium

Part 13-Lena

Disclaimer: I do not own the delirium world or any of the characters.

Lena:

I breathe in Alex's scent as he pulls me close to his side. Neither of us speak, but the silence isn't awkward. We don't need to be talking to feel each other's presence; to feel comforted. 

We reach Alex's trailer and I move to pull the door open, but before I can Alex grabs me lightly by the waist and pulls me towards me, pressing his lips to mine. 

For a moment I forget everything and I'll I can think is Alex. Alex and his golden hair. His way of always seeing through me and reading my mind. How he loves me quietly, but constantly, and is always thinking of new ways to show it. Even when everything happened and I thought we were done, he loved me. Always. 

He pulls away from the kiss long enough to pull me through the door into his trailer. The poetry still lines the shelves and my heart immediately flutters, bringing me back to that memory all that time ago. 

"Read me something," I whisper against his ear. 

He smiles and nods before going to the shelves and picking a work of poetry. He comes and sits next to me, kissing me on the cheek before beginning. 

"somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

touching skilfully, mysteriously her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the colour of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

I do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands."

As he breaths out the last words, my heart lifts. I lift my lips to meet his once more and again everything but him floods put of my mind. Everything but him and that poem. "Who wrote that?" I whisper. 

"E.E Cummings." He answers before pulling back slightly and looking me in the eyes. 

"I need to ask you something," he says, suddenly seeming serious. I know where this is going, I need to talk to him too. "When did you know? When did you know you didn't love him?"

A/N: Hey! What do you think so far? please leave feedback and vote!