A Story Like a Song I've Heard Before

The Greatest Risk

Song: Place de la République

Artist, Year:  Coeur de Pirate, 2011

One-shot story originally posted to FictionPress under my pen name MistyRose14 in June 2012, edited slightly for stylistic and grammatical improvements.

The Greatest Risk

A night that made me truly sad...

The rain never stops pelting against the window tonight. I feel like it will never stop, tapping against the glass in an endless rhythm that resonates within my head. Ambient light from the street lamps outside this apartment filters in through the thin fabric of the shades draped delicately over the window, the faint glow painting the room in a sickly yellow glow. On any other night, I would find it a charming advantage of city life, some sort of artistic effect. But not tonight.

We are on opposite sides of the bed. The edge, to be correct, with our backs turned to each other. The tangled mess of sheets below us, the dull quality of our appearances, our hollow silence... I feel us clearly bearing the wounds of our emotional battle. Fighting on and on, losing that spark with each attack, I know it's only a matter of time. Nothing lasts forever, I can't expect this to be the exception. I keep saying that to myself, but why can't I truly accept that?

"What do we do now?" His voice hung in the air, all too weak to my ears. It was a foreign sensation to me, I couldn't tell how I was supposed to respond.

"I don't know...Félix," I whispered back, still unable to prevent myself from feeling such a deep attachment to him, regardless of our current situation. What was wrong with me? I could tell the end was near, but how could I bear to force myself continuously closer and closer to him? I knew I was prolonging this pain, but I couldn't stop. I was powerless.

Félix let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing the side of his neck with his hand. "How are we supposed to keep doing this? How is it worth the effort?"

I shot a glance over my shoulder at him. "How is it worth the effort?" My echo of his question reverberated throughout the dimly lit room. "I can't believe you, Félix." I could taste the bitterness of my words on my lips as I spoke. It was such a contrast to how the taste of love used to be so sweet.

"We can't do this much longer," he reminded me in a defeated tone, starting to stand up. "We can't pretend the relationship we had as kids exists anymore. It's over."

"As kids?" I exclaimed, jumping up from my side. His words provoked me even more than usual, firing me up to defend myself, to defend our past. "We were in high school, barely kids, if that's what you think."

"It doesn't matter."

I stood in stunned silence, feeling as if a stranger were in place of my Félix. There was nothing I could do against him, he had decided to surrender and remove himself from this war. What could I do to stop him? If he didn't love me, nothing could be done. Yet I couldn't bring myself to believe that he didn't, I felt something deep within myself yelling that he still felt the same love I did.

"I'll pack my things and leave tonight. You can keep the place."

Tears plummeted to the wooden floor, matching the rhythm of the rain outside. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, but only felt more enraged. Unable to contain myself, I ran across the room after him as he turned to leave, tackling him back down onto the bed and beating my fists on either side of the mattress. As angry as I was, I still couldn't hurt him. I couldn't bear to cause him any more pain. He could do whatever he wanted to me, but I would not be the one to hurt the person I loved most.