The room is dark except for the bright light coming from the open refrigerator. It's a warm night, the kind of warm that leaves a permanent layer of stickiness on your skin. She's leaning against the open fridge door, sighing in relief as the cool air grazes her heated body. She's also naked, just-fucked wetness still between her legs. All she can hear is the rumbling of the machine, and soft footsteps coming down the hall.
He steps into the kitchen; a pack of cigarettes on one hand, white dented lighter on the other. He huffs a laugh at the sight of her, baby hairs sticking to her forehead, eyes closed and a blissed-out expression on her face. Only a few minutes earlier, she'd been under him, whining the prettiest little moans as he fucked her into their mattress, he can still see the remnants of the tear streaks on her cheeks. And yet, it's this moment that he finds most intimate. And she's so beautiful.
She knows he's in the room, her eyes slowly peeling open as she peers at the man leaning against the kitchen counter. Their eyes meet, and in one look, they exchange a million words; promises and confessions of their love for each other, of their loyalty.
Lighting up a cigarette, he takes a heavy drag and tips it towards her. An offering. Her smile widens, and she closes the refrigerator door and glides toward him across the cold ceramic floor. She goes to grab the burning cigarette, but he holds it away. A soft almost non-existent grin blooms on his face as he shakes his head and takes another drag, head tilting towards her until their bruised lips are a centimeter apart. The nicotine-filled smoke travels from his lips, through the eternity that is their love story, and into hers.
The exchange ends with a kiss. Slow and intimate, nothing like the bruising kisses they shared earlier that night. As they pull apart, their foreheads meet. And in that moment they know, everything is going to be alright.