“She spoke and dreamt in love, and he dreamt in death and loss.”
There was nothing in the world that could break the barrier between them. No words, crass or eloquent, no actions, bold or refined.
No word or touch of love.
Could anything find him in the wasteland? Or would he only hate himself more, knowing she endured it to find him.
No, her word or touch of love only jarred him. With the idea something could be outside of this. That idle hope, that pipe dream that he could escape this. No, no. Any love for him would drag her into this. Any love would bring her down.
And he knew, too, that she had a wasteland of her own. A place he had no strength to enter. And he would never ask her to find him in his when he could not endure hers.
“And if we survive this desolation, perhaps our journeys will bring us along the same path.” She said in a whisper.
“When I am no longer chaos and your love no longer poison to my heart.” He pulled her close for a moment and closed his eyes before both of them let go.