Husk

It was his tenth wedding anniversary and it was being celebrated outside at night. The wind lifted the chatter high in to the air.

Arthur could feel eyes resting on him and he hated the prickles that kept tingling the back of his neck.

Trying to ignore them, he looked up and absorbed the expanse of stars scattered all around the dark sky, forming constellations but ultimately twinkling on their own.

He returned his gaze to the party guests, not seeing any of their faces. He wondered if he should be acting happier. Maybe they thought he was just being his unchanged, serious self, he didn't know and he didn't care. He wasn't capable of caring anymore as his heart had slowly collapsed in on itself over the years.

He looked at his wife, hating her for not leaving him. She was undeserving of such a loveless marriage and yet she stayed.

Over the years, more and more frequently, she would look at him as if she knew that his heart lie elsewhere but she never confronted him. Not once.

After they had exchanged their vows, he had never said to her 'I love you'. It had always been, 'You know I love you?' just to make sure his act was convincing her.

Sex with her was just sex. Blunt, fast, frantic and hard with detachment. Towards the end, his eyes would glass over and he became lost in the thoughts of the man he truly loved.

Everyday for the last ten years, he had seen that man's anguished face, heard his voice begging him to not to marry her. It tortured him. He couldn't ever forget it. He would feel sick with it.

For the first couple years he managed to keep the farce of being a loving husband whilst trying to keep track of his movements but it was no good. The man was a magician and could make himself disappear perfectly.

In his forth year of his marriage, he had misheard on the grapevine that he was dead and for seven days and nights, Arthur had choked himself on hot chilli peppers and blasted screaming music in to his ears just so he could feel something other than undiluted grief.

When the fifth rolled around, a new obsession kicked in. He went in search of finding the man he loved in other men. He used work as an excuse and she never blinked, always accepting it.

He could name every man he had been with in secret. He knew each and every way how they were and weren't like him.

Liam had his mischievous smile but his eyes were the shape of almonds.

Max had similar eyebrows but not his nose.

Timothy wore lounge lizard clothing but couldn't carry off a suit.

Greg had a flair for Jungian archetypes but couldn't go near nuts without turning red.

Nathaniel loved east Africa but hated the mountains.

Laurence's lips had a similar fullness but his teeth were far too perfect.

Rupert had his creativity but was devoid of charm.

Theo had a similar accent but didn't have his turn off phrase.

Charlie had his arms but they weren't decorated with scars and inkings.

Daniel almost had his scent. God, how he would torment himself by pressing his nose into Daniel's neck and inhaling deeply, trying to capture the smell and store it forever in his nostrils.

And there were countless more peppered throughout the years.

The only thing he had never come across were his eyes. He had sought them out endlessly to begin with but he never found the unique blend of dark blue and slate grey with tiny flecks of lilac in anyone else.

They belonged only to him.

He stopped this mania half way through his eighth year of marriage because he knew he could never fully get him back and this thought had gutted him out completely.

Finally, he was truly dead.

Arthur began to see him all the time after that. Never in his dreams but always in reality. It wasn't like seeing his face in an imperfect stranger but he was actually there, always in the same clothes with the same smile. Although he knew that it could never be him, for a long dizzy moments, he believed that if he reached out to stroke his cheek, he would feel its coarseness under his fingertips.

And there he was now, rooted only metres in front of him, people passing between them. A manifestation of his endless feelings of guilt and regret.

Arthur looked away, hoping to remove him from his sight but he glanced back immediately. Like water trickling down his spine, he realised how different his hallucination was.

The hair was streaked with silver. Deep wrinkles were set on his golden face that was smattered with a slight beard. He was dressed in a sombre suit he had never seen before. His lips were kept together with no hint of a smile.

And those eyes, those unique beautiful eyes that stared back at him were clouded over, a storm of pain and agony rolling around them.

Eames.

Arthur took a step forward, feeling his dead heart warm and life prick up inside for the first time in years.

Eames shook his head ever so gently and Arthur was unable to move.

More people passed in front of them, oblivious of their connecting eyes.

He watched Eames softly curl his right hand into a fist and then tenderly bring his fist to his lips. He saw Eames release the air in his lungs and close his eyes. Slowly and delicately, he crushed his soft lips on to side of his index finger, holding his lips there as if he was trying to press his entire heart into that finger. He opened his eyes gently, the blue finding the brown immediately. He broke his fist away from his mouth and tilted it towards Arthur as if he was casting off the kiss in to the wind.

A warm breeze breathed against Arthur's lips. He took a sharp gasp of air and life ached in his chest. It hurt him so much, it was like a ball of sunshine had become lodged inside. His heart was throbbing and pulsating as the sensation of life that burned brighter than white and scorched through his blood, dazzling each of his organs. It filled it him up so much that he couldn't see anything but Eames and the light.

He wanted to move, he wanted to shout out and as he opened his mouth, Eames turned away and the light began to fade.

Eames was gone, swallowed up by the darkness. Arthur felt life seep out of him and he slowly returned to his dead, hollow self.

That was cheery.

I was watching The Virgin Queen last night and there was a really beautiful moment where Robbie blew a kiss to Elizabeth like that /\ and at 1 A.M, it seemed like the most tender thing I had ever seen in my life and so that's where this started and I was feeling a bit poetic :). So I uploaded it and changed my mind thinking it was crap and so on and so forth but I reuploaded again because thats the point of writing, to experiment and play so, it's back up.

Thank you for reading. Hope you are having a really lovely day xx

Disclaimer: I own zip