one

he stepped into the room.

two

she shouldn't have been there. he had left her. abandoned her. she was gone. she took his breath away.

three

she smiled at him.

four, five, six

he couldn't breathe. his chest tightened. his throat tightened. his jaw refused to do anything but hang open, useless. a million things ran through his mind and not a single one made sense. everything hurt and everything was okay and he just wanted to touch her.

seven

he drew in a ragged breath.

eight

"john," she whispered.

nine, ten, eleven, twelve

he closed his eyes. salty tears burned behind the lids, building at the edges as though they planned a mass exodus. he didn't deserve this. he didn't deserve her. she should be yelling, screaming, punching, raving. there should be stone cold silence. an empty abyss between. a hollow pain in her voice that dug all the way to the core. she should have spat in his face. she should have slapped him. she should have -

thirteen, fourteen

she touched him. her hands impossibly warm, pressed against his skin, sinking into him. thumbs brushed over his cheekbones as though she were committing the expanse to memory. as though he were a lifeline. something to hold onto. something she had held onto. the one thing that had kept her sane when he was the only reason she was on the brink in the first place.

fifteen

"john," she whispered.

sixteen, seventeen, eighteen

he opened his eyes and found that she was right there. she shared the air between them. every exhale was her inhale and the other was the only reason they could breathe. it moved between them, through them, around them. it held them up. it held them together. it held.

nineteen

"'lizabeth." his voice was dry and broken. cracked along the edges. burnt and raw and sandpaper. pain and desperation and the hope that could destroy him if she walked away.

twenty

she understood. just like she always did. her bottom lip trembled and her body shook and he reached up to hold her hands to him. if she let go now, there would be nothing left to bury.

twenty-one, twenty-two

she was soft. warm. strong. even as she swayed in the wind, she was his foundation, everlasting, triumphant. nothing could touch him while she held him. his shoulders slumped as something inside of him let go and he leaned forward, his forehead against hers -

twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five

she sighed into him, against him, because of him. her eyes slid shut and she turned her head, just enough so that their skin slid against each other, the feeling jolting through them both. her fingers tightened around his own, her nails trailing down his face, the sensation weakening his knees.

twenty-six

"john."

twenty-seven

he swallowed, painful, relieving. it burned, but no more than the words scratching out of his chest.

twenty-eight

"you're here."

twenty-nine

her forehead slid along the side of his face as she molded herself into him, letting him encompass her, her safety net with newly-patched holes.

thirty

"i'm home."