our broken hearts

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"A broken heart is the worst. It's like having broken ribs. Nobody can see it but the pain is unbearable and it hurts every time you breathe." (Unknown.)

♡

"HI AGAIN," Vincent Montgomery said in a monotone voice to Sylvia when he opened the red door and sat on his usual (and uncomfortable) chair. Really, he should consider bringing my own chair, simply for his bottom's sake.

Yet again, for about the third time, in three time I'd seen her, she ignored him. He was getting used to it, but he knew that one day or another, he would get the last word. More like, she would have the second word, because for now, he got the first, the last, and every single word in their conversations.

Today, she was wearing a simple fair grey long-sleeved shirt and dark grey jeans. She had the same black shoes on, and her hair was braided. In retrospective, she always wore her hair in two braids. The book in her hands looked like it was Virginia Woolf's Night And Day, but he couldn't be certain. Vincent just took his own book since he didn't forget to take something to entertain him this time.

"I could lie and say I'm surprised to see you here, Vincent," Salvatore blankly announced when he opened his door and looked at the dark haired boy sitting in his waiting room.

"I could lie and say I don't see any white in your hair. But I guess we both understood that honesty works better."

He just chuckled a little, shook his head, and told his first patient they'll start now. Vincent watched Sylvia follow the man in the other room without a word or a look for him. "How are you feeling today?" Salvatore asked her.

"The usual," she replied in her soft voice. She always spoke very low, and very softly, Vincent thought. Everything about her was like that: low and soft. It was the opposite of his sister, who did everything loudly and violently. It went exactly with her character: just a ghost of a voice, barely heard, and completely forgotten the minute –nay, the second later.

Vincent could hear Salvatore sigh this time at her answer before the door completely closed and stopped any other sound from escaping. He rolled my eyes, wondering why those walls were even so thick: he couldn't listen to them now!

Although that was probably the point, Vincent couldn't help but feel irritated. He decided to continue reading, and to ignore Sylvia, and every though of her, just the way she did with him. It couldn't by any hard.

He had read two chapters already, when his ring-tone broke the silence. It made him frown, he usually didn't forget to put his phone on silence. But then again, he was mediocre with anything related to technology. Lucy wasn't done mocking him for that time he tried to use the remote control for his maths, thinking it was an odd kind of calculator.

Vincent never answered the phone, but when he saw the caller's ID, he still accepted it, putting his phone against his ear, under some locks of hair.

Lucy's voice was clear, as well as cold when she spoke: "I don't know when, I don't know why, but I do know that you ate the chocolate chip cookies I put on the table yesterday. And I know that you'll pay for that bloody murder, no pun intended."

Vincent raised his eyebrows when she was done, knowing better than to mutter a useless 'Of course.' "How was I supposed to know they were yours?"

She seemed to be trying to control her breathing, and failing abominably. "'Cause there was a bloody note on them? Pretty sure it said 'DO NOT EAT THEM IF YOU LIKE YOUR LIFE. LUCY' Did you somehow happen to miss it?"

"Apparently I did," Vincent admitted, having no memory of a note. But he wasn't going to question her now, when she had zero self control, and a hundred violent reflexes. "But I love you," he added, hoping to soften her a little. He never really said to anyone he loved them, Lucy was an exception, and she still didn't hear it very often. "May I live?"