Motough Prompts

She's A Pregnant Runaway

Author's Note: Here's another prompt :) Motough ft. Markney Enjoy! Vote, comment :)
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The tears that collected along her sclera were unforgiving, unapologetic, like a raging fire - orange flames falling, caressing her skin, with each and every broken breath.

Her hand let go of his, so quick, as though his very touch scorched her, turned her flesh a charcoal grey.

"Just please Derek, let me go."

"Beth, you know I can't do that."

He reached once again for her, though was met only by the unpardonable, bitterness of the stormy weather, and the shrug of her shoulder, frozen cold.

"You can and you will."

She turned, placing a hand on her growing belly, and sighed. "I'm done."

Derek spun her around, forcing eye contact with the touch of his hand under her chin. "You can't be done. Come on Bethers, stop acting like this."

Bethany tore her elbow from his grip, wind causing her hair to stick promptly to her cheeks, tear-stained and wrinkled with ripples of anguish.

"I can't do this anymore, and I really, truly mean it."
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The slap of rain water against the window acted, this time, as a distractor and not a soothing sleep agent.

It woke her up, causing her to bolt upright and become alert; there, in the warmth of their bedroom with a satin duvet covering her body, she could hear a harsher knock - one that wasn't the naturalistic pitter patters of rain drops.

She turned her head to look at him, he who still slept calmly, not fitful, like her. One arm had fallen, during such sleep, over the side of the bed, and the other was wrapped snugly around her stomach.

"Mark," she whispered, "babe, there's someone at the door."

"Wit," he murmured in reply, tightening his grip around her as she moved to get up.

"Stay with me. It's probably just the rain. Besides, at one in the morning, who would it be?"

Witney sighed, leaning over to kiss him. "I don't know but I swear-"

Interrupting her, another couple knocks sounded, reaching his ears, this time, also. "Witney, are you expecting someone? Maybe Jake from State Farm?"

She chortled, somewhat unattractively, and blushed at her sudden repulsiveness.

"What? No," she playfully smacked his chest, "idiot, just let me get up."

Mark grabbed her hand, standing along with her. "Let me go first."

Witney rolled her eyes, slinking past him. "Oh I don't think that's such a good idea, babe. Jake from State Farm might be six foot five with hulk-like muscles. He'd kick your ass."

She giggled as Mark laughed, picking her up from behind.

"Right. Let's go baby-girl."

"Mark Ballas! You put me down this very instant...jerk!"

"Not a chance, Carson," he replied, amused.

Opening the door, her on his hip, he marveled in the way those giggles expelled from her lips - making a noise that resembled, to him, a man, her midnight sounds: hoarse and screechy, but somehow beautiful.

"Bethany?" Witney gasped, her laughter stopping altogether. "What..."

"I had to leave."
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