They spent most of the nights together, fitting perfectly into each other's forms. She would often drift to sleep before him, secure in their embrace, and he would spend the rest of the evening combing through her silken hair with his gentle fingers. When she tossed and turned and reposed to face him, still soundly asleep, he would behold her sleeping magnificence, spellbound by the sheer perfection of an individual. He would soon dim into the same state of rest and they would lie through until the morning, seeking comfort in the warmth of one another. They would awake in chorus after sunrise, one to the soft lips of another, often remaining together for the entirety of the morning - entwined in each other. They would rise in their sleepwear and wander to the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around hers as she sliced up fruit, occasionally picking up pieces and placing them in her mouth, laughing together as she attempted to speak with a mouthful. He had loved in the past, and so had she, but never quite like this. There was something about one another that was too general to specify exactly. It seemed all the little things they did that equated to a whirlwind of passion and love that fuelled them in all they did. They often visited a variety of restaurants for dinners and would end up getting drunk enough for the night to carry them away. At his own place, he would sit at his piano to draft and create beautiful songs and, out of boredom and loneliness, she would perch upon his lap and play curious chords to fit her spontaneous, yet peculiar, lyrics. They would laugh at her chimes and he would remind them both of how much he loved her; both her and himself. When the darkness began to fall, she often became upset. They would settle upon the edge of the bed and talk about all they ever knew. Their fingers were intertwined as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, as tears slipped down her defined cheeks. She would remind him of her appreciation that she found him and how he was the only one she desired and the only one she ever would. They talked about their future as if they had a clue. She would look him in the eyes and tell him with a newfound sincerity that she loved him deeper than the seas reach and beyond. He would put a hand to her face and gently stroke her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips locked onto each other as they shared the salted taste of her tears. They would visit supermarkets and shops and run around like young children, excited by everything. They would laugh at each other and cry with each other, flirting at any given opportunity.
They enjoyed sharing the simple pastime of Netflix. She'd recline on the sofa with her head propped on his lap. He would gently stroke her hair as they watched and she often reached up to stroke his stubble. They would reassure each other constantly that they were genuinely the perfect other half, and they believed it. They would go to fast food chains and make jokes as they ordered, trying to repress laughter.
They had to be cautious. They lived their lives on social media and one wrong post could lead to the exploitation of the intimacy they shared. They showed the common acts of comedy and, rightly, kept the rest behind camera. It gave them some control. She knew her followers enjoyed seeing them together and she began to do it more often for them, too.
However, this insight began to eat away at their affection. The nights of warm closure became those of videoed embarrassments and the mornings of laughter and love became those of individual good morning messages. It was through these imperfections that they discovered their main difference: children.
He wanted a family. He wanted children with her and a cosy household. She wanted intimacy. Just the two of them until the very end. They often argued. He knew she couldn't be forced to raise and birth children, but he also couldn't change his inner feelings. He had a way with children and he knew it - he couldn't so simply forget the whole idea. They began to argue more and more frequently, from every month to every week to every day.
One day, he left to go to the shops to purchase groceries. Upon his return, he could not find her. His mind flicked to worst case scenario as he frantically searched all the rooms before coming to the bathroom. He pulled down on the handle, but the door was locked. He sighed.
"Grace?", he asked, "Is everything okay?"
All was silent for a few seconds until he heard the relieving click of the lock. She slowly opened the door and stood face to face with him. Her mascara and eyeliner was smudged and had ran down her cheeks. He'd never seen her quite like this before.
"It's not working."
"What isn't?"
"Us."
His heart seemed to stop with time and he swallowed down his tears to look her in the eye.
"Grace, no... Please...you... We-"
"Chester. We want such different things and you know this will never work. One of us will always end up upset. I can't bear to ever upset you to achieve my own happiness. That's why-"
He pressed her up against the wall and they shared a passionate kiss for blessed seconds before she pushed him away.
Breathless, she whispered, "That's why we're done."
"Grace, please. You're being such a stranger to yourself - the truth is staring you right in the face and you can't see it. You love me, and I love you too and we are meant to be together-"
"This isn't about us. It's about you. I'm not hurting you."
"Well... I don't want kids. I don't want children - I'll stay with you. We don't need them to be together."
"But that's not really what you want. It doesn't matter what you say, this won't work. I'm sorry."
And with that, she began to gather his belongings. It took her around an hour. It was painful, but nothing of what was to come.
She placed them all in a bag. The whole time, he'd been sat on the sofa, crying. She placed the bag down beside him.
"You should go." She mumbled.
He kissed her on the forehead as he left.
All the other nights she'd lain alone, she knew it would be too soon before they were back together once more. Yet, now the bed seemed empty and the mattress cold. She felt empty without him and she began to have second thoughts... Had she made the best decision for them? She had to constantly tell herself that it was better for them both, but saying it didn't make her believe it any more. She rolled over to his side of the bed and buried her face back into his pillow, inhaling his cologne. As she breathed in, the scent of him faded evermore until it would eventually disappear until there was nothing left of him. Tears rushed to her eyes and she lay alone, weeping. For the first time, in seemingly forever, she cried herself to sleep. She woke up early and made her breakfast, sitting at the table alone. She switched on Netflix, but they'd watched all the films together. She broke down in tears on the sofa and cried until her eyes were sore and she threw up. She felt empty and incomplete. She needed him to be herself but she'd pushed him away. She'd gotten rid of the thing she needed most and she didn't know if they'd ever cross paths again. She rinsed out her mouth and wandered back to bed, her eyelids quickly sticking together with tears.
She eventually fell asleep and remained so until the later hours of the morning when she was suddenly awoken by a knock at the door.
She opened the door to see
Him.
He was smartly dressed in his best suit and held a bouquet of roses in one hand and a small box in the other.
She had never been more glad to see him. She smiled and wiped the remains of her tears from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like never before. They held each other as though they would never let go.
"Grace, I was dumb. You may hurt me by not wanting children, but that pain is nothing compared to last night. I can live without children if it means I can live with you.
I've realised how much you mean to me and-"
He got down on one knee,
"Grace Anne Helbig... Will you marry me?"
"Of course, idiot."
