If he just closed his eyes, and wished hard enough, everything would change, back to the way it had been before. That is what Sam Guthrie tried to tell himself as he sat on her bed, holding her teddy bear, staring at nothing and everything all at once.
But he knew, deep in his heart, that it would never be the same. The woman he loved, his heart, his soul, his angel…was gone. She had left during the night, sneaking out, disappearing into the shadows.
He had never seen it coming. He had just assumed that they would always go on the way they had, happy and in love. He had never thought that she would leave him, leave without a trace.
"Why?" He asked the emptiness of her room. "Why did you go?"
The room held no answer for him. There was no note, no diary, nothing to tell him what he had done so wrong. Nothing to tell him why his angel had flown from his arms.
He rose to his feet in slow jerky motions, all his former grace and agility gone. Almost all traces of the man he had been was gone, washed from him by the strain of the past three weeks.
Three weeks, his mind repeated numbly. Three weeks since she had gone, three weeks since he had lost the will to do anything. He could not sleep, because he woke up screaming her name. He could not eat, because the will to keep himself alive was gone.
He did not bath; he did not talk. His face was harsh and prickly from the stubble he could not make himself shave off. His eyes were hollowed and red, haunted by the images his sleep deprived mind danced in front of him.
He could see her, standing just outside of his reach, her sweet, sweet smile shining on him. If he could just reach his arms out, could just touch her warm, supple flesh…
Then the image of his heart's desire was gone, replaced by the harsh reality. She…was gone, gone into the night like a shadow.
How he wished he could hate her for what she had done to him! How he wished he could hate her, shake off the crushing weight of his broken heart.
His heart…his damn heart was the cause of the agonized depression he had fallen into. If his heart would stop loving her, he could move on. If his heart would stop reminding him that she was gone, he could put her behind him.
If his heart would stop beating, he could be free.
Free of the shackles that held him, free of the void that filled his chest, filled his thoughts. Free of the memories of the one he held above his own happiness…his own life. Free of the passion that coursed through his veins, seeking the warmth of the one he needed. Free of the pain that pierced his soul like the truest of blades. Free…free of the damned love that destroyed him, again and again.
He turned in a slow circle; his eyes seeking anything that could give him comfort, anything that could set him on the path of his lost love. Nothing was to be found.
Her clothes were gone, leaving her closet empty and barren. Her chest of draws was empty as well, all the drawers opened as though she had checked it again for anything she might have left. Her pictures, her many pictures, were gone, leaving the room as devoid of life.
The only thing she had left, the only thing he still had of her, was the teddy bear that he held in his arms. He didn't now why she had left it. But he clung to it, his only link to the woman who held his heart in her slim, strong hands.
He remembered her hands. He remembered the way they had stoked his body, his face. He remembered the way he had held them in his own, the way he had kissed her strong fingers. He could still feel her ghost hands, sliding down his body, running through his hair.
He could still see the blazing blue eyes as they stared into his, burning with a hunger that matched his own. The way her mouth had seized his own, the way she had pulled him down, down into her. He closed his eyes, still feeling the sensations of what it had been like to be joined with her, joined to her body, heart, and soul.
His eyes once more clouded with pain, her image once more appearing before him like a ghost. He could still hear her pants and moans, still feel her small, skilled hands caressing him. She was still there, in his bed, her blue eyes boring into his own as they reached for something more then what they had. They had reached it.
The flood of emotions overwhelmed him, forcing his eyes closed, shutting off the painful image of the one he loved. Hot tears pored down his face, burning a trail down his cheeks.
He reached up a shaking hand to wipe the tears away. But more poured down his face to take the place of the ones that had been brushed away. Soon he was sobbing loudly, crossing his arms across his chest, and holding himself as he cried and cried.
Sam lay down on Tabitha's bed, still hugging the teddy bear she had left behind to his chest. Moonlight poured through the window, no longer the beautiful silver it had been when she had been in his arms. No, until she returned to his arms, the moonlight would be blue.