prompt: love wasn't intended to hurt.

She flinched, cringing away from the slap of his words. They were harsh, and painful, but he had no other way to communicate himself. He knew no way to tell her how much it hurt, that she could talk to others about things, and not him. How was he to know how to get her to talk about herself, when he couldn't do the same? Things had gone on this way for far too long, and with each passing day, they grew further and further apart.

No!, he wanted to scream. Please don't leave me!

He loved her so much.. He just wanted things to be like the beginning, when everything shined, when no problem was to big, no hurdle to large. How long has it been, he wondered, since we just sat and talked? Really talked, about us, without losing our tempers? How long, has it been that he had told her he loved her, and said it not out of habit, but because he truly meant it?

How can he fix this? How can he get his feelings across? He swallowed hard, staring at her shaking shoulders, feeling the heavy weight of guilt and regret.

He opened his mouth, to speak, to let it all out, to say anything to help her understand.

Only to hear her voice, low and clogged with tears, saying everything he wanted to, but with a different outcome.

Listening to her speak with growing horror, knowing where she was driving her words, feeling her resolve to leave grow with every sentence, he reached forward and grabbed her hand, gently, like it was a butterfly in his palm.

She faltered in her words, closing her mouth, looking at him with confusion in her tear streaked face.

"Please." He whispered quietly in anguish." Tell me its not too late to fix this."

She stared at his hand for a long moment, then looked into his eyes, her face unreadable. She slowly tugged her hand out of his, and he closed his eyes, a hot burn building up behind his lids.

There was a hitch in her voice when she spoke next, her voice filled with surprise and hope.

"It's not too late."