Storm.

The rain drizzled on the window pane as a storm roared outside. It was such a contrast to the warm room in which the two were seated. They sat on the floor, propping themselves against the bed. The young woman rested her head in the crook of his shoulder as he continued to exhale his soft narrative. She stared blankly out at the crème wall in front of her and listened intently, taking I ever word as though it was a beautiful dream.

“‘I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell—”

He paused and craned his neck down to look at the petite frame that hugged his own. He kissed the top of her head softly, causing her to move her gaze into his eyes. The sound of the whipping wind echoed, muffled, through the room.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”

He ran his cheek down her mahogany hair and pushed pieces of it behind her ear.

“I will think of you every day,” he said, kissing her temple.

“I’ll remember the shape of your face,” he said, running his lips down her cheek and kissing the corner of her mouth.

“I’ll keep your love with me wherever I go,” he said, moving his face to kiss her softly on the lips.

She closed her eyes and let a brief smile overtake her features. She stretched out on the floor and stared up at the textured ceiling.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled.

“I love you, too.”

He put the book aside and filled the spaces between their bodies. They intertwined, seemingly flawless. The scene seemed to disappear as they blended together. He kissed her neck and ran his hands through her hair.

“‘—and I'll die by your hand which I love so well.’”