Just Ten Minutes | ✓

zero

before we ran out of time

She missed him.

It's been months, according to everyone else's standards she should be over him. But she's not. She still wants him, she craves his touch, because if he held her in his arms for a moment the world would go quiet. She'd be at peace because with him even at their worst moments it was better than when she was alone at her best.

Her feet betrayed her as they walked past this diner, their diner, the place where they first met. Her feet carried her past here every day hoping that she'd be able to pluck enough courage to go inside.

And today she did.

She sat in their booth and was transported back into their memories when life didn't seem so complicated and everything was still simple.

She remembered how he'd laughed at her, then she scowled and laughed with him. She remembered how he complimented her, she smiled and turned away denying his truth, and he reassured her.

Their own little dance.

She looked into his brown eyes, brown eyes that everyone constantly said were boring, but not his. His brown eyes were warm and inviting. Too inviting. She didn't realise that every time she looked into them she fell in love.

And that was what she promised herself, that she wasn't going to fall in love with him.

She usually never broke promises, to her they were something delicate and for them to be broken had to mean that the person she was breaking it for was worth more than a thousand stars.

And to her he was.

Because the thing about her love for him is that it was deeper than any ocean, fragments of him always seemed to linger in her mind lighting an eternal spark inside her. It was the type of spark that you only came across once in a lifetime but now when she burned for him, she burned alone.

Because she loved him too early, and he loved her way too late.

The smell of hot chocolate broke her out of her daze, and she stared down at the drink in front of her, the steam drifted upwards making visible patterns in the air.

She scrunched her eyebrows, she never ordered anything.

Then she looked up and she saw him. He was sat there, in front of her, it had been eight months and he was sat right here in front of her and she'd be lying if she hadn't dreamed of this moment since he left.

But she shouldn't want to see him, she shouldn't still long for his love because he was the reason she was hurting and yet a hug from him was the only way she'd be able to feel whole again.

What a twisted game life was playing.

She got up ready to leave but his hand caught hers, his touch burned her skin in the best way because it was everything she needed but it felt so distant now, how could he be so close to her and yet so far all at the same time.

"Stay,"

She didn't look at him, she couldn't.

"Please," he whispered out.

She sat back down and drew patterns on the table, and then finally looked at him and she felt her heart glow again, those brown eyes.

"What do you want?" She questioned as she watched the marshmallows melt in her drink.

You, his heart whispered.

"To talk,"

A breathless laugh escaped her mouth, "It's been eight months and you want to talk, now," he stared at her and watched as her hair fell in front of her face. His hand rose to push it back but he couldn't, it was no longer his place.

A plate of fries was placed in front of them and they both thanked the waiter before turning back to look at each other.

"I think we've spoken enough,"

"Sage please,"

She left her hair to fall in front of her face, she didn't want him to see how broken he'd left her. "I don't think I can," she murmured softly.

"Please I - ten minutes," he proposed, "give me ten minutes,"

Ten minutes, it took her ten minutes to get attached, it took him ten minutes to realise he was falling and now he wanted to ten minutes to try and fix what was broken.

But when you were sat with the person you loved time seemed like an illusion, a mere object that had been manipulated because when you were with the person you loved one minute seemed like forever.

And he just hoped that ten minutes was enough.

"Just ten minutes," she clarified.

"Just ten minutes." He repeated.