I won't go anywhere

"What about me?" Ishmael mumbles, hushed, the sclera in his moist orbs scarlet.

He gazes down his feet, he swallows a sob from reverbing out his mouth. It was overwhelming, his emotions weigh so heavy in his chest.

He doesn't want her to hate him. She's all who's there for him. He shudders at the thought of the other man standing by his Neva; loving her, being loved, splitting sorrow, sharing joy, creating a haven.

At the end, it's him, him alone against the broken bridge.

Her eyes softens, his head lowered, fist clenched on either side of him—appearing to hold back a wail.

"Ishmael, look at me..." She conveys, he seems so feeble and lonely, his pain tugging her heart harsh.

He forcefully brought her here, she should run away from this mayhem of a man, she should have wished for him to dissapear.

But, she cannot neglect the ache in her foolish little heart.

He peers up at her, stunned by her mellow voice.

"Come here." She does not realise the scene she is creating. The swaying of her words comforting.

Her instincts leads her as Ishmael hastens forwards, towards her. She embraces him tenderly, and an inderscribable warmth flows through his lifeless throbbing heart.

How is he so fortunate? He can't convince himself. 

'If this is a dream, I pray I never arise again.'

Drawing in his lids, he shrinks himself in her.

His lips quivering, he tightens his enormous, muscled arms around her—squeezing her to him.

He buries himself further in her neck. Water drops, one after another, then he cries a rain, he sobs like a baby—out pouring in her loving embrace, all his aching grief.

In the absence of words, his tears of loneliness and wound of those ages, those ages of his only one not being by his side, echoes round the frosty night—engulfing Neva as she veils her eyes, soothing him she caresses and rubs his back.

He lightens his chest with all the ponderous burden of fighting alone in this vicious world.

Resulting him to be a tragedy himself. Creating a virulent of his life.

He hardens his hold on her, afraid, uncertain if she mysteriously fades. Fearing she may just be a mirage in a misty fog as he forages for a shelter. Stumbling upon a haze, he mistakes as a smoke rising out a roof.

"I won't go anywhere." Neva unconsciously whispers. Ishmael chokes out, his breathing ragged, hurting him.

"Shh~ Take deep breaths. Inhale and exhale..." She murmers slowly—rubbing his back softly, comfortingly.

He calms down gently, quietly she retracts herself from him. She caresses his face, drying his cheeks with her palms.

Like she always used to do to him.

He gazes at her so deep, his flushed swollen face having her smile a little.

"Are you fine now?" She tilts her head, this man hurling a riddle, puzzling her.

A sudden thought spirals in her, causing her pupils to contract.

She purses her lips, scrutinizing the foreign man infront of her.

"Y-you won't leave me anymore?" He asks in a small voice.

Neva doesn't say anything, nervous with her previous actions.

"Neva?" His lips trembles, his body weary.

"We'll talk tomorrow okay? Rest for now." She presents him a reassuring smile, he peers at her, praying to cease the time.

His heart bubbling up with something more than love for her. He's not able to fight the urge as he bundles her up in his arms.

Every fall, every wound, each tears, each moment, he didn't give up, and he's finally given back his safe haven, his only heaven.

Her pupils contracts. Neva hesitantly enfolds him, her heart pricked by something great unusual. Her being all of a sudden deprived of sensation, the familiarity emerging from the warmth of Ishmael.