Not for Love

"Remember the first time I asked your name and you said something else instead? I loved it, that you didn't claim to like me. But now, I feel you suffocate me. Every time I hear your name, my heart beats faster because it sounds like a burden. I wish I never knew you. I wish I could turn the hands of time back to that time I saw you sitting alone, I would have let you be." She looks at the city from the roof they sit. He never complained about them until this evening. She didn't make the mistake of looking in his face. Peering through the lights, she says, "why now, why are you saying things like this all of a sudden?" She looks in his eyes, the face of the person she fell in love with the first time he walked up to her.
He was trying hard to keep the emotions, but she had looked in his eyes, and couldn't help it. The tears silently run down her cheeks. She was always happy knowing he was there to listen and would always respond to her. He once made a promise to her that he would always give her his attention, but didn't know he was unhappy. He watches as the tears run down her beautiful face and her eyes pierce through his soul, "sorry..." he raises his right hand to wipe the trailing tears from her face, but she stops him, moving her face away. Her dark hair falls to her right side, she moves it to her left, leaving her pale face unhindered to his sight.
"I've watched this scene play in my head 24 times before now. I can't let it continue..." He retrieves his hand, puts it between his thighs and removes his gaze from her. He was looking at the city of lights, but couldn't see anything. His next choice of words would dictate his future. "The truth is, you are a distraction, my impediment. When we are, there is no room for thinking, it's vain dreams I get, and no chance for progress in my craft. We have no future together... We never had."
There's been signs of the rain, now it poured, it poured with a rhythm, strolling down her face, it added tears; she was really crying. It's obvious he let the tears stream down, but it doesn't matter, after this moment, it would be all over. He would walk out the door unhinged. She did nothing wrong, she was perfect, but he can't go on. That the emotions were too real that he could see no future in it, was his fear. The next day when he wakes, he would stare at the ceiling for an hour without thinking, then he would get up and begin what he loves most, write.
Its getting cold. He reluctantly gets up to leave. "Don't leave me! I love you, always have. Will you stay now?" His back facing her, "That's the problem, love, love is irrelevant to someone like me, a luxury i do not have to share... I'm sorry." He takes two steps forward but misses the third. "well, I can't stay here all by myself..." her voice had become shrill trailing off as the rain drizzles silently. Her eyes closes and she falls back. He stands there, hearing nothing, then he looks back. She lays on her back unconscious.
She opens her eyes to her most familiar place, her room. Perfectly tucked in her sheets. He just left, the sign of where he sat with his wet clothes showed on the floor.
She has done nothing wrong, the problem is dead boy. He sold his soul for something, something beyond reality's plane, beyond Shakespeare's words, beyond what you think, and above your innermost desire. Not for love...