None of them needed to express why they were here using distorted rhetoric, honey-coated lips, or any of the complex words they learned to attain their degrees.
One word was enough.
Regrets.
He arrived there first, shoving his hands in his pockets. If anyone asked, he would blame it on the cold. "Just trying to 'em warm." Honestly, it was to do something with them. He didn't want to clench them in regret or let them hang loosely by his side as if he had truly let go of it all. Us, her, them.
It was still as beautiful, just like her.
Everything about it was beautiful.
Everything about her was beautiful.
It was solid and robust, relying only on itself and its fixtures. The windows were like eyes, providing an outsider a glance into the beauty that was within.
She arrived second at six o'clock on the dot. Her arms were wrapped around herself. If anyone asked, she would blame it on the cold. "Just trying to keep warm, you know? Honestly, it was to brace herself for this moment here. Staring at the man she loved? Loves? It was enough to knock any woman off her feet.
"You came." He said, keeping his eyes forward. She was like a frightened kitten; any sudden movements on his part would make her flee. That's the last thing he wanted. It's been far too long, anyway.
To her, his voice was void of emotion. Of course, he didn't care. Why should she think differently? She licked her lips, forgetting she had applied a fresh coat of lipstick seconds ago. Being around him did this to her; it made her an idiot.
Staring at the house was hard; it enticed them with what could have been and what should have been. Yet, this time around, looking at him evoked sadness instead of joy. She felt anxious instead of enthusiastic. She wanted to look away from it rather than stare at it all day.
He was trying to keep his voice from betraying just how much it meant to him that she was there by his side. It's how it should've been... how it was supposed to be.
"I said I would. I always keep my promises." And she did. But him? He had the greatest record of making them but not keeping them.
"You do," he agreed. "I've always admired that about you.
She always admired his ability to make everything seem better. She never told him that. There was no point in telling him now, so she didn't.
"A family lives here now." She said, changing the subject. "A mom and a dad," One happy couple. "Two daughters." One big happy family.
"I know." He said. What he truly wanted to say was, "That should've been us." He knew she would call it wishful thinking. "This home could make any family happy."
"It's not the place, it's the people." She sighed. He was always missing the big picture. "Any family could be happy anywhere as long as they're" with the people they love... people who matter."
"You're right." He said.
She didn't think he truly believed that. He would say anything to avoid an altercation, a fight, an argument, or any situation causing discomfort or eliciting raised voices.
He opened his mouth, trying to find words to say, not just any words but the right ones. The right words always eluded him. With her, the right words were as crucial as sanitation in a hospital. "It seems like forever ago."
"Hmm," she said. "It seems like yesterday to me." Maybe because she was the one receiving the blunt force of their relationship. The lies, the cheating, the scandals. It burned freshly in her mind and heart.
He wondered if she would always continue to play the role of the victim. Maybe she forgot about the claw marks along his arms or the jag marks where glass pierced his skin.
But he didn't.
He couldn't, not when they stared at him every day in the mirror-like beady eyes. They taunted him. They reminded him. And those were the scars that could be seen with the human eye. The others, the worse ones, could only be felt with the heart. His heart.
"Enough of these pleasantries." She groaned, desperately wanting to look elsewhere besides the home, symbolizing the future they had and lost. It was physically and emotionally draining to keep up these pretenses.
"After you." He sighed.
"Always a gentleman." Except when it counted.
When they finally turned to face each other instead of the alluring house before them, they noticed one thing immediately.
Like a scoop of vanilla ice cream dripping with chocolate syrup, their loving eyes dripped with imaginary drops of regret.