Magnet.

She stood there watching him, as angry as a storm but as fragile as glass. He hunkered over his work table, fists clenching the sides until his knuckles turned white. He was silent, as always; his breathing slow, deep, hollow. The wind howled outside, the door rattled: it was cold, even for spring. She was frozen, paralyzed with concern.

His work was strewn across the table, sawdust dusting his clothes. Bandages patched up his scarred, torn hands: it had been another long day, she knew that -- but even in his normal silence, this silence was piercing. Heavy. As if his simple, peaceful mind was troubled with gray clouds and snarling lightning.

She stepped forward, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched and shrugged away, his gaze snapping to her from over his shoulder. His gaze was troubled, angered, annoyed, as if her fingers touched a raw wound, but they hadn't. It was meant to be a comforting touch: why did he act like it burned? She withdrew her hand, hurt. His gaze lingered away from her, and he straightened his posture with a blunt sigh.

"What's wrong?"

He didn't answer.

Why was he acting like this? He started cleaning up his work table, dusting off the saw dust, organizing his tools. The shop was a messy place anyway, but as always, he organized and found order within the chaos. This went on for a while, in silence, as always. She leaned in the open doorway, hugging herself to keep warm. Her eyes watched him; guarded, cautious, swift. As if cleaning up and organizing was plucking away the thorns of frustration in his side. But why couldn't she? Why couldn't talking to her remedy him? Why couldn't her comforting touch and open heart calm his nerves, his frustrations?

She pressed her lips together, remaining quiet. But as she watched him in the workshop this cold spring night, the scene morphed into something more -- a car on a road on a beautiful, warm summer day; green grass and spring scenery flying by, open blue sky above. He and she sat together in the car, laughing, talking, reveling in youth.

He snuck a side glance towards her, she caught his eyes; they were happy, peaceful, content. In love. She laughed, "What's that look for?" she asked, smirking.

"Oh, it's .. nothing," he brushed off with a breathy laugh. He always did this! She scoffed and folded her arms. Though frustrated, it was in a playful way. She remained smiling.

"Seriously, what? Come on!" She continued to whine, poke, prod, bother.

He laughed and then sighed looking back over at her. "You're just... really beautiful." As he said this, his eyes were lit with the sun, and their beauty and warmth mocked nature's blue summer sky. His hair was whipping around his face from the open window, his smile soft and sweet. And she fell in love all over again.

A blush crept across her face and warmed her cheeks, but her smile never faded. She simply leaned in and pressed her lips sweetly to his cheek, and with a laugh pulled back and they continued driving, hands entwined with the sun smiling down on them.

Like a crash, her mind and soul returned to her body. It was cold again, night. Th

eir hands were not entwined, he was not looking at her with warm blue eyes, but instead, his eyes were dark, hardened as ice. He was bitter and silent still, finishing up and turning off the light.

With a sigh he passed by her and only muttered. "Don't worry about it. Let's just go do something else."

Even so, he kept walking, as if she weren't truly there. As if he didn't want to wait for her, as if he was okay if she never followed him. As if he was okay if she turned the other way, into her car and drove away, never to see him again. As if when she were gone, his universe would go on.

And even so, as the magnetism between them were so great, she followed. Pulled in and drawn into his gravity, wondering if she may never escape.

"... let me recklessly love you, even if I bleed... you're worth all of me."