She Brings Life, and He Takes it Away.

It was raining again.
She stared down at her shoes, her reflection rippling in the puddles beneath her.
Her coat was drawn tightly around her, even though the air was thick with humidity. She felt dizzy, like she was swimming through the heavy atomosphere. She felt suffocated, disoriented, unnatatched, like a wall was being pushed down on her and smothering her lungs.
Bells tolled behind her, singing in a deep, lonely bass that vibrated through her, rumbling deep in her bones. She tried to walk faster, her stilletoes clicking frantically on the concrete. The hem of her black dress was damp, and the rain smoothed down her chocolate-colored tresses until they were sleek and straight. They obscured her face, her skin as pale as a porcelain doll, and she looked just as breakable.
She shied away from the tall skyscrapers, who's windows stared at her wordlessly, vacant and empty. The wide boulevard was silent, unpopulated by cars. The air smelled fresh, like wet pavement, and the rain beat gently on all surfaces like fingers drumming on a windowpane.

It was never a habit of hers to visit funerals, and she didn't know why she attended this one.

She came to a halt when the church bells stopped at twelve chimes.
She was standing in front of a bench flanked by two tall stone vases, shining black in the rain. The plants inside were withered, dead and brown, their leaves curled and wrinkled, like the way a man curls in times of tradgedy.
He was sitting in repose in the exact center of the bench, his arms slung lazily over the back of the seat. He was untouched by the rain. Though he looked to be as young as twenty years, his hair was snowy white. It was slightly shaggy and unruly, and it was completely dry. His skin was pale, glowing white in the gray gloom. His dark eyes laughed at her from beneath his bangs, and his marble lips twisted into a cheshire-cat smile.
"Funny seeing you here," he purred. She could imagine him with a tail like a cat, flicking the tip like a tiger about to strike its prey. His voice was silky smooth, rolling fluidly from his tongue. She hated herself for it, but she clung loyally to every honey-drizzled syllable he uttered.
Casually, he brushed some nonexistant dust from his pitch-black suit, straightening his tie. "I didn't know you liked funerals," He commented, flicking a tendril of hair from his eyes.
It was then that she noticed the cemetary behind him. The fence was made from cast iron, twisting like black vines, the points like teeth stained dark with the blood of the innocent. The field intself was devoid of life, dead leaves plastered to the grass. The gate yawned like welcoming jaws.
"I don't," she said, pulling herself away from the graveyard. He chuckled. The sound sent shivers of apprehension scurrying down her spine. He didn't notice her discomfort.
"You know," he drawled. "This isn't a good place for you." He gestured to the clearing behind him.
There was a stone angel perched on a pedestal in the middle of the cemetary, marking the grave of someone who was rich enough to afford such a grand headstone. The angel's face was upturned, wings fanned out behind it's robe-clad body. Moisture trailed down its worn cheeks like tears.
"I know." She said firmly. She kept her eyelashes feathered over her eyes, blocking out the drizzle. She couldn't keep the chill from creeping through her coat and into her veins.
His smile grew wider until it seemed to split his handsome face in half. His eyes shone with a sadism that she could never understand.
"Then why are you here?" the question seemed more like a mocking statement rather than an inquiry.
"That's none of your business." her voice cracked.
"Oh, I know," he said innocently. "I'm just curious."
The church bell tolled once. The avenue bore down on her, the windows of the apartment buildings glowering with eyes blank and blind. They seemed to accuse her, as if she had committed some ungodly sin.
She massaged her temples.
She turned her head to the sky, glazed over with gray. The rain kissed her cheeks. The drops melded together with the tears streaming down her face, disguising her despair.
He stood up, smoothing down his suit. He extended an arm, as if to touch her, but he hesitated, and drew it back. He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and turned on his heel. With one last glance over his shoulder, one last smile, he walked away to leave her standing alone in the rain.
The church bells tolled.


A/N: not done. gotta go. done for the anthology at camp.
You guys aren't supposed to understand this, because I don't really tell you who they are. There are some subtle hints. Think of the dead flowers. and the Funeral. But I don't expect you to get it, and that's fine, as long as you like it. Kudos if anyone can guess who these two are.