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Love never dies.
It withers like a dying flower, the petals once bright darkening themselves more and more until they dissolve at the faintest touch, the dissipated ashes of what was once such beauty gone with the wind in a matter of seconds.
But even flowers on the verge of death can blossom and bloom. More and more leaves can sprout out of the stems and the petals can brighten themselves more and more until it's like angels are singing up from heaven as the plant sprinkles you in fairy dust and you're dancing around a meadow of flowers just like that one, and you feel on top of the world as if all your worries have evaporated into the ground beneath you, and they're never coming back.
There was something inside Mischa that made him so angry. That made him want to scream and throw everything around him and kick everything and everyone and curse out everything that ever existed. The feeling strangled him, invisible chains tightened around his neck as he tried not to let his anger, his pure rage get the best of him.
But Talia made that feeling sink into the deepest depths of his body, made him feel so calm and happy inside. Made that feeling go away.
Oh, his Talia.
The most beautiful girl to walk the streets of Ukraine. The softest eyes. The prettiest smile. Every time she smiled, the world turned a little more peaceful. She was like a enchanting butterfly fluttering around in a world of spiders.
And every time Mischa saw his face, he wanted to kiss her lips and stroke her hair and hold her close as if the world were ending and it was the last time he would ever see her again.
Because he'd do anything, anything for his Talia. His кохана.
And she was smiling now, smiling like the world had nothing against her, her fingers entwined in Mischa's as they stared into the horizon. Looking at the meadow spread out in front of them. The daisies and daffodils springing out the ground, the sky bathing their young faces in May sunlight.
Talia's looking ahead. But Mischa's looking at Talia.
And she turns her head back and lets the sparkling blue oceans in her eyes rest on her husband's face, and her cheeks turn dark red as she grins bashfully, reaching out on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Mischa's lips.
"Я тебе кохаю," she whispers, the tips of her fingers tracing circles into his palm.
And those words were so fragile, so quiet they could've been blown away in the wind. But the words meant so much in the silence they stood strong. The silent whisper said that day would be echoing in Mischa's head until the day he died, the words being softly played in his mind over and over again, like holding a shell from the beach up to your ear to hear the sea sing.
But it wasn't the sea; it was his beloved instead. The undying sea of love he took that particular shell from was rooting for them. Rooting for their love.
And looking into the eyes of his beautiful Talia made him love her so hard he felt like his heart was crawling up to his throat, desperate to scream to the world his love for her, but it was choking him so helplessly it's like you wouldn't notice. Wouldn't notice the way they smiled at each other, like no one else was around.
The way they seeked the warmth in each other's hands whenever they were scared, like the only thing that mattered to them was the sweet touch of their partner. The way that when their lips touched, the world stopped spinning for them. It was just them, in their own little universe.
"Моя кохана," Mischa says back, his words barely making it above the sound of the trees singing in the distance, swaying with the wind; his deep voice painted with passion, he says, "Я також тебе кохаю."
And the world went quiet to hear him say those words. Because if there was ever a pair of lovers more meant for each other, it was Mischa and Talia.
"Talia, oh my love."