Once, he saw the world in colour. Just like everyone else did. He led a fairly ordinary life- sure, he was famous, and one of his best friends was the heir to the throne, but it wasn't like he had anything which made him any happier than the average citizen. At least, not until he attended that engagement party. Not his, you understand, just an engagement party. He was 18. And he fell in love with her instantly, from the very first time he glimpsed her poised, royal figure standing across the hall from him, gazing indifferently out at the crowds. Her beauty captivated him, her exotic, foreign looks made her irresistible. She had large, golden eyes set in a classical, well-sculpted face covered in the most entrancing olive skin he had ever seen. Her long, ebony locks shone, even from the shadows where she preferred to hide, and he longed to reach out and run the soft strands through his hands, contrasting the gentle feel of them to the harsh, calloused surface of his fingertips. She was clad in the traditional dress of her country- a kimono, he recalled- carefully chosen so that the midnight blue of the garment complimented the eye shadow which danced up her temples in a captivating spiral.

From that moment, he saw everything in a whole new light. His world was set aflame; nothing could douse the fire of his feelings, his love, his lust. For so long that evening he had stared at her, drinking in her beauty, downing in her radiance. He felt a strange sense of belonging when he at last approached her, and led her onto the dance floor in his arms. He was complete, finally he could be at peace. The strange journey of self-discovery which every adolescent undertook had ended- this, he realised, had been his destination all along.

As fate would have it, this entrancing creature was his best friend's sister, finally reunited with her after 16 years of separation. He used this to his advantage, of course, and slowly got to know the mind of his beloved. Needless to say, he only fell in love with her more, if that was even possible. She had a variety of little quirks, he realised. Like when it started to get dark in the evenings, she'd always wait until the last possible moment until lighting a candle in her room, and then going on that until it was pitch black, and she absolutely had to switch on the main light to avoid injury. She never closed the fridge door. Beeping noises made her jump, even if she had been expecting it, and when that happened she had a tendency to squeak and scuttle forwards. When she was happy, she'd hum quietly to herself in the major scale, but when she was unhappy she'd hum in minor. She couldn't stand it when her hair got in her face, and so was continually tucking it behind her ears. In fact, the front bits of her hair had spend to long curved over her ear that there were now permanent kinks in them.

All of this, every little aspect of her character made up the woman he loved. He was devoted to her. And for so long, she had never even knew it. She never knew that the bright young boy who remained always by her side had never been THIS happy, or realised that had she desired it, he would have thrown himself off a cliff just to keep the smile on her face. When she cried, his heart shattered, and he held her tightly to his chest, near to the constant beating of his heart to try and bring comfort to her. When she laughed, he almost wished that God would kill him right there and then, so the last thing he would see was her with her head thrown back and a smile on her face, and the last thing he would hear was her glorious laughter ringing in his ears.

But, nothing ever works out how it should. The people who deserve to find happiness in each other never do- which is exactly what happened to him. His love was ripped from him- and so their relationship ended, before their time was right. They had barely said 'I do' before death separated them. And Death, the cruel puppeteer, had not even the decency to take her away with compassion. The departure had been messy and bloody, painful and slow. A knife to the chest, several blows to the head, a long and torturous wait for the blood to leave the body and take it's life with it.

Because of this, there was nothing left for him. No love, no life, no nothing. Everything was grey. He couldn't even make out the light and the dark anymore, he had lost everything. But still, he clung on to her, to her beautiful soul, to her glowing skin- or what used to be, as she had also been affected by Death. Her eyes no longer shone, her hair was limp and she never smiled. Not even once. Both of them knew what they had was gone. And this, this was what it had done to them. This is what happens when there is nothing left.

For the last time, he lost himself in her beauty, the turned away to save himself the pain. He could feel something tugging on his soul, telling him it was time to move on. And maybe it was. After all, what could he do? There was no way that they could ever be together now that they were, quite literally, worlds apart.

Because she was alive, and he was dead.

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