Ginia

Ginia knew what she would wake up to every morning. She never doubted for a moment that tousled black hair, too black to throw any light, would be peeking above the sheets. And when she carefully slid from the bed and walked to the other side, the rest of his face would be at rest, the only time he was truly honest.

What she did not know was if a carefully crafted explanation would fall from his lips a few hours later and if by that evening she would be pacing the room, too torn to sleep. She didn't want to think she was just like every other girl, and after a year (this Wednesday) she didn't think she was anymore. But even if she wasn't like them, she still didn't think she was to him what he was to her.

She doubted that she was the only woman he gave a glance to, and she doubted that he kept his suggestive comments for her alone. If a woman came up to Ginia and asked if she knew where he had been that weekend, for instance, she wouldn't be surprised to learn he was in the company of another woman. She did think she understood him, though, and by the look in his eye, he knew she did. She also knew that he loved her, but whether that was a common habit of his or not, she couldn't say. If something happened to her, he was there to hold her while she cried and fight off whoever had done it. His hands would shake when he kissed her sometimes, betraying his smooth talking.

Ginia knew he loved her, but she didn't know if that would keep him from leaving.

--

He woke up early and rolled over, looking at Ginia for a moment before he got up. He loved her, and that's why he had to go now, before he had to face her. He was terrified at what he was becoming; he'd fought off the instinct to run for nine months (and twelve days). He knew he would come running if ever she asked him back, if ever she decided to forgive him – and he knew she would. Forgive him, that is. He didn't know if she'd ask for him back.

He was going across the world, too far away to be called back. No one here knew where he was going. He wasn't taking any chances. Unable to face the future with her, every bone in his body aching for another adventure, he closed the door behind him. The part of his mind that was happy to be free was whining about how he'd not had any fun in the past year (and two days) with just Ginia to come back to, and no other women in the meantime. He listened to it as he walked away, thinking about where he could go, now that he was free.

Inspiration: Errant thoughts of House in combination with a character from my stories. He's one of my favorites, and while this may not have happened, I can also see it happening as well.