He dropped down into a chair, head in hands, his voice calming as realisation hit. �It�s over.�
She steadied herself against the door, leaning back on the cool surface and closing her eyes for a second as she took a breath.
�I�m sorry.� He whispered, and then looked up at her. �I can�t keep doing this, tearing each other apart, ruining it all, this isn�t what relationships are supposed to be about.�
�I know, I understand, I�m sorry too.� She dropped her hands from her face as she spoke, trying to remain passive, calm and controlled. She shook her head disbelievingly. �What happens now?�
�I leave I guess.�
�You don�t have to, not right away, where will you go?� As much as she tried to hide it, the panic was all too evident in her voice, the recognition that it would be final if he went.
�Yes I do, if I stay then I�ll never�� He stood up now, swallowing to try and ease the sudden dryness in his throat. �I won�t want to go.� He didn�t turn to her but he knew she was crying, the tears pouring down her face in endless silent streams.
�I don�t want you to go.� The only evidence of her tears was a slight shake to the words.
She turned away from him and climbed the stairs to their bedroom, quickly slipping beneath the sheets without removing her dressing gown and closing her eyes tight. Perhaps she could shut it all out, if she tried hard enough. Drown that awful guilty voice in her head screaming �you did this, you pushed him away, you made him hate you.� Poor selfish June, ice maiden � once again alone.
Jim packed his things away in a daze downstairs, going through the laundry and removing his few shirts and throwing them into a bag. He couldn�t do it all now; he had to get out of there, had to get some air and some space and a place to sleep tonight. To sort himself out before work the next day, god work, what would they do avoid each other? What if he broke down as soon as she entered the room? What would they tell people? That the great romance had hit the rocks and couldn�t be mended? No, they would tell them nothing, it was none of their business, it had just happened, these things end all the time. He would carry on just as he always did when things collapsed, when life kicked him in the balls again. He managed to stand up tall after the mess he�d been before, all down to the drink, he could do it again. Sure he could, just take some guts and a bad memory � to forget what she meant, what this all meant.
He finished downstairs and slowly crept into the room where June was, hidden beneath the bed sheets � what could he do? She didn�t want to talk, well they couldn�t, it would turn into another row or her crying or him crying and it was too raw to go through all that now. He moved round the room emptying draws and taking as much as he could from the wardrobe, he didn�t want to be in there long, like rubbing salt into the wounds. She must have seen this coming though, just as he did, perhaps she�d wanted this all along, putting him through hell for the past few months simply to drive him away. If only she�d told him earlier, admitted to him that it wasn�t going to work� he remembered their conversation so long ago, where she�d told him he had the choice to leave then and she wouldn�t stop him. That was it; that was when it had started to fall apart, her doubt in their relationship, in him, she doubted him and his feelings for her. How dare she assume to know what he wanted � how dare she treat him like some sort of excess baggage, some robot with the choice to pick and choose how he felt, to turn his feelings on and off like a switch. He screwed up the shirt in his hand and threw it at the door; he noticed how she flinched slightly but didn�t make another move, didn�t turn over, didn�t say a word. He opened his mouth to speak � but then what could he say; there was nothing left.
She heard him close the door downstairs, only then did she turn onto her back. Taking in gulps of air and wiping furiously at her face. June Ackland never cried, not for years, she was behaving like a child, lying in bed hiding herself away. She was upset, she was devastated, yet was infuriated with herself for letting it happen � not just for letting him walk away so easily but for allowing herself to fall so deeply in love with him that now it hurt so much. She sat up in bed and looked round the room, the wardrobe doors still open, various draws left untidy, he was hardly ever untidy, uncontrollable she supposed, wanting to get away from her as quickly as humanly possible. She climbed out of bed and pulled the curtains back to open the window and let some air in, it had become incredibly stuffy in the room, noting how it was dark already. Two days spent arguing and for what, so it could all just end. Whatever happened to working through things? Whose fault was it anyway, his, hers, what did it matter, they had both fallen apart. Nothing else left to do but pick yourself up and start again, get on as best you could until suddenly it didn�t hurt anymore. She would be fine, in time. She closed the curtains again and replaced the clothes scattered from the draws, tidying the room in a matter of minutes. She found the shirt threw in frustration out on the landing, picked it up and deposited it in the wash basket as if nothing had happened.