"Melissa..." He muttered carefully, warningly.
"I want you to be happy, but I don't think opening a blind and burning yourself in the afternoon sun would be such a good idea. All it will do is hurt you."
"Any worse than I already am?"
"There's no point making it worse, though is there?"
"It can't get worse. It's only right that my exterior represents what I feel inside."
He got up and stood next to her, a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Melissa. Don't."
She felt her heart tug in her chest, her stomach tying itself in knots. "Why not?"
"Making your body hurt will solve nothing. It will only make you hungry when you heal and then what? We'll most likely fall out over you feeding again."
"Not if I burn to cinders."
He tugged on her shoulder and twisted her around to face him. He stared down into her eyes unhappily. "Please, please don't. Melissa!" Her eyes became weary and were glazed over as she absently looked beyond him.
"I don't deserve this." She mumbled in a flat monotone.
"Deserve what?" He asked softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her away from the window.
"This. This!" She gestured around her emptily. She pushed him away with all the force she could muster. "Leave if you know what's good for you." He stumbled back a step, but didn't move any further.
"GO!" She pleaded.
"Why?" He asked quietly, just about managing to keep his voice from cracking.
"Because I, being your superior, demand you to do so!"
He narrowed his eyes. "My superior?" His tone turned cold.
"I am higher in class and social stature!"
"I'm not being kicked out of my own apartment just because you're in a temper, Melissa." He told her firmly, unable to believe that she had resorted to using her class against him.
"Then I'll leave!" She growled, turning to the door.
"Melissa! Melissa!" He shouted, his own temper beginning to rise. "Why are you doing this?"
"I don't want this love anymore. I'm sick of it." She spat, her hand pushing down the door handle, opening the door. He scowled and quickly swapped his jogging trousers for the first pair of trousers and shirt that came to hand.
"Fine. Well, since I am the pauper in this room, you can stay. I'll leave you be." He pushed past her and stormed down the stairs. She slammed the door behind him, pacing the room irritably. Stamping across the floor, banging on the walls, screaming her heart out. But none of it calmed her.
Lazarus stopped on the first floor and tried to calm himself for a moment, but when it didn't work, he slammed his fist into the wall. He didn't notice as his skin split. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to clear his head, but he was too angry. They had fallen out before, she had even gone as far as throwing her ring to his feet and telling him to go before, which admittedly she hadn't done this time, but she may as well have ripped his heart out and thrown it out of the window. Breathing heavily, he continued through the corridor, wishing he wasn't in an unfamiliar town.
She stopped her breathing feeling that it irritated her. She felt like destroying everything but thought that would only make things worse. She was just so confused.
Lazarus wandered the streets aimlessly, angry and as useless as cast offs. He was trying to figure out why he was so angry this time, and when the answer had come to him, he stopped dead for a second, his fists balling. Her attempt to use her social status against him. He growled loudly, not caring if anyone was around to hear it or not.
"What's wrong Lazarus?" Albert asked, walking from the shadows behind him.
Melissa paced the room before sitting down on Lazarus' piano stool. She sighed, shaking her locks softly.
Lazarus spun and faced the other werewolf. "You. Me. The world and its ridiculous way of throwing people together only to rip them apart again, like a tide." He laughed a little hysterically, backing off a few steps as Albert neared him.
"What happened?" He asked as sincerely as he could.
"I'm really not in the mood to talk, Albert. We were happy. As happy as we could be, as we were. And then you! You! Of all the things we were worrying about, you were not one of them. You're supposed to be dead. We all are. But that's not the point. She thought you were dead, and then you decided after all this time, four centuries after you 'died', that it would be a good idea to come back into her life?" Lazarus ended up ranting, despite the fact that he was more in the mood to beat the crap out of something, rather than talk.
"I didn't expect to see her there! I've been watching from afar!" Albert protested.
"Now you just sound like a stalker."
"I...I suppose I am, I vowed to make her happy. So I followed her, making sure no harm came to her." Albert admitted.