He Touched.

The well of creativity that was his gift and curse opened between them, starting as a point of light, growing until it encompassed them both and filled the room. It shifted, sliding and fighting to escape the bounds that she represented. Without her, he could disappear into the well, his sanity stretching beyond her ability to repair.

The world, normally shrouded in grey to her, brightened into color as her mind merged with his. She forced her breathing to stay slow, even, forcing him to the same, lest he forget and suffocate. She heard the echo of the inspiration that rode him and reached to the recording unit on the wall to press the yellow button just before the first notes splashed into the air before her.

She saw the music as flashes of brilliant color, tears filling her eyes at the beauty of it. He always wondered why she put up with this, with him, and she always tried to explain these precious moments when she saw the world as he did. He never understood.

And it always ended to soon.