we got that love, the crazy kind
I am his and he is mine
The girl - Phoebe - vanishes off somewhere, but quite frankly I barely notice or care. I should, but I don't- how can I, when he is there, when my hand tingles with the imprint of his face, hurting like it's real, hurting like the most beautiful thing I have ever felt.Is he real? The pain in my hand says so, and he affirms it, his voice exactly the way I remember, a low hoarse growl that sets me on fire. But I died, I remember dying, and he was there, and now we're here, and it makes no fucking sense. How have we traversed worlds and lifetimes, in the minutes between my life and death? I saw you, I saw you, I saw you a I died. is he a ghost?
Am I?
Ugh, he even smells the same, a mix of sweat and bad decisions that always managed to get me in trouble, no matter how hard I tried to resist (and let's be real, it wasn't that hard). His hands leave my face and I take a step back, pinned between him and a wall, his hands on either side of my head, his breath too hot on my skin. I close my eyes and tilt my head up, nose ghosting along the bridge of his own, almost close enough but not because it feels too dangerous to close the space
I lost you. I have half a mind to slap him again, and half a mind to laugh. "Ek was joune totdat ek gesterf het." I remember it too, as if it was yesterday, except not because to me it was only an hour ago. How long has it been for him? How long did it take him to move on, to make a new home and find a new purpose? Does he have a new kingdom, a new career, a new-
-wait-
-oh. The girl.
It all makes sense now, except it doesn't because again, I literally just died for him and apparently he's already shacked up with some pretty little blonde. I push back against him suddenly, forcing away that intoxicating smell, a sudden storm on my wounded face. "Did you forget about me, Sunny?" Have you replaced me so easily?
LUSEA
