pour one out for our ghosts

zephyr

You've kissed a lot of people in the years since Ella died. Big kisses, small kisses, fierce kisses, hungry kisses. Most of them were less kiss than facsimile of fucking, a prelude with tongues to simulate that which you actually want to do with your cock. But this? This kiss is like sinking into a cool bed on a hot day. It's a promise you're making, and and a thing you're asking for, an unspoken oath made with heat and lips.

You're horribly worried when she breaks away, because even though you're drunk as a skunk you can feel how key this moment is. It's the moment where she can choose to disappear just like Ray had hours before. The point where good things in your life tend to be taken away- that, or you leave them behind to avoid the risk.

Instead she's sitting in your lap, trapping you in place. On instinct your wrap your arms around her, so strangely comfortable holding her even after so short a time. And gods, she wants you, even here at your low point, drunk and mourning and hardly able to keep yourself upright. "I want you, too," you murmur, gasp, tightening your grasp upon her and leaning against her chest. "I really, really want you, but.... I also kinda want to throw up."

And just like that another moment is ruined, thanks to the truly impressive skills of Zephyr Kawaianu, Romantic Drunk.

burn all the things you have to burn
save all the people you're supposed to save