Page 164 of My Lovely Tragedy

Stillness.

“T-Tobias.” My jaw quivers, distorting the waves of my tone as thatstillnessburns its way into me.Wrongwrongwrong.

I squeeze my eyelids until a truly blinding pressure builds, and I draw my focus into that. Into what makes sense.Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t move. Stay here—in him. Against him. What makes sense.

Don’t open your eyes.

Don’t you dare open your fucking eyes!

DON’T!

And despite every voice—his and mine—screaming in my head at once, I still pull away. I still peel my eyelids open. I still stare blankly down at the man who irrevocably ruined me.

Still and pale and… and…

Lifeless.

My breath hitches, stuck in my throat as he blurs. I blink rapidly at the flare of panic, clearing my path to him. But it’s all wrong.

It’s all wrong.

This isn’t right.

Nonononono.

NO.

I lunge forward, slamming my fists against his chest, throat ripping with fire. Screams echo. Wings flutter as branches crack. “You should’ve let me fucking die! You should’ve let me, but you made me promise! YOU MADE ME PROMISE!”

Something falls.

My hands throb, aching and sticky as I pull them back to my chest. Glance down. Up.

He’s gone.

I whirl around, scraping my knees on the upturned dirt.

He’s fallen to his side. Glasses askew, curls unshapely across his forehead.

“Oh. Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.So, so sorry,” I whisper as I scoot forward and wrap my arms around his torso just below his underarms. I grunt, pushing against a breath locked in my chest as I drag him up until his back is against the crumpled tree, snapped pine branches skewed and downturned.

“Sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” I release him slowly, a slow drag of blood-crusted skin against expensive wool. I reach up to brush my fingers over his forehead, righting his curls until they fall smoothly over his cool forehead. Then, I drop to his rounded, wire-framed glasses and push them up the bridge of his nose, skimming the soft, untouched skin along the way. Just as I’ve always wanted to. And I now can.

I slip beneath the frame, graze his eyelashes. A light feather resting against the bruises of his under eyes. Soft and nearly translucent. My fingers twitch with the desire to peel them open, to see into his soul, but I don’t. I can’t. Because if I do, it won’t be there anymore and… and I think— “Fuck,” I croak, dropping my hand to his motionless chest. I think that will be worse than this.

Seeing within what’s already gone.

Deeper.

Lost.

I drop my head beside my hand as I climb into his lap, between his legs. I graze my fingers over my key dangling between us before reaching down and grabbing his hand lying on the ground, covering gold.

I brush off the dirt scattered over his skin before lifting the leaden weight and bringing it to my face. I curl his fingers until they’re pressed to my cheek, slowly dragging back and forth over my beard, down to my bruised neck, and back up again.

And it doesn’t feel the same. His hands are freezing, though his body is still warm. Still him. Still…

Not here.

My stomach convulses, twisting inside out as my chest concaves and more garbled, choking noises wrench their way out of me. Fragile and eviscerating as I reach for gold and glint the silver.

With the sound of fluttering wings high above, I press my lips to his bared throat, stubbled and still marked with my mouth—my devotion and love and fidelity—and whisper into his vacant vessel. “I forgive?—”

There was only us, only you,

Our bloodsport, my favorite regret

Your promised evanescence

“Don't be sorry your darkness is gone. I'll carry it for you. Always. I'll keep it with mine.”