He’s desperate.
The way his hands are sliding up my thighs and latching onto my waist. It’s like he thinks I’ll disappear, dissolving into thin air. My hands are in his hair pulling him close. Even in this intimate moment, I am cautious not to open my emotions too much just like him. For this moment is mostly physical. What else could it be?
Our lips move against each other with calculated intention. He pulls away just for a second before crashing his lips to mine again. He’s trying to stop and I am trying to pull away but neither of us succeed. It’s too intoxicating.
He trails his tongue on my bottom lip groaning, begging. I hesitate before I part my lips letting him in. He tastes as minty as his breath. I sigh as he slides his tongue over mine. He is already so close but I want him closer. It is at this moment where my heart betrays itself. I start to think of this as something romantic and not just physical.
We continue to kiss and press our bodies against each other. I continue melting into his powerful visage unaware of where I made my first mistake.
Death breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. “Do you want to head back home?”
“What about the Formal?”
“I can put Sofie up to it,” Death says, peering down at my lips.
“If you think that’s okay…”
“I do,” Death replies.
“Alright,” I say “Let’s go.”
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We didn’t do anything severe yesterday.
We just kissed all night and nothing else. I am happy that was the only thing that happened. I would have regretted it if we did something scandalous. Now, it’s all back to business just like Death said. After the formal, we would resume the steps.
My lawn is as overgrown as ever. Wait, correction, my old lawn is as overgrown as ever. It’s like the whole street is empty. Maybe because it’s two in the morning but not even cars pass down my street.
“This was your house?” Death asks.
His expression shows more interest than before. He looks around and asks questions. It’s like he wants to get to know me. I lower my gaze and squeeze my eyes shut. He doesn’t want to know me. I can’t get attached to him. It will only hurt me in the end.
“Yeah,” I say, standing on the sidewalk. “This was my pocket of paradise with my family and there is Jason’s house,”
Death peers at the other house. “Jason? That guy you mentioned before. Was he your friend?”
I shake my head frowning. “He was my boyfriend actually,”
“Oh,” Death starts. “Well, do you want to get to it?”
“Yes,” I admit.
These things I used to cherish so much are becoming more of a burden for me instead of a treasure. It isn’t fun holding on to the past when you’re about to really die. I am not talking about this in-between stuff but I mean ceasing to exist, for real this time.