halt and cease fire | {hannah/abra} bitz

He is kissing a corpse.

There is a veil over his eyes that masks what I truly am - cold-veined and glassy-eyed. And I wonder if he feels the ice creeping beneath my flesh when he presses his forehead to mine and whispers, "I'll be with you."

(But caskets are not meant for two.)

"Liar," sprouts on my tongue and wilts there, foiling into ruins. "No, no, you won't, you can't, not when my bones are dust and I'm six feet under into forgotten!"

My vocal cords scream for words, but it's like I've swallowed a gallon of salt water and my throat is torrid desert sand. I am drowning in my own misery, locked in a whirlpool of the lost things - my life, my family, my friends. And there is no strength that could drag me to the surface from my deep sea prison, no force that could pull me, chains and padlocks and all, to the rocky shores.

"I planned on giving you this after . . . in celebration. But you can take it with you now. Maybe it'll help with the dreams?"

His hands unfold to reveal a locket, its golden beauty catching the eye of the scarce sunlight and chasing away the shadows of the Justice Building. My fingers close around the heart pendant, its coldness contrasting with Abra's warmth but matching perfectly with my own ice. It opens with a small tug and a click, like a curtain revealing a fantasy - so far out of our reach now - on a stage.

A gray scale photo of us - Abra's arm around my shoulder, his lips on my cheek, dimpled with a ridiculously blissful smile - rests in the locket, trimmed to match its shape. It looks too perfect, too beautiful, too lively, against this barren, dead land I have been thrust into.

"I - oh my ripred, it's beautiful," I breathe. "Thank you." Cracks spider across the words, left by the tears that brim over onto my cheeks. I don't wipe them away, not in front of the few people I can be glass in front of.

I fasten the locket around my neck with shaky, desperate fingers -

tick tock tick tock ticktockticktock we're running out of time.

I'll never let go, of the gift that has become my token, of Abra.

(They will have to pry the locket from my lifeless, mangled body.)

But I know I still need something, by the emptiness that howls inside; I feel that truth pulling in every part of me.

Frayed heartstrings tug my body to a chair at the corner of the room - breaking away from Abra feels utterly cold, alone, desolate. My hand closes around the top of the chair, and I find myself dragging it towards the door. It screeches against the floor after me like the rusty wheels of an old, rickety train.

Once propped against the door, sealing it shut for just a while longer, I turn back to Abraxas. And it's like I'm not even thinking with my mind anymore, it's like my mind has been thrown out to the tearing winds and my heart has crowned itself ruler.

Fire ignites once more the moment my hand brushes his skin, melting away the cold that still lingered in the room and banishing it out the window. My heart beats to the rhythm of the rising desire - a steady metronome to a wild drum.

"I love you, Abraxas Morrigan, no matter what they make me - what I become - in the arena."

Every kiss is a goodbye, every breath is a silent scream for life, for love, and every riotous heartbeat between us is an "I love you, forever, forever, forever."

(But forever can be severed - I learned that the moment "Hannah O'Leary!" echoed throughout the District Square.)

{ f a d e }

you took my soul and wiped it clean

our love was made from movie screens

❧

{ table: zoë }