#glowingdruggie

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               July 7th, 2014     Pink hair, pink nails, soft voice, gentle touch… that’s all I remember of this past     Fourth of July. I don’t remember what it did, but I know it was bad — when I got     out of the episode I guess I panicked, and Fetch was there, and she helped me…     but Jesus I never wanted anyone to see me like that. I was so weak, so vulnerable.     I guess, at least, it’s good that I can trust her. And you know, I love her. I always have,     like a little sister, but now… she’s the only family I have left.

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RIP OUT MY MUSE’S HEART IN 1 ASK.

     Time stops; it decays around him, revealing the skeleton of memory in its     wake. Images flash before his eyes, relating to him the past year, and the     months prior to her diagnosis. Tears streak down his face, and once more     he learns how to breathe, his eyes closing to capture those fleeting pictures. 

     ”It-It’s alright, sir. Thank you for calling me. I-I’ll… I’ll come by to pick up her     things in a day or so, if that’ll be alright.” Delsin exhales, forcing the sadness     from his voice; Fetch wouldn’t have wanted him to be sad, he thinks. She      would have wanted him to be brave, at least until he was alone, until he was     with her again. So he’d wait, now, until he was alone with the memory of her. 

     After a moment he hangs up, not even hearing the doctor’s reply. Fetch was     dead. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye. She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye,      either. They were alone, without each other; he remembers their final moment     together, when he’d sat by her hospital bed, gripping her freezing hand. And     he’d smiled, told her to ‘hold on, lasergirl, you’ll be okay’. But she wasn’t.

     And neither was he, now. No, he was alone. Left with a memory.

     Sinking to his knees, the conduit lets out a loud, ugly sob and drops his phone.     It hits the floor, and its sound reverberates through his skull, into his senses,      and then into the unforgiving void. ”I’m sorry, Fetch.” He cries, his head dropping     to his chest. ”I love you, God, I love you and I’m sorry.

     Abyss-dyed shadows slather the room in an inky darkness,     taking the two conduits captive as one lays in bed, hurt -     dying - while the other stands solemn, thoughtful. Cold,     ivory moonlight slithers through the cracks in the blinds,     striping the floor in silver essence. Clothes dapple the     floor like clots of blood, discarded in previous hours     haste; even his beanie lay, vacant, on the forbidding floor.

     Standing, back to her, his hands are clenched at his sides      and his bottom lip is almost worn bloody. Dressed only in     dark shorts, hes a guardian of decency, a morbid reflection     of a life he could have but couldn’t because of a year.

     One year to live. That was their future, so why did they do      this now? Now, when it would end in black and a gravestone?

     Fetch calls softly behind him, her eyelids heavy with sleep and      her bare form scarcely covered by the sheets. Exhaling into the     void of his thoughts, the Akomish turns back to face her and     offers up a wan smile.

     ”I love you, Abigail.” 

     Delsin’s whisper is taken away on the frigid breath of night; it is     lost forever between the two of them, in that moment. The pink-     haired conduit blinks, a small smile gracing her lips, and finally     she lays back down, beckoning with a gentle arm for him to     return to the warmth of her company. And so he does.

     Padding quietly across the floor, he moves to the edge of the bed     and sits, then lies down, curling next to her with an arm slung over     her side. He exhales once more, this time to take in her scent that     is all at once perfect and flawed; does he imagine it, or can he      already smell death’s sweetness on her?

     Not willing to poison his thoughts further, the conduit nuzzles into     her neck, planting a kiss right under her ear and then on her throat     and then down on her collar. There he stays, his lips on salty skin,     his dark gaze closed as he pictures the woman in all her neon glory.     And he does not feel sad for losing her, he feels happy for knowing      her, for having this moment to share. 

     ”Don’t leave soon." 

     He murmurs, finally pulling back to meet her gaze. Running a hand     through her hair, he smiles tiredly and closes his eyes once more.