#ltms

HEEEE😭😭😭😭

"Ily," she whispers, shaking his shoulder. "Ily, you gotta go."

"... Min?" he asks, groggy. He can still feel how his skin is mottled black-and-blue, tender and painful against the rough fabric of the bedsheets. So the fight wasn't his imagination, then. He glances over at the bedside table and blinks at the red glowing numbers floating in the dark.

"It's 2am," he whispers. He props himself up on his elbow, ignoring the way his hair pulls away from the pillow, still tacky with dried blood. "Min- Min what's going on?"

"Government's instigated for martial law," says Min, her figure a dark silhouette against the curtains she draws shut. "They're sending out the army to Southside, it's gonna land in minutes."

"Fuck." Ilyia watches Min throw what's left of his belongings into a box - the jacket from Amira, before they parted ways, a few knick-knacks he's collected over the years, yesterday's lunch. Min was never good at packing. "How's everyone?"

"Ready to kick ass." She slams the box shut with finality, and when she turns her head to look at him, he jumps - her eyes are glowing peach in the dark, and there's fine lines shining through the makeup on her face. It's magic - magic like he's never seen, never felt, and the power is so intense he feels himself screaming at the strength.

"Min, what, how?"

"I'm dying, Ily." She tosses him a fresh shirt, then climbs onto the bed beside him. "And this is my final act. Hold still."

"Fuckin' hell woman, what-"

Min whips off her gloves, and peach spills out from her fingertips like a fog. It envelops him, lighting up the room in a soft, warm light that sings to him of his dreams - blue skies, soft grass, a quiet evening spent doing nothing but watching the sun set.

And then light dies, and his injuries are gone. He looks up at Min, his hands shaking - from fear or shock, he isn't sure. He can see her face clearly now - the full-body tattoos she carries shining through the thick makeup like light through cracks on a porcelain mask. "How?" he whispers. "I thought that was impossible."

She winks. "Told you I'm a god." She hops back up onto her feet, peach trailing off her in wisps of glowing light. "I'm gonna cover the resistance from here," she says, glancing out of the gap in the curtains. The sound of thousands in the streets are already starting to roar, and she has to speak above the noise. "But I'm going to die in the attempt and I need you to go."

"Is this the time travel bullshit logic you were talking about?"

"Yes. Look, I don't know time, I'm just replicating the best I can, and you promised."

"Fuck you," says Ilyia, but he's already dressed and fishing Amira's jacket out of the box. "Your letter better explain what's going on."

"It'll try," she says. She looks so foreign, standing in his darkened room with her eyes alight and her tears aglow, but her scarred smile is still one he knows and loves - nervous and jumpy and full of secrets.

He steps over and squeezes her smaller frame tight in his arms. "This is goodbye, then?" he asks, his throat tight.

"Yeah." Her voice is small, soft - but he can hear the steel in it when she whispers. "It's the turning point - it'll get better after this for everyone, I promise."

"And me?"

She pulls away from him and holds him at arm's length. "You'll be safe," she says, her eyes glittering with tears even as she smiles. "You'll get your dream, like I promised."