#ninextwelve

When we kissed, it felt like the light that glowed in him was passing into my own body; that his vibrancy, his vitality, his burning desire to live was flowing between us, jumpstarting my own. When he pulled back too soon, dragging a small and undignified whine out of my throat, my eyes opened of their own accord.

Some lights were so bright that they were dangerous to look at- white fire, searing through the viewers’ retinas and deep into their brains. My head throbbed as I gazed at his brilliance, a migraine threatening at the corners of my vision. But I didn’t close my eyes; forced myself to simply stare, and to drink in the agonizing beauty smoldering in his molten brown eyes.

“I love you so much.” It was all I could say. 

Twelve smirked, and this time I was the one to initiate the kiss. I wrapped my arms around his thin waist, and his legs encircled mine. My body felt like it was being burned to cinders by his, but the feeling was truly exquisite. I wondered if anyone ever took these kinds of feelings for granted; wondered if this was commonplace for so-called normal people with so-called normal upbringings.

And, as I pondered that question, I was honestly grateful for everything we had both been put through. Without it, I knew, Twelve would never have been set ablaze, not like this. Without it, I knew, I would never have been able to appreciate basking in the white hot flames that shone in my Twelve’s eyes, not like this. 

I didn’t care if he took every scrap of oxygen from my lungs; consumed all the air around us and left none at all for me. In fact, I would be glad beyond anything to give him my very last breath.

Fires needed fuel to stay lit, after all.

When he drew back again, the agony between my temples was almost unbearable. The needle-like pricking of my lungs was just an embellishment as my vision wavered, torn between the brilliant white of Twelve’s fire and the flickering blackness of unconsciousness. As I gasped raggedly, Twelve made a worried sound in the back of his throat and massaged my chest with both his hands.

“You have to remember to breathe when we do that, silly,” he whispered into my neck, his voice cracked with concern. “You scare me to death when you faint.”

I felt myself smile, just slightly, and close my eyes. I could still see him, though, like the afterimage left by a bright flash of light.

“My head… it hurts… Twelve… kiss me again…”

Murmuring something that was halfway between reluctance and compliance, he did just that; tangled his fingers in my hair and massaged my aching temples. I let him steal my breath; deprive me of oxygen until the horrible pain began to fade, leaving behind only the warm glow of his presence and the pressure of his lips against mine.

I wanted desperately to be consumed by his flames; wanted to forget myself and the agony of my existence and live only inside him. But while he was the life to my deathlike state, I was the hope to his dreamless sleep. I needed to stay, if only to point toward a future that he couldn’t see; I needed to stay, so that he wouldn’t burn himself out in his own combustion, a brilliant funeral pyre.

But, for the moment, I allowed my lungs to collapse. The stabbing pain of oxygen deprivation right in my breastbone overrode my pounding headache, just for a second, and then there was only darkness.