âPlease talk to me about it.â
There isn't much to say, just the... No. She doesn't even want to think about it, much less discuss it.Â
Valâs shoulder is pale in the moonlight streaming in through the window-- Xu shifts, plants her hands on either side of the other, fingers digging into soft-washed sheets. She dips her head, kisses, mouth running a ragged line, trying to distance herself from the events of not forty-eight hours prior.Â
But she is here, not dead, not praying for death (and that was the darkest moment, the knowledge that she would rather be gone than endure).Â
That needs to be distance enough. Xu abandons her efforts, lowers herself and tucks her face in the crook of Valerieâs throat. She is alive, alive, alive, and Valâs pulse beats against Xuâs nose.Â
Her exhale is shaky, her voice soft. âPromise me you wonât leave me,â she breathes, so quietly that if Val doesnât hear her, Xu can pretend she never said anything at all.Â