"I don't want to leave."
I confess, feeling my throat tighten and my face grow hot. I search his face for any hesitation. There's none. Of course there isn't; he's perfect, he's cold, he's untouchable.
I put a hand to his cheek, feeling the cool skin, wondering if this is the last time I'll ever get to touch him. He's not the boy I had fallen in love with anymore.
Instead, a man stands in his place; tired, battered, broken, the smirk gone from his face.
"What if this is the last time I'll ever see you again?"
We both know what I'm talking about. If he doesn't die in this war, I surely will. If we both survive, there's no way we'll be together no matter which side wins. His eyes meet mine and I forget to breathe.
His hand reaches up and takes mine. Our fingers interlock. All coherent thought leaves me as he leans in, his other hand coming up to cup my chin. This moment is perfect. We are perfect. His kiss is bruising, passionate, and unforgiving all at once. I can tell he knows this is our last kiss. I can tell he's afraid. I don't want him to fight. I don't want it to end. It's too soon when he pulls away and, with one last look, turns and leaves without a word.
I touch my lips together, savoring how plump and raw they feel. His kiss still lingers. I want nothing more than to break, but I will not cry. Instead, I will fight and I will win and I will save the boy with the insufferable smirk from everything-including himself.
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279 words
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1st June 2018
Friday
Shizz😘
