Tyrant

(𝟸𝟻) 𝙴𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎

The rush of emotion that violently courses through me has my soul blazing like a newborn kernel of flames. 

Like a phoenix—the fascinating bird of hope and fire and strength. 

And as Darcio's lips fervently crush mine in the dim light of his bedroom, all sense of self-control and composure fly out the window as if blown away by a violent hurricane. Everything is him, him, him—

I hunt for air as he slowly, cautiously, distances his lips from mine, only to place them upon my forehead—the move has more heart-wrenching emotions stinging behind my eyes, sparking a long lost feeling in my very bones. 

The tenderness in that action alone makes me want to cry. 

Darcio keeps me tucked close, enveloping me into a secure, warm embrace as though fearful I would be lost, stolen, ripped from him. His face, having found refuge in the crook of my shoulder, leaves me burying my own face in his warm collarbones.

And then there is silence.

Silence so deafening that it roars past my ears, reverberates in my cells like a mute hurricane. 

But not uncomfortable silence. 

Silence of understanding.

I decide to break the lack of sound with words that needed to be said as much as the world needed saving.

My voice is breathless, soft, as I whisper, "I've fallen for you too, Darcio."

He stills, only tilting his head from where it resides at my shoulder to hear me better. "I've fallen so hard that there's no escape—and I don't want to escape."

At that, his hooded eyes peer into mine, wider than usual. And a piece of me crumbles and disintegrates into ashes as I see them redden, as I see hints of tears well up in there like delicate puddles after a gentle rain. 

I tenderly reach my hand to his face, my thumb caressing his cheekbone and whisper, "It's scary. This attachment to you, in a world where the ones you care for are not guaranteed to stay, to live."

He doesn't break my gaze, doesn't move an inch, as we both sit there in the silent dimness, his forehead caressing mine, and stare into each others' souls.

He slowly, so slowly, fastens his lashes, one vulnerable drop of salty water cascading down his cheek and dripping onto my lap.

Darcio just shed a tear. 

The thought alone hands me the desire to weep for his exposed vulnerability.

"I'll live for you, Phoenix." He gets out. "I'll live and I'll stay, and I won't even let death separate us. I'll come back, should death claim me. I promise."

The pure, featherlight whisper of a chuckle that leaves my lips has him staring, eyes wide, face astonished and amazed at the simple breath of joy from me. "How will you come back from death?" My words are mellow, teasing—Darcio's lips curve into the smallest yet most elated smile.

"I'll work it out. For you."

I don't break his gaze as our lips unanimously tilt up into soft, serene smiles, so pure and real that the intense emotions flowing through me like a precious river of gold threaten to spill more tears. Tears of gleeful sadness.

His vow find a secret place in my heart and seals itself there, tucked deeply into a small crevice. 

My shaky hand trails his bicep, a small part of me still cautious of his sling, and he visibly shudders under my touch, his skin soft and steely, like heated iron coated with velvet.