⚠️ TW: mild gore
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It was quite dark, as far as department stores usually go. The display racks of clothes and accessories nearly smack you in the face upon entering. I trail behind my friend as she makes a beeline for the first aisle.
The front door dings open and shut, causing me to clench the cuffs of my jacket sleeves. Through the hangars I glance the new customer's familiar face.
It can't be. There's no way.
Oh crap. I'm wearing the hoodie he gave me.
"Psst," I whisper urgently to my friend. "I need you to do me a really quick favour, like, now please."
My eyes must have been pleading as much as my voice because hers bugged out ever so slightly before she nodded and pulled me by the elbow to the next aisle. My plan was to take off the sweater and tie it inside out around her waist; it's kind of hard to miss as well as disguise, what with it being bright blue and plastered front and back with big white letters.
But my quick thinking hadn't been quick enough—he had already seen us and walked even faster to catch up.
"Wait!" He said my name. I haven't heard it from his mouth in quite some time. My friend grips me harder and tries to leave but I can't move anymore. It really is him.
As soon as I process his presence, he's here. Right in front of me. In my arms? He's wrapped himself around me and I seem to have reciprocated. I can't see anything. My eyes are closed.
His face buried in my neck, arms squeezing me tight, hands tangled in my hair—I couldn't take it. I was frozen. I felt like I was watching myself from someone else's perspective, hugging him back just as fiercely. All I could smell was him. All I could hear was his heartbeat. I didn't want to wake up.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
I tried to let go but he clung tighter and I had no choice but to breathe in his shampoo. It made me hungry. For him.
I finally pushed away and held him at arm's length. He looked exactly the same. But brighter. He seemed to have learned better ways to take care of his hair. It looked fabulous and so very healthy. I wanted to play with it. His eyes flashed and those ridiculous eyelashes fluttered.
"Where have you been?"
I don't know which of said that. We both laughed. He shrugged. "Nowhere important," he answered me, or himself—I couldn't be sure.
I never wanted to let him go again. The ever-present smirk, the eyes that could freeze hell over and melt me all at once, the voice that sounds just like a dream I never wanted to wake from. Wake up. Wake up.
Wake up.
I shook the sleep from my eyes and steeled myself against unwelcome tears. I introduced him to my friend. He said hello but didn't let go of me, lacing his arm around my waist and holding my hand to his chest.
My fingers splayed across his tshirt, longing to claw through it and tear out his heart so I could never lose him again. My own heart skipped a beat and I flinched.
What on God's green earth was that thought?
His heart beat was steady. My own pulse rushed loudly in my ears.
Was he saying my name?
He lightly grabbed my chin and turned me to face him. "Are you okay? You look tired."
I assured him I was perfectly fine—more so, in fact, what with him being here. I wanted nothing else but to be perfectly fine. I am, aren't I?
I thought I was. But it does seem like a bit of a pipe dream. Dream. Dreaming. Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
"Hey." His eyes were all I could see. Nothing else mattered. "I missed you."
My heart threatened to beat out of my chest entirely and I could feel him pulling me closer.
The department store door dinged. Another customer had walked in. He stiffened immediately.
"You look tired." He laced his fingers into mine. "Come with me."
He began to run and I had no time to remember to say goodbye to my friend, no time to remind him I'm a dreadfully horrible runner. The adrenaline of his presence kept me going. Toward the back of the store. Weaving in and out of racks and displays.
A door clacked open and closed and we were in the employee backrooms, cold concrete hallways between the rest of the stores. He led me farther down the halls.
I was running so fast I barely had time to be surprised at how fast I was running. But my lungs performed miraculously, and I was scarcely huffing or puffing. What a dream.
Dream.
Am I dreaming?
Another door banged open into a storage yard. The night felt fresh and cold. The stars made up for the lack of their moon companion, shining brightly in spite of the city streets.
He pulled me around a corner and stepped in front of me, breath frosty on the starlit air. He looked up and brushed a mess of hair out of my eyes. I was sweating buckets, of course. But he had always said he didn't mind. His hand felt cool as it lingered on my face. It trailed spider-like to rest naturally on the back of my neck.
I couldn't speak. My heart was in my throat. I felt I was physically choking on it.
I was. I was choking on my heart. I'm going to vomit on him. I haven't seen him in a year and a half and I'm going to throw up on his beautiful face.
I shoved him backward just as it heaved out of me. Slimy with blood and whatever other bodily fluids, there it lay on the concrete—my heart, pulsing and oozing in a puddle.
I waited for him to pick it up. He was closer to it, but he looked at me with his head tilted to the side.
"What? It's your heart. I'm not in charge of it anymore." He blinked his beautiful eyes. "I never was."
A chill went down my spine and the stars began to flicker, like a garden of candles on a birthday cake being blown out one by one.
I crouched to retrieve my aching heart. It sputtered and seemed to wheeze in my hands.
"You shouldn't sleep on this," he said, quieter with each word, as if someone was very slowly turning down a volume dial.
Sleep. Sleeping.
I'm asleep. I'm dreaming.
My heartbeat slowed and the colour started to drain.
"What do I do?" I looked up and he was still there, but it wasn't him, and then he wasn't there.
"It's your heart," he said again, farther away than I knew a voice could reach.
I looked at the thing in my hand. "It's my heart," I muttered, preparing myself for what I knew I had to do.
Deep breaths.
Wake up.
I closed my eyes. Opened my mouth wide and shoved my heart down my throat.
A painful gulp brought tears to my eyes and a beat back to my chest. It gained tempo and I felt warmer. I looked up to thank him, but he was gone.
The sky was black.
The back of my eyelids are black.
And red. The sun is rising.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
I'm awake.
I’m alive.
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A/N: Go check out my sister Luthien’s work of the week, The Fog (a new and thrilling short story), and my sister Dani’s work of the week, Island (a story separate but connected to a story I’m writing about princesses)!