I
woke up gagging and sobbing at the same time.
It took me several seconds to realize where I was, and who. More than that to realize that the voice that was weeping their names was mine.
And longer to recognize that another person was holding a basin beneath my face, catching my watery vomit while another hand held my matted hair out of my face.
Gods, it hurt. It hurt so much I couldn’t even breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t navigate my own mind around that seeping grief. I had never met them. And yet, I knew them so intimately that I felt their deaths like acid in an open wound.
A low voice was whispering, “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe,” as steady as a heartbeat. My hand reached out and found the warmth of skin.
I realized, all at once, who sat beside me.
I lifted my face to see the ghostly outline of Max’s face in the darkness, those bright, unnatural eyes glistening. The sight of him drew a dagger from my gut up through my lungs.
My fingers tightened around his. Real. He was real.
I choked out, “They all— They are all—”
“I know.” A low, pained whisper. “You talked in your sleep.”
I let out a cry that scraped from deep inside of me.
And I felt arms encircle me, pull me into an embrace that I craved, even though it made me so, so sad.
“You should not be here,” I wept against his skin. “You were not supposed to be here.”
Fly away, I wanted to beg. Even as I, ever the traitor, pulled him closer. Fly away from all of this.
I felt his back shudder with a broken inhale.
“They have nothing holding you anymore,” I said, between sobs. “There is nothing— nothing to make you stay.”
“Don’t.” His whisper was raw and throaty. And I felt his tears mix with mine, hot against my cheek as our bodies folded around each other. “Don’t be stupid.”
