But I don’t trust those words again, not yet.
“Found you.” Bohdan breathes, dropping his forehead to mine.
He did find me, I think. Then and now, and I wish he’d find me forever.
Bohdan
I don’t think Talon was thinking about anyone but himself when he picked the cruise itinerary.
He certainly wasn’t thinking about me and Sloan.
Or, if he was, it was probably something like, “Bohdan liked rocks in college and Sloan loves ancient shit—they’ll love Pompeii.”
He wasn’t thinking about the fact that we were already an eruption the size of Mount Vesuvius that left nothing but ash and dust in our wake.
He wasn’t thinking about the fact that we’re Pompeii, wrecked and dead and frozen in time.
He wasn’t thinking about the fact that somehow, we’d find each other again here, and against all my better judgement, because I love her more than anyone has ever loved anything in the history of the universe, I’d let her convince me to crawl up out of the rubble and go back in time for two days before everything erupts again.
It’s not lost on me when I watch the early-morning sun inch across her skin and her eyelashes flutter in her sleep, study her hands and her fingers where they’re curled into the pillow, and try to memorize the way her hair falls across her collarbone and how her nose twitches with these tiny snores I’d listen to on repeat from now into eternity.
It’s not lost on me when she blinks her eyes open, sleepy and slow. Or when her lips shift into a pout, when they open for mine, and my tongue meets hers, her legs wrapping around my waist and inviting me inside her, and we move together under the morning sun, languid and unhurried like we’ve got all the time in the world.
We don’t have any, not at all.
It’s the last day and tomorrow, she’s going to trade me the cup ring for a Polaroid I’d have died to keep and the answer to her question I’d have rather taken to my grave.
We’re the volcano, not dormant at all, and I feel the pressure building inside her when she starts to tighten around me, her moans into my neck are the shifting of tectonic plates, and I come when she does, but it’s her whisper against my ear that causes the eruption.
“I wish this didn’t have to end.”
Bohdan
Then - Seattle
You fell asleep early last night.
Yeah.
Oh. I just thought—when I came to bed—never mind, it’s stupid.
It’s not stupid, but I am.
Really fucking brutal and terrible actually.
Can’t skate.
Can’t see the sunlight without it causing me blinding pain like some sort of fucking vampire.
Can’t even hold a conversation with the person who has my heart in their palms.
Can’t do fucking anything.
My fingers tense against the porcelain rim of the sink, and I glance up at the mirror. I can’t see myself—it’s covered in steam from the shower, and usually that’d be for the best. I’m not a big fan of looking at my own reflection anymore, but I wipe the steam off and force myself to look today.
Hair matted to my forehead, but the angry red scar peeks out from underneath. Grey circles under my eyes because my sleep is all over the place. Hollow cheeks covered in unkempt stubble because I forget to shave most days.
I try to forget most things. That I should be playing. That I had a dream and it got stolen by a stupid accident. That I was the best. That I’m supposed to be closing in on records. That I should have almost a decade left of playing in me. That at the end of the day, it’s unfair because guys get hit all the time and this doesn’t happen to them.
