At first, nothing changed. Then a streak of light, so fast she almost missed it. Another followed. Then three more. Within seconds, the sky was full of them, hundreds of shooting stars streaking in every direction like the cosmos had caught fire.
“It’s the dragon’s fire,” Avery said.
An almost childlike smile came to Avery’s face. It was beautiful. She hadn’t seen it since she was a child. Her dad had been the one to show her; he took her up to the highest hill in Caerwyn, and they had pointed at the stars long after she should have been in bed. Since then, she had avoided it. Avoided the pang of grief that would have gone through her. But standing there now, she felt none of that. Perhaps in caging her grief, she had lost more than just letting it fly free.
When her eyes wandered back to Felix, he wasn’t looking up but staring straight at her.
She wanted to squirm under his intense gaze; instead, she held her ground. “At least that’s what they told us.”
“We were told the same.” His voice came out quieter than before, laced with the same grief that festered within her. “I watch it every year.”
He went to open his mouth again before stopping, deciding against whatever he was about to say. She wanted to press him, to find out every little thing about him. But the pain ran down the bond; it was something she knew all too well. Instead, she just sat with him. Sometimes it was all that was needed.
“My father and I used to watch it together.” An unguarded smile formed on his face, like he was recalling the same memory that she had. “But I’m glad I get to watch it with you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Avery spotted movement near the base of one of the arches. Felix followed her line of sight as they both watched a fluffle of dust bunnies doingsomething. They maneuvered back and forth, gathering dust from somewhere and wriggling around the floor until she realized that they were trying to spell something.
N-o-w k-i-s-s.
Oh my goddess. Of all the things.
A laugh broke her line of thought, before a gust of wind swept away their hard work, sending specks swirling around the tower. Even the goddess seemed desperate for them to have this. To take what little time they had left.
Felix’s hand came up slowly, giving her time to pull away. He hesitated for a moment as if she would pull away. But when she didn’t, his palm curved against her cheek. Her lips parted at feather light touch. She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to; she was utterly transfixed by him. And when he moved his calloused thumb across her lips, she couldn’t stop the gasp fromtumbling from her. Every nerve came alive, yearning to be joined with his.
For a heartbeat, he just stood there, thumb resting at the corner of her mouth as if thinking about something. Time ticked by agonizingly slow, her heartbeat roaring in her ears before she heard the two words that broke her.
“Fuck it,” he said.
The first kiss was gentle, tentative; his mouth barely brushing hers like a test. As if he were asking heris this okay. She wanted to tell him that it was, that everything he did was just perfect. But before she could answer, Felix’s lips crashed into hers like a man starved. Despite the cold, a wildfire spread through her, consuming every thought that this would never work. It burned and burned as he deepened the kiss, but still it wasn’t enough. She needed him, needed his touch, needed him to hold her. Not just now; she needed him for longer than just this second. Until she was bleeding and raw. Until he left marks on her that would still be there in years to come. If he was a cut, she desperately hoped it scarred.
Still, their bodies didn’t touch. That gap between them existed. Wide enough to remind them that this would never work. Even the very wind itself was determined to push them apart, roaring through them like a tunnel. But Avery never listened to the weather; instead, she embraced it. How many moments would she miss for the fear of something out of her control?
Gently, Avery put her hand up to the nape of his neck, sliding her hand between his collar.
He jerked back like she had burned him, putting more distance between them than was necessary. His breaths came ragged, shoulders moving up and down with the effort. Everything gentle about his expression had gone. He looked like a cornered animal, eyes wide and searching hers.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking another step back. “I can’t.”
Her chest constricted as his hand started toward his throat, then stopped. She wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it would all be okay. Instead, she gave him space as he dropped into a crouch, running a hand through his hair.
She kneeled across from him, close enough that if he wanted to reach out, he could.
Each one of his breaths came faster than the last as he fought a war in his mind. She didn’t know what memory had him by the throat, but she recognized the shape of it, knew what it looked like when the past dragged you under. Her chest flooded with anxiety, but she realized quickly that it wasn’t hers; it was his.
“Breathe,”she pushed the word down the bond.
His eyes snapped up to hers, wild and full of emotion swelling within him. Avery closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of her own, and pushing her feelings of calm down the bond, just as he had done for her. She didn’t tell him it would be okay, or that things would get better, or that this would be over soon. She said none of that; she only held him without touching him. Just being there was enough for his breathing to start evening out.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring right at her. “Thank you,” he said simply.
It was the least she could do when he had done it for her so many times. And while she could usually claw her way back to calm on her own, having someone else there while she worked through the emotions herself, helped. She’d been alone long enough that admitting she needed that felt like weakness. But she did need it.
“When I was young…”
“Felix, you don’t have to.”
A tentative silence filled the air, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t say anything.
