I turned, seeing the ice pick skewering his neck. He made a horrific gargling sound, blood spilling from his mouth and down his chin.
“Paris!” I cried this time, taking hold of him.
No. No. No. No. No.
I lowered him to the floor, cradling his head in my lap. The life left his eyes, his final breath a disgusting rattle.
He went limp.
No. No. No. No. No.
What if death caught this time?
“Oh my,” Elio rasped.
“Come back now,” I said, stroking his hair. I refused to believe this would be his final moment.
Guilt drove nails into me for everything I’d done to hurt him.
My spark…
I wanted to make things better for him, to keep him safe so his bright aura would always shine.
The world needed him. I needed him. And I couldn’t live with the regret of not…of not making him mine.
Goodness. I think…I think I’m falling…falling…
“Wake up,” I pleaded, my eyes burning with sorrow. “Come back to me. Please come back.”
I need you…
I think I’m falli?—
The world seemed to skip like a stuck needle on a record. He was no longer in my lap, but gasping for air on the sofa.
I scurried to him, taking him by the face. No wounds, no blood. Only him.
Alive.
“Fuck…” he wheezed. “I died again.”
Overwhelming gratitude flooded my system. “You’re here.”
“Yeah…” he rasped.
I rested my forehead against his. “You’re here.”
His hands found my sides. “And sweetcream.”
I longed to kiss him, to fly him out of here and hide him from that filth forever.
“What do we do now?” Medusa asked gently.
I wanted more minutes like these with Paris, I wasn’t ready to do anything but be in this moment.
“Shall we go straight for Elio’s parents?” Paris asked in a shaky tone. “Fuck the laws.”
We should have done that in the first place. Once again, I’d made a bad decision. All in the name of keeping a low profile, which was now bone ash on the wind.
