SMEAR IT SPLENDID
Fall on me, tell me everything you want me to be -Rob Thomas, Ever the Same
Forever with you, forever in me, ever the same.
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It was a flurry of light and sky and earth, flashing before her eyes.
She was falling, falling, falling, and she had nothing to hold on to… is it too late? Oh is it too late to say goodbye? Heaven have mercy, have mercy on her…
Suddenly, a hand from the vanishings, reaching out and clutching her wrist.
The sun, the sun too bright, it burned and she was hanging on a thread of fate and if he ever let go she would be lost, doomed… all this if he ever let go.
But he didn't. He wouldn't, ever.
And he smiles, he smiles, oh how he smiles! The grin that endeared him to her in the first place, in the beginning of it all! So carnal, so feral, so wild and sweet…
"I've got you."
Splatters of red stained the ground and her body tumbled on the rocks; the tears and imprints on her skin would have stung if she hadn't already been numb to the pain that pierced through her frame.
"Come on… let's dance."
The music is soft and enticing, and the moon shined and cast its pallor and splendid reflection; oh it was too cliché to be true, so perfect to be real, but it was, it was.
The contact of his arms around her waist and his fingers absently, tenderly twirling her hair was intoxicating, tingling, and all the pleasant encompassing emotions in the world, and her affections couldn't have been won more rightly.
They swayed to the song that could have been nonexistent, danced in the night that could fade away, but the feelings were there, and there still they remained.
There was one hovering over her, a menacing one, with evil and malevolence radiating off his frame. A killer's stance, the assassin of grace and macabre moves, fresh in her mind.
"Remember? You thought me how to fly."
He stretched his arms to absorb the heat, the rays, the blowing breeze, and he laughed.
He takes her by the hand and stands her up, willing her to imitate him. Her gaze rested on the entirety of him, and she thinks it must not be normal to care so much for someone that it hurt, oh how it hurt her inside.
"See? Like this, this is freedom. Enjoy it with me. Be free, hime, be free."
The ruthless figure chuckles dryly, still wicked, still sinister, and she sees the glint of the blade's edges when it caught the light.
"Why did you do that? Why?" His wrath resounded in his snarl, and she retreated within herself, so scared and feeling so small.
She wished to say 'stop' to cease the yelling she deserved, 'I'm sorry' to carry her apology across the din of tension and let him, make him understand, and 'please forgive me' so he'd forget this and just please, please remember something else, please erase this from your memory because I made a mistake and I swear, I swear, I promise you I'll never put that frown on your face again.
But all her words refused to be said, balancing so delicately on the tip of her tongue, and when his rage subsided she saw the sadness, and it was even worse.
She extended her hand and she hoped that he would still accept her touch despite her flaws and imperfections because nothing is what we'd ever hoped them to be… then her fingertips quivered when they rested on his skin and now there are gleams of forgiveness in his eyes and he hasn't sent her away and she's glad, oh she's glad. Because she wouldn't have known what to do without him, and it is only now that she realized how much she needs him, she needs him, she does, she does, and she's only too happy he understands.
She sinks into him once more and she tangles herself in him because then she'd drift away and he is her refuge, her home; and though his embrace is still reeling and slightly detached she closes her eyes and breathes into what was oxygen to her, and all she could think about was that 'I'll never let you down again,' and she punishes herself for not saying it out loud.
Her pulse throbs hungrily, licking at the insides of her throat, and she knows her adversary is watching how much her blood longed to be freed, and she too, knows well that it is where he'll let the blade drag across her skin.
"Don't you…" A cough. "Ever, ever, ever even think about…" Spurts of blood. "Suicide, no, not for me…" Eyes glazing over. She heard someone crying in the distance; soft and echoing and tragic. Maybe they were angels; but lo, the voice, the murmurs, the trembling tone was too human. Human and... maybe familiar, oh-so familiar…
Behold! The cries issued from her own mouth as she pressed his palm to her cheek, smelling of sweat and dust and defeat.
"…never for me."
He's going limp in her grasp, and her heart is breaking in her chest, and she wants desperately to hold him like he held her, like he held her…
The wind is fierce and dries the tears quickly, and the enemy's hot on their (no, only hers now, only hers) trail. She must leave, she knows she must, she must… but could she?
One last, one fleeting look behind; he, lying there, he, bleeding to death, he, crumbling her heart forever, and she runs away.
The demon is crouching down, and her doom is impending, but then a flash, quick as lighting, and the infernal creature with its ever-dangerous atmosphere was a good distance away, and it is only when she recognizes the heaving breath of the savior in whose arms she felt the safest. Oh, it was none other than he whom she thought dead, whom she mourned for even as she made her escape, whom she was going to meet when she'd met her death!
"Touch her again, I dare you!" He roared, voice laced with indignant fury, unconsciously keeping her closer with every syllable that formed the threat.
(How could she have missed his chest still rising, still moving when she left him? He was alive, so gloriously alive!)
Their would-be slayer gave a malicious snigger, mighty and haughty as ever.
"Oh, it's you again! I thought I had killed you, and that she left you for dead!"
(The tendrils of red creeped through her neck, her face beaming hot with shame. Such spiteful words, but true, all true! How could she?)
"Bastard!" He was raving now, shaking from the anger than coursed through his veins, mingling with his blood. "You'll pay for that!"
Gently, he set her down, and fell into his battle position, despite what critical condition he was in.
(Fear gripped her entire being; he was going to fight, even with the open wound on his side, he was going to fight, for her, all for her! Oh, what had she done?)
Her eyelids were screwed shut, with exhaustion or a great anxiety, she wasn't certain, but she could hear his fuming yells and the high-pitched clashes of metal. Her eyes ached to pry open, to see him, to see him only.
Then... an agrrieved shout. The most unsettling aspect was that she didn't recognize it. The brawl was over, but who had won?
(Victory meant nothing to her now; an empty, hollow word. All she wanted was for him to be alright, please let him be alright, please don't let her lose him again...)
There were footsteps coming towards her; slow, excruciatingly slow... it seemed like she'd waited so long; her lover or her killer?
"Hello there princess..." The nickname was horrid when slurred on someone else's lips. She screamed.
(No, no, no this could not be happening; he wasn't gonegonegone forever! He always stood up when he was struck down, always, always, always... he couldn't have left her like she regretfully did him! No, please, it can't be! Please let it be a dream, please, please, please... let him still be there, or let her die instead.)
Then the terrible sound of a blade penetrating flesh, that telltale eruption when lifeblood sprayed from an injury, then a heavy thump right beside her. She imagined eyes rolling backwards, mouths foaming, and limbs shaking violently from post-rigor mortis spasms.
Heated fingers brushed her forehead, and she wanted to stay in this moment because nothing, not wealth or fortune or even heaven above would have been sweeter than this eternally abrupt moment, where reality had to rush back in.
(What if all this was just a cruel trick of fate to fool her again? To make her believe he was there when he wasn't? She so dreadfully wanted this to be true, it had to be, it had to be true. What unknown time would welcome her when she opened her eyes? There were only two choices; a heaven without him would be hell all the same!)
She felt moisture on her eyes, hot and presumably salty, tears, and there came sobbing, torn between terror for what could have been and joy for what was now, and her eyes fluttered to the sight of his imperfect, battered face, and her heart contracted with the same emotions. They were alive.
She put a hand to cup over a colored bruise on his cheeks, tracing a finger over sliced lips to wipe away the blood, and, she whispered, for comfort and for remembrance, "Hush. We're both here; that's all that matters."
And then he smiles, he smiles, oh how he smiles.
fin
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