Breathless

She stands there. Lost in the silence of the wind. A hundred miles away from Evan, her eyes seeking horizons that his heart has never even contemplated, as the summer breeze stirs the waves into lazy, grinning creases. And in that moment, he is breathless, the air in his lungs giving way to the spark of newborn fires and the sigh of the trees relenting their dew to the waiting arms of the grass. The life is gone from his body now, but it doesn't matter, because nothing really matters anymore; she is the only life he really needs.

They should be going home now. The disaster has been dealt with, the creatures all back where they belong, and no lives have been lost, which is always regarded as a bonus.

Somehow, though, he can't bring himself to disturb her.

They get little enough peace as it is. And her happiness is the sum total of everything he craves. They should be going home soon, but not now, not yet; he can afford a lingering few minutes here in the doorway of everything good and pure in life. Just watching. Watching and forgetting; forgetting that he is sad, that they both are, forgetting the blood on his hands, in his eyes, forgetting that this wistful gaze will never amount to anything, for she is a long way away, and she always has been, and he doesn't know how to pull her into his reality.

Before he can stop himself, he lifts his phone and closes his eyes and taps one finger against the button and remembers how to breathe. A tiny piece of this moment, broken off to be savoured long after it has passed him by; it is no more than a grain of sand stolen from a paradise beach of memories, but it is one more that will not fall victim to the hourglass, one fragment of time preserved forever with an unwilting, untarnished beauty. In this photograph, he will remain innocent and strong and preyed upon by solace, just as she will forever be wrapped in the tranquility she deserves, has always deserved without ever really knowing it, more beautiful than ever in her wordless storm of peace.

"Dylan," he calls her name, soft, sweet, endless, and when she turns around it feels like falling from a twenty-storey building.

"Time to go?" she asks, the regret that lines her eyes like lace teardrops mirrored in his own answering nod as she sighs. "Okay,"

"Sorry," Evan mutters without quite knowing what it is that he has to apologise for. Nothing, probably. Nothing and anything and everything. He turns away, thus missing the moment when Dylan's eyes flicker over to him with the same wistfulness corroding his own bittersweet poisons, a glance with all the words carved into it that he knows he will never have the courage to speak aloud; this is all that keeps them from being poetry rather than prose, for love is surely the most eloquent of all the writer's tools.

Turning away. Breathless, but breathing.

Alive.

As the sand begins a new, slow trek through the hourglass once more.

This fic is something of a prequel to a short story ebonyandunicorn wrote on Tumblr - unfortunately, I can't find the link to it now. I told her I'd write it a long, long time ago, and totally forgot, so here it is, belated but finished, and I really hope you enjoy it! More to follow soon, I hope, and if I ever find the fic that this is based around, I'll let you guys know. More to come soon! I have a brilliant idea for a Dyvan fic set in the verse of the novel ACID...hmm...it has potential.

- Disaster's Playfield.