Chapter Text
those empty bottles are filled with stories
of a lonesome heart, falling towards the moon
in search of more, in search of peace
you reach out into the middle of the night
hoping for answers, wishing on stars
whispering to the moon
eager to open up
with this overwhelming desire
to be heard
and maybe the pages in this book
are the ears that are worthy
of hearing your story
and maybe fate brought you here
maybe the universe knows
that your soul needed something
to get you through the night
maybe this is it
1:11am., r.h. Sin
“Please,” she gasps, even as her hands cling. “Please, please, please—”
And those words, spoken like a prayer, swell within her like a raging current. Everything crests, crashes, a rush that seems to never end. Her lungs, the skin between her hands, all of it tingles like the sting of salt water. She wants to drown in sensation. She can’t believe this is real, that it’s happening. Finally, finally, her heart chants. She can hear it, singing.
Through the curtains, moonlight shines through. Helpless like the tide, she pulls away, desperate for air. She wants – she wants – but looking is fine, too. Looking is beautiful, is gut-wrenching, is making her want to sob.
Swollen lips and hazy brown eyes.
Stay with me, stay with me.
It beats in time with I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
And then—
“No.”
It takes a moment to register, and then it burns. It burns like the first gasp of air after being underwater for too long. She’s lost at sea, finding her bearings.
And then, she says it again. “No.” The sound is wretched and grey. “I can’t…”
“What?” She blinks, hazy and slow with it until she understands. Until the momentum of crashing waves becomes more like a vicious riptide, sucking her in and suffocating. The burning within her does not stop. It’s made only worse by the very girl in front of her. Moonlight splashes across her pale skin, making her look cold and untouchable. Icy. But she’s never been afraid of the cold, and so she does not let go. Her thumb sweeps against a cheek; it’s warm, overheated. “What can’t you do?”
“Not this,” she says, and the burning— It’s gone. Smothered by a deluge, wrapped up and plunged into the ocean. Everything within her suffocates. “We shouldn’t do this.”
It hurts. It hurts and she’s drowned and she’s frostbitten. She pulls away.
Swollen lips. Dark eyes. Moonlight making her more beautiful than anything she’s ever imagined.
She’s going to be sick. Sick from alcohol, sick from kisses, sick from lo—
“Sometimes,” she whispers, “I wish you weren’t real.”