You.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

You stand there; mocking me, your face the very definition of disgust. I end the call, tears stinging the back of my eyes.

“What are you going to say?” Your voice drips with sarcasm, but in the light of the rising sun, you are beautiful. “That you ran out of pills?”

I don’t answer and you scoff. Typical. But it is true, I ran out of pills this very morning.

“Everyone is looking for you, you know that, right?”

“And who is looking for you?” I snap back, and the sunrise is no longer beautiful, the rays are hurting my eyes. “That’s right, nobody.”

You scoff yet again. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re the last person on this Earth that cares about me.”

My turn to scoff. “Is that a compliment?”

“No,” you cross your arms, staring at the lake, your eyes stubbornly fixed on the horizon.

“I don’t wanna forget,” I whisper, the truth that has been suffocating me ever since my fingers touched the bare plastic bottom.

“I know.” Your voice grows soft for once, your eyes finally leaving the sun. Your skin glows like him anyway. “Come here.”

Your embrace is warm, but your skin is frozen, as it has always been. I want to warm you, desperately transfer all of my heat to you, but I know I can’t.

We stand there for a while, watching the horizon turn pink and then yellow. Smelling you makes everything feel right again, your perfume lingers in my tongue, it tastes of ashes and firewood, yet you smell of honey.

“I love you,” I whisper, the truth I was afraid to say out loud, and I can feel you tense under my grip.

“I know,” you whisper back, “Always had.”

I just want to be numb again.

I pick canned food in the grocery store, as above us plays the video of my disappearance, begging the public for help. You scoff at my long, brown hair, now chopped short and dyed black.

“They’re going to find you, you know.”

“Shut up,” I growl, and the old lady at aisle number 5 looks at me like I’m mad. Maybe I am. All I had was a fire, and now it's gone.

“Next,” the cashier calls, ignoring you completely, and I stand there with three cans of food, right below the poster declaring me missing. “Terrible what happened to this girl, don’t you think?” he shakes his head at me, and for a second I think he knows, I think the whole world knows; how the old ladies whisper to each other, how that boy says something low to his mum.

“Why terrible?”

He shakes his head, his fair hair dancing about it. “Disappeared in the middle of the night, no trace behind, no traces of struggle. Horrible. She must be terrified, the poor thing.”

You let out a full out snicker, but the cashier doesn’t ever spare you a look, his eyes fixed on me, and my canned ravioli.

“Careful,” you warn, knowing me far too well, but you underestimate my ego.

“Have they found anything yet?”

“No, not a thing,” his voice grows solemn. “I pray for her.”

Now you laugh, a short chuckle, and then a series of snickers, your eyes shifting between me and him, and I want to shout at you to shut up, but the old lady is here again.

“So do I,” I reply, handing him my change.

“Be careful out there, miss,” he warns, bagging up my stuff. “You never know who anyone is.”

Now you smile right at him, but he pays you no mind. I thank him and head out, you right on my heels.

“Why do you always do that?” I snap at you, my voice low.

“Because, Vanessa, this is ridiculous,” you stretch each and every word. I always loved how you spoke my name, rolled each and every sound around your tongue; now I just want to slap you.

I curse you underneath my breath, my eyes stubbornly fixed on the road, not on you.

“Unfortunately, that’s anatomically impossible,” your voice sounds from behind me, and I want to smile, but I am mad, so mad at you. “Nessa, come on,” you drag the sounds, grabbing my hand, your fingers frozen to touch.

And I start to cry, full blown breakdown in the middle of the street, because my bottle of pills is empty; I am going to lose you tonight, the sun is nothing but my enemy, counting down the seconds I have left with you.

“Nessa,” you say low, crouching on my level, wrapping your arms around me. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not.” I sound like a baby throwing a tantrum; but honestly, I no longer care.

“Nessa, I don’t care, alright? We had our time.”

I just cry harder at your words; I wonder what the passer bys are seeing; a girl crying like mad in the middle of the street. “I don’t want you to go.”

“You promised; no more pills.”

“And what if I break that stupid promise?”

You don’t answer, just unwrap your arms from my shoulders; just standing there. “Nessa. Come on.”

I follow you, my cheeks still wet from all the tears, and the same old lady is now looking at me with pity. 

“Are you alright, girl?” she asks, and I nod. “Here, then,” she smiles, taking a packet of tissues from her bag, giving them to be. “It’s going to be alright,” she looks me in the eyes before walking away, and somehow hearing the very same words from a stranger makes it easier.

I promised; no more pills.

Back at our tent you smile; and I haven’t seen you smile since then.

The world is slowly going dark, your face illuminated in the candlelight, and I want to drink you up, never forget the way the light shines in your eyes, the black of it. You wrap me in your jacket and tell me stories of the old next to the fire; and I know, you are eternal, way beyond time and space.

I love you.

Your jacket is the first that disappears. 

Then you follow, but you’re smiling, eternal underneath the moonlight.

I smile back, my throat dry; and there is only the moon drinking the lake drop by drop.