Desi Destroya: A Killjoy Story

The Sharpest Lives

Rasta Blasta, alive.

He was alive!

Desi couldn't believe her eyes. The man she'd thought dead, when she couldn’t silence her fears, was alive. She had spent the last nineteen days grieving for him, the only Killjoy to truly have her heart, and he was right there, alive and breathing. Rasta was conscious, safe, and definitely not a Draculoid. Desi was fRosen with shock. Her mind was screaming. Go to him, stupid! Jump into his arms and kiss him like a woman who thought she'd never see her man again alive. He's your soul mate. Killjoys didn't doubt their hearts as much as people had back before BL/ind. Life was too short to break hearts, and to doubt was to spend useless seconds not living life to the fullest.

But no matter what her head was screaming, her eyes were telling her something else. His eyes were shadowed, and doubtful. It almost seemed like she was coming back from the dead to him, too. Only he was in even more disbelief than she was.

"Dizzy?" Rasta asked. He seemed worried, like if he dared touch her, she'd turn out to be a ghost. The look in his eyes told her too much. Rasta had been haunted by as many nightmares as Desi had, and they were probably more than flashbacks. He'd told her once, that before he started spending his nights under the sky with her, that he'd woken up every night, shaking from nightmares.

Desi swallowed. It was suddenly like the desert itself had crawled into her throat. "Ra--" she paused, licking her dried out lips. "Rasta?"

The change in him wasn't absolute, and it wasn't obvious. He didn't break out into his usual infectious grin, but the weight hanging his shoulders was suddenly lifted, and some of the shadows fled his eyes, to be replaced by a bittersweet happiness that spoke of his grief and his love all at once. His arms reached out, and finally, Desi's body became unglued. She dashed into his arms, and he pulled the cliché move she'd seen once with him on an old DVD when they'd shared the abandoned motel. He wrapped his arms around her and spun her around.

He kissed her, just once on the lips, and that was all he had to say.

"I'd thought you'd died, Ros. I wouldn't let myself believe it, but I was almost sure you were dead." Desi whispered fiercely into Rasta's ear as she held him tight.

Rasta gently pulled her away to look into her ocean blue eyes. "You know that even being called to march in the black parade could not have stopped me from coming back to say goodbye, at the very least." He said it with such conviction; no one could have denied that he meant every word.

Desi slowly slid down Rasta's body to place her feet on the dusty desert ground. "You'd be ashamed of who I've been the past few days. I was losing hope in everything. I almost forgot what it means to be a Killjoy...: She trailed off, and buried her face in his shirt, fighting tears.

A hand gently brushed her hair. "I could never be ashamed of you, Dizzy," Rasta said. "Even if I was gone, you would have snapped out of it and given BL/ind everything you had. Three cheers for sweet revenge, even though seeing you alive is even better than I could have hoped for. I was just as unsure about you, as you were about me, Desi." Rasta laid his head on hers, and they simply stood there together, glad to know they were safe, alive, and together.

A tap on Desi's shoulder ended the quiet moment. "I don't want to interrupt you," Candy whispered. "But, my sister wanted to see you, and all the Killjoys are anxious to go meet up with the Fabulous Killjoys."

Desi peeled herself away from Rasta to face Candy, only to have him grab her hand, threading his fingers between hers. “Well, it seems this man is unlikely to let me out of his sight anytime soon, so she'll have to see us both." Candy smiled.