Everything Sinister

Sixty-Four

Sinners Stay Sinners.

~LA

~

Crying fucking sucks. It burns your eyes like little fucking diamonds violently shoved in your eyeballs. You aren't able to open your eyes properly and the light is always too strong. Your head feels like a 250 pounds dude has been arranging your brain cells for the last twelve hours and there are salty streaks in your mouth and nose.

But the peace it followed... There was nothing purer than that peace Demont gave me. After last night I was quite alright with crying my black, dry, scrubby heart out.

I knew it was afternoon when I woke up. I stretched, the cold sheets wrapping around me, my muscles groaning and bones cracking. The sun was low on the horizon and Demont was nowhere to be seen. The bed was cold but his smell still lingered. I stood up and took Demont's sweatshirt.

Demont was in the kitchen. His back was tense and his head inclined like he was gonna throw up in the sink. I carefully walked up to him. He looked so vulnerable. His hair was tousled. He probably just woke up too. His beautiful golden eyes were empty and red. He cried. And it was true. Pink in one's eyes after crying really is the saddest thing in this sinister world.

He knew I was there. And I knew he knew. What we both knew too, was, I knew what he needed. Just like he knew what I had needed the previous night.

My nails gently grazed his scalp. Demont's eyes closed. My fingertips slid down his warm skin to his chin. I pulled him away from that sink he was gripping, his knuckles whitening. Our noses touched and I closed my eyes in silence. My hands slid slowly across his chest to his shoulder. I pulled him to me, our cheeks touching when I embraced him.

I embraced his unshed tears and those which have already fallen.

I embraced his fears and worries.

I didn't vow. I didn't promise. Because it was quite obvious I would always stay with my liar, my only love, Demont.

He hugged me tighter. I ran my fingers through his hair gently. I caressed his back and held him.

I didn't know what happened. I just... I just knew Demont was upset.

"Do you want to know what my fantasy is now?"

I smiled into his shoulder.

"Yes."

"A beach house. Just you and me. And every day... I would wake up next to you. Sunlight would fall down on us from big windows. We'd have white sheets and your black hair would be spread across them. I'd kiss you on your shoulder. Every morning. And you would look at me with those doey eyes you have, Love and I would tell you good morning. Every single damn day."

I hugged him tighter. I heard him laugh. I felt his sincerity in my chest and my own happiness in the corner of my lips.

"That is a hell of a fantasy."

~