"Friends just sleep in another bed"
"Friends shouldn't kiss me like you do."
"But my friends won't love me like you."
In which on the worst night of their lives, two best friends simply can't keep their hands off each other, and with...
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FIFTEEN - "I MEANT IT!"
"Dan?" The girl's meek voice croaked out, "Danny..."
With her heart in her mouth, Lyds Greystone crawled through the flood of crimson to her best friend, her lover, her twin flame, her hero and now - her dead boyfriend?
She willed it not to be true, felt her truth in every morsel of what she assumed would soon be her corpse; her determination refused to falter and her mind refused to believe it, not for a second, not even as she pulled him out of the elevator beneath his arms and back out into the hall. Not even when she could hardly even hear a breath from him.
She knew if Danny had died that he would've been accepting of his own demise, welcoming even, but the girl was never going to give him that option. Not when she could make the choice for him.
"Danny. I got you. Danny..." She mumbled, seemingly insane.
Begging him.
L begged for an eternity, a brief eternity spent with him and only him.
And then, his first breath broke the surface and just like that the blonde was hit by a second wave, but this time it wasn't one of blood, instead it became one of complete and utter unadulterated relief.
"Did I die?" Danny croaked out, his eyes bloodshot and pupils blown.
"You two are too alike." Beth smiled at her nephew, glancing between himself and Kassie, hiding away her own trembling limbs however best she could. She almost lost him too.
Lyds however didn't say a word, none would leave her, she could only release a single sob before she dragged Danny up into her arms, clinging to his upper body, cradling him, holding him - she'd never held him like that before.
She'd never dreamt she'd have to until then.
Oh her Danny, oh her poor fucking Danny.
His lover didn't even need to speak for Dan to know finally what she felt about him, what she felt for him, and so he grasped a hold of her too, feeling her shoulders, her neck, her jaw, her cheek, nose, forehead, lips.
He couldn't feel enough of her. She was alive. So was he. So was Kassie and Beth. They'd made it out.
So far.
He could've died back in the kitchen - the worst case scenario. He could've lay across the counter, stabbed in the chest and butchered by Bridget, accepting it, bleeding out all over the damn floor right in front of Kassie's beloved eyes. His Lyds could've died there too, her throat cut by Bridge when the knife had been meant for him in the first place, she could've had her ribs shattered by Ellie and suffocated on her own blood, she could've succumbed to the feeling of any single one of her injuries at any time. Any case could've just as easily become their reality than where they found themselves, but Danny Bixler knew, he fucking knew, that if any single one had ever spelled their fate then he would've made sure to feel her on him one last time, to drag himself home to her, to know that even in his dying moments, he was with her, he was safe, he was loved.
