Authors Note: I've split up the final milestone of 20,000 words into 2,000-word parts + an epilogue. I hope y'all enjoy it.
I made a futile attempt to fight against the egg breath, but she continued to lean into me, making the two of us fall onto the ground. I giggled, gently caressing the tip of her nose before leaving a peck. Moving my lips all over her face, I noticed that she slowly began getting back up. Phlegmatically, she continued to press our lips together, overlooking the fact that the windows were wide open. I felt a few tingles brush my spine, her lips instigating a plethora of sensations. Reposefully, she pried our lips apart, her eyes still closed from the motion.
"Is that enough of an apology, my love?" She questioned, wrapping her forearms around my waist.
"You could do a little more," I eyed suggestively, undoing the buttons on my shirt.
"Are you suggesting we make love right here? With all of our neighbors watching? Because if you are, I might just be bewitched," Cleo said, pushing her hands against my sides.
"That's exactly what I'm saying," I responded, leaning onto her arms.
Chuckling, she began kissing me with even more vigor. Cleo ardorly removed my shirt, her fingers beginning to loop around my skirt. She began unbuttoning them, my legs moving swiftly to shake the clothing off.
I threaded my fingers around her clothing, trying to find the hooks keeping her fully clothed, Hastily, I undid them, removing my lips from hers to get it off. Left in our underwear, we stroked every inch of each others' skin, the tension fastening around our throats.
She propped me back up, beginning to take off the bralette I had on. Her fingers - accompanied by her lips- traveled everywhere, making my knees weak. I trembled, pulling her on top of me, and kissed her even harder. She smirked, resuming everything that could make me run mad. She began undoing my underwear as well, my fingertips working to take her bra off.
..
"It's better if I left Cleo. It was an amazing night, and I will continue to be indebted for all of your love. I bid you a sorrowful goodbye, my love, and I will mold myself into parchment," Bette continued, shaking away the grip of Cleo's hand.
"Can't we meet like this every time you come here?" Cleo asked, hoping that fate could reunite them.
"I wish we could, but Dion will get suspicious. I'm afraid that any more of our interactions here will end up becoming stolen glances and unnecessary small talk."
"Anything more, Bette? Anything?"
"No, Cleo. We've missed our ship. Goodbye, Cleo. I'll miss you," Bette whispered, leaving a searing kiss on Cleo's cheek.
She watched her walk away, back into the ballroom, and disappear away. A sharp pain occupied Cleo's chest as the night came back to her. All she could remember was the accident, and how she'd left without saying goodbye.
..
"Though I thoroughly enjoyed that, we need to get back to packing, my love. We leave in 3 hours, and my apartment is a total mess. So, if I may place a request, could you please put some clothes on so I don't get distracted?" I asked, watching her sit in a blanket.
Lighting a cigarette, I made a futile attempt to separate the laundry. She was still on the table, waiting for me to begin again.
"So, you'd categorize me as a distraction? That's awfully demeaning considering the fact that I just gave you the best sex of your life," she chuckled, loosening her grip on the eiderdown.
"That's precisely why you are such a distraction. You make me want to relive it all over again, every minute of my day," I responded, turning around to face her again. My lips parted and made an involuntary noise, eyes stunted from her. Her body was completely bare. My lips struggled to keep the cigarette, my jaw threatening to fall. Stammering, I somehow continued, "And that doesn't involve flashing yourself to me and the aperture again, my love."
"Alright, but you suck and I feel used and I don't like this. You owe me!" She retorted, clearing the couch to try to find her clothes.
"I'd never even attempt to do that, my love!" I yelled, stuffing a few more shirts into my suitcase.
It was pushing to six, and I decided that it was best to leave the house then. Making some quick oatmeal, I gobbled it down, waiting for Bette to get fully clothed and eat a quick dinner.
She came out of the bathroom, hair still wet from the shower. I gave her a cigarette-laced kiss, handing her the bowl of oatmeal before gathering all of our belongings.
Waiting in silence, I made a mental list of everything that we had and still needed. Thankfully, everything had been checked off.
We left the flat, leaving the keys underneath the owner's house mat. Walking out, there was a rush of people traipsing around the roads, looking for a ride back home. I checked my watch and time was running out like no other.
Struggling to navigate the rush of people, we managed to catch a taxi to the harbor. Opening the door for her, I could tell that she was nervous because her shoulders were tighter than usual.
Getting into the vehicle, I placed an arm on her thigh, whispering encouragement through my lips. Her eyes were dotted with faint tears, hand placed on her forehead.
I could tell that she didn't get much sleep either, her eye bags more prominent than usual. I let her rest her head on my shoulder, hearing a soft snore as she dozed off. Fatigued, I closed my eyes, dreaming of our final destination.
Half asleep, I could still hear the sounds of the cars withering away in the background. I tried to ignore it, but it continued to get louder. It was either a honk or somebody yelling. Neglecting it, I attempted to fall asleep, but something in my mind prompted me to open my eyes, and I froze. We'd missed a traffic light, hurdling through the middle of an intersection.
It happened so slow, yet so fast:
We sped through a flurry of cars, but something came towards us, banging against the side of the taxi. The driver couldn't get much control of the vehicle, the impact beginning to hit him. I couldn't shake Bette awake, but I managed to cover our heads, watching our taxi toppling upside down. Glass shattered everywhere, and I felt a sharp pain prod the left side of my head.
My first instinct was to take care of her, so I turned my body to face her. I saw Bette's eyes open wide, traumatized at the sight of blood running down my head.
"Cleo-" she whispered, hoarsely.
"We're okay, my love. We're okay," I responded, my hands cupping her cheeks.
"You're bleeding. What happened?" She asked, slowly brushing away some of the blood through tears.
"We missed a traffic light. Another car hit us and we couldn't stay standing."
"What time is it?"
"8:30"
"We're going to miss the boat."
"That doesn't matter. What matters is that we're safe, my love."
"This doesn't necessarily seem safe."
"I wouldn't say it is, either."
"What if we don't make it?"
"Don't say that!"
"If I don't make it?"
"I won't either."
"If I don't make it-"
"No, Bette you're going to make it. You'll make it, and this will become a story we'll tell our kids in twenty years."
"If I don't make it, I just want these to be my last words."
"Please don't say that Bette. Please. I can't live without you, so please don't die when I can't even hold you."
"I love you, Cleo. I love you so much. I'll dream for us to be reunited someday. I'll wait for you until the end of time. The past seven years have been the best of my life, and they've only been because of you. Thank you for everything. Thank you for your stories, and your soul. Your support for anything I've written was blissful. If I die, take another boat by yourself. Go live your life. Marry another girl. I'll wait for this in another life. If I have to die in your arms, I won't be sad. Other than that, I'll hope to see you soon, mon amour," she said, placing a final kiss onto my lips. Still smiling, I saw her beginning to struggle.
"I won't love anyone who isn't you. I can't. Please don't leave me alone, Bette. Please, fight. Please fight for me. Please don't leave me without saying goodbye. I can't lose you too," I cried, watching blood ooze out of her ears. Her breath became threadier, life flowing out. I kept kissing her without thinking, hoping that I could work to resuscitate her. Eventually, I placed her closer to my chest, continuing to whisper to her.
-
All I could feel was pain. I yelled at the nurses to keep her next to me, but they refused to listen. She was rushed into surgery and all I could do was wait.
My injuries were mostly internal. I had a few lacerations they stitched up. Refusing to eat, I'd linger around the windows of her room, waiting for her to recover. I used the time to sew something, listening to the doctors talk about her condition.
I watched as she opened her eyes for the first time, even saying a few words. She asked for me, but the nurses refused to let me go near her, keeping me confined in my room.
The doctors told me that I'd need to fix my injuries too, giving me directions for my surgery. I said goodbye before they wheeled me through, taking me into the surgical room.
They gave me anesthesia and asked me to count to ten. I obeyed, watching the world go darker until I saw no one but her.
"Bette?"
"Hi, my love."
"Where am I?"
"My dreams."
"Are you alright?"
"Could be better. I could use you, though."
"They kept me away. Something about inappropriate relationships."
"They're scared that we're going to infect the world with our plague."
"A love-filled plague, that is."
"Paranoid neurotics."
"Our love couldn't be barred, and that's their problem."
"What are you doing?"
"Being dug into by some doctors."
"That was fun."
"I'm scared, Bette."
"Aren't we all."
"What if I don't make it?"
"Then you don't."
"What if either of us dies?"
"We'll see each other in the afterlife."
"What if we don't?"
"In another life, then."
"When can I see you?"
"Whenever fate permits."
-
My parents were hovering over me when I opened my eyes. I blinked, trying to differentiate my dreaming. My mother was making a pot of tea, and my father was reading a newspaper. It resembled my childhood, but they looked tired, more exhausted than I could ever remember.
"Mom?" I asked, her back facing me.
"Oh, Cleo! You had me worried sick! Why couldn't you tell us that you were in New York? We searched everywhere for you!" My mother cried, kissing me before muttering away in French.
"Why are you here?" I questioned, her face falling.
"You abandon us for seven years, spend my money, get into an accident, whore around with some irrelevant girl, and you still dare to ask us why we're here? Why do you think we're here, Cleo?" My father spat, standing up from his chair.
"We're here to take you back with us, dear," my mother whispered, placing her hand onto my thigh.
"I'm not coming," I responded, turning away from them.
"You don't have a choice, young lady. I gave you one, years ago, and you've wasted it. I'm not letting you become another complaint for me to deal with. You have five hours. Pack everything you need. Our ship leaves in a few hours. And don't worry, we will continue your restorative care in France," he said, checking his watch.
"You don't own me. I'm an adult. If I don't want to go back, I'm not going back. Besides, the love of my life is here," I murmured, his face filling with rage.
"Who exactly would that be, my dear?" My mother asked, going back to her nosy ways.
"Bette," I said, watching her struck with horror.
"Alright. I did it once, but I didn't expect that you'd need another one. No daughter of mine will engage in fag behavior. Either come with us or lay your deathbed," my father continued, grabbing the tea from my mother's hand.
"Is this your ultimatum? A literal life or death for someone I love?" I asked, scoffing.
"Yes," they replied harmoniously.