She dreams of an endless sea. She dreams of eternity.
Memories ebb and flow like the high tide obeying the moon.
It's maddening. Then enlightenment. Then madness again.
The waters have much to give, and much to take. They show her the terrible, fleeting glory of an ocean full of life and yet she feels like she is forever drowning, sinking in a watery grave that can never end her.
She dreams of exhaling her last breath and inhaling water so her other half can do the opposite. So her better half can live.
She is one with her element. Eternal and endless. Is she now just an object in another's story? Who needs friends and family when you are an almighty ocean.
Infinite power without purpose is a prison.
***
She wakes to find him staring at her, lips parted and brow furrowed. His eyes are bloodshot and tired.
"It was my fault," she insists because she doesn't know what else to say, what else she can say.
Her grip loosens, trying to get away, to hide, but he pulls her closer against him instead. "You are not allowed to talk like that. Power of positive thinking, remember?"
"Easy for you to say."
He doesn't respond. Just stares at her, and then he kisses her forehead.
Her heart sinks, but it also warms. She thinks she might cry again, but she doesn't want to ruin the moment. So she closes her mouth and waits patiently for another kiss. When it comes it's gentle and sweet, but she feels it in every part of her body. Like she'll never be whole until she sees his lips press onto hers properly, and the rest of him follow suit.
So when she opens her mouth to ask for more, she gets it.
They're in his bedroom, lying together on top of the covers and pillows and blankets and towels and everything else. They've fallen asleep on each other several times over these past weeks. Only this time she knew it was going to happen, so she didn't fight it. After everything that has happened, they are so exhausted anyway, so she didn't bother asking him to move. Besides, she likes having him so close. Not that she needs any sort of excuse to be near him.
They've become inseparable.
She wraps her arms around his neck and nuzzles into his chest, letting her cheek brush along the soft fabric of his shirt.
"Don't fall back asleep yet," he warns softly.
"Why?"
He rolls her slightly towards him, so she can see his eyes better. She smiles when she notices the dark smudges beneath them. "Because I'm not done kissing you."
A small laugh escapes her throat. She can hear the smile in her voice when she asks, "Are we still pretending like I won't wake up tomorrow?"
"If you say yes, I will pretend with you," he teases.
"Promises, promises," she jokes back. She likes being able to joke again, to momentarily forget that there is this looming rift between them. That she died for a year. That her disappearance left him shattered beyond repair.
When his lips touch hers, she forgets how to breathe.
This time he doesn't wait for permission, which is probably a good thing since she doesn't give him any. His tongue slips inside of her open mouth and tastes like mint, but that's not important at the moment. All that matters is that she finally taste what she's been wanting to feel for months, a whole year. She lets her legs slip off of him and wrap themselves tightly around his hips. The heat radiating through his body is intoxicating, and the sound of his breath rushing out of him makes her toes curl. This isn't some dream. It's real and she's feeling it fully. Every inch of her wants to devour him and he gives it willingly, pushing himself deeper into her grasp.
After a few minutes he breaks away from their kiss to catch his breath. A moan escapes his lips when she moves lower and presses her lips firmly to his neck.
"N-no fair," he groans.
She laughs lightly and continues trailing hot wet kisses across his neck, stopping when she finds a sensitive spot below his earlobe.
He grabs handfuls of her hair and holds her in place when she tries to continue down his shoulder.
"Not there," he growls, pulling her back up to his mouth where he resumes his assault on hers.
Their breathing becomes heavier, faster. Their hands wander freely, finding places on each other they hadn't noticed before. He runs his fingertips over the curve of her hip and then dips them between her thighs. Her knees tremble as she pushes herself further against him, desperate to feel more.
She wants this, she wants something real, something tangible. She wants to hold him tight and never let go.
"I can tell that you need to rest," he murmurs once they break apart.
She doesn't want him to stop but knows he is right.
"Fine," she concedes.
He brushes his knuckles across her cheek before rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.
She sits up carefully, careful not to disturb him, but she can tell he senses her movement. When she crawls back in beside him, she settles in behind his arm and curls up against him. He sighs deeply and turns his head toward her. His fingers trail down her spine and end at the base of her tailbone. She tilts her head back to look at him, smiling faintly when she notices the large bruise forming on the underside of his jaw. They've only just begun to take inventory of all their injuries from the whirlwind of last few weeks.
She kisses it tenderly. "You okay?"
"Fine," he mutters before turning away.
She frowns and scoots closer, pressing her cheek into the crook of his neck. "Is that all you have to say?"
He chuckles quietly and squeezes his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "It's okay for me to not talk too much when I'm tired. Shocking, I know."
"Really?" She sounds surprised despite her lack of words. Perhaps she is also too tired for this familiar banter.
"Yeah."
She snuggles in closer to him, listening to his steady heartbeat as she drifts off to sleep. She wishes she could stay awake longer, but exhaustion wins out eventually.
This time she dreams of him, mostly. Of the moments spent holding her after she woke up crying, or running his hands through her hair during one of their many arguments. The ones where he tried to convince her otherwise and she couldn't seem to let go of her stubbornness. Or the times he held her close when she felt lost or alone. Those were the best nights.
In her mind, they were always perfect. In reality, they weren't quite so flawless.
But that doesn't stop her from trying to rewind time whenever she can.