The air is cold, burning your checks as you run. Your legs are pumping, leaping, heart pounding, adrenaline up. You hear their voice, a burst of laughter as they try to keep up with you.
"C'mon, wait!"
"No!" You're stubborn. You want to spend as much time with them as possible. "We have to get there soon!"
You have a certain spot in mind, a clearing of trees, the perfect spotlight for the two of you. The packed dirt and grass will be basked in the moonlight, bright and familiar.
After a few minutes, you reach the area, huffing, chest dragging the breaths out. You're flushed, but happy. This is it. You are going to live in the moment, not think about what you are going to do when they leave.
You turn to them as they finally come to a stop. They're much more tired than you, weary as the tip of their fingertips start to blur.
"It's starting," they say quietly.
You take their other hand, looking into their eyes.
"It's ending," you correct them. "But it's going to be a happy one."
They smile, and you dread the moment those lips disappear too. "This is why I love you."
"I know," you say, pulling them closer. The moonlight turns their hair silver, and you can't drink in the moment in enough.
Your feet know where to step, how to maneuver easily. Their fingers slip around yours, and you can feel where they're turning to wisp. So delicate like they could be blown away from the slightest breeze.
You close your eyes serenely, hearing a song that isn't really there.
"I don't want to lose you," you say.
They don't answer at first. You can feel their warm breath on your cheek. "Midnight," they say. "We have until midnight."
"Until you're gone?" Your voice trembles s bit. It frustrates you. You're not supposed to mourn yet. You are supposed to seem them, hold them, and only think about them and the moment unfolding in front of you.
But you can't help it.
"Yes," they say softly. "Until I'm gone."
"Okay."
You dance with them, you dance under the stars. You dance until their fingers are gone, until their lips are the only thing left, kissing you gently on your forehead.
And you open your eyes for the first time in a full hour.
And they're gone.
It's like they were never there, no trace of them left. The only thing keeping you from doubting yourself is the lingering feeling in their lips on your skin.
It's colder, now, without them. Emptier, lonelier, scarier. The woods are watching you, anticipating your inevitable breakdown.
But you go home.
You go home and you do not cry.
You do not cry for people who are not real.
