Juliet almost laughed, bringing an arm around his stomach and squeezing him, inhaling large uneven breaths and wiping her tears on her bedsheets. He could feel her heart struggling a beat through her chest as she laid on him, and he gripped onto her shoulder, feeling his own breath become uneven, "Keep breathing, alright?"
All she did was nod to him, continuing on to her quiet sob. There were so many things he needed to say to her, so many things he still wanted to do with her. They made so many plans...
"Hey, remember when we were down by the lake last summer? How many fireflies did you catch?" she questioned him, looking at him again.
Michael had to look away from her torn face in order to form a reply, "It was at least thirty."
"Liar," she giggled, "I was thinking more along the lines of four or five. I was the one with thirty."
"You were the one who imagined you had thirty," he forced a laugh, "No, you're right. You had way more than me."
