cascade | kotlc

38. The Day We Choose to Die

Is that all?

Yes, I think it is. You have done well.

If it pleases you.

- J. R.

"June."

Six days, and, god, how her heart blossomed when she heard that voice.

Her lips part, tremble, shake and quiver, and her brain has fried itself, a lightning current running through her neurons and down her spinal cord and to her nerves, and god, god, god, he's here, he's here again!

"Shh," he whispers. "Hey, hey, I'm here, June-"

She practically trampled him with a hug, and all her tears, all the water she'd been saving for what seemed like that past century, it all came down, bursting from its dam and running down in surging streams and waterfalls. She cried, cried, cried out all her sorrows and pain and anger into his shoulder, and it was as warm as she remembered.

His arms wrapped around her, and she hugged him closer to her, determined to take every inch of his warmth, enjoy the blissful summer as she buried her face into his, sobbing and shrieking and breaking.

"You're back, you're back, you're back," she cried, cradling his body and his head and his chin in her hands. "I- I thought- you're back, you're back, you're back, you're back, I- you're back..."

Fitz had the audacity to smile at her, placing his hand on her shoulder, his honey-sweet lips parting. "Yes, I'm back, June..."

A scream, louder than any violin in the world, shrieking that celebratory note, the 666, the yes, the go, god, he was back, yes, yes, yes. Yes, it was him, she remembered his chiseled chin and ruffled hair and broad shoulders, and his ocean-deep teal eyes, so teal, even brighter than she remembered, it was him standing in front of her, in all his reality, yes, he was back.

What should she say, what should she say, should she repeat those promises she made to his Wanderling or scold him for his disappearance and supposed death or cry and scream and use him as a pillow, god, god, there was so much swarming, swarming, like wind churning in a vortex, messing up every corner of her mind, he, he was back, she couldn't believe it, back, back, he was back.

"Please don't leave me again," she shivered, loosing the breath of wind from her mouth, and fear flashed briefly over Fitz's teal eyes, followed by regret and sympathy, and then determination, bright as steel.

"I will not," he promised, taking her hand and holding it close. "I promise, I swear, I promise, I will never, ever, leave you again."

Her mind screamed, her body screamed, the wind screamed too, lifting up in spires of cool air and whishing across her shoulders with a great puff, dancing over her shoulders and skipping up her hair. Fitz put out his hand and caressed her face, and it was the sweetest and softest touch in the world.

His leaned close, so close, and pressed his lips to hers, momentarily, for only an instance, yet it spoke volumes, thousands of texts and scriptures, all the words June herself couldn't say, and he said it all:

I would do anything for you.

You are the most important person in my life.

You make me happy.

You make my life worth living.

You make everything alright.

You are beautiful, powerful, compassionate, kind.