How to Survive Your 19th Life [BL]

Prologue

"I love you," I say, for the first time, but also the 19th time. I am looking in Emiel's hazel, eyeliner-smudged eyes outside of Perkins Library, right at the center of campus. It is February 14th, Valentine's Day and I am confessing to the love of my life. I always end up here after every death, right as the words come tumbling out, unable to stop them.

When I first lived this moment, my nerves blocked out almost everything in my naive pursuit of love. I could barely think or hear anything over the pounding of my own heart. I prayed... prayed... that he would feel the same. That first time, my eyes remained focused on the snow below us.

After the first few deaths, I would think that if I had caught the crazed look in his eye on that first night, I could have avoided this endless cycle. But by now, I know it was inevitable.

"Do you, really?" Emiel says back. I remember now. Sometimes it takes me a moment to rebound after a death, especially a harrowing one like my 18th. The memory of it is always hazy for the first night. At least the pain doesn't stick around - my only solace. Well, except for the 12th Death.

I shudder. Snow billows down in sheets. My feet are numb from waiting outside for him. Emiel places a hand on my cheek, taking a step closer. I can feel his eyes burrowing into me, searching for something--I don't know. I can never truly know what he wants, what might cause the snap. It is always different.

I meet his gaze and say, "Of course. You didn't know?" I keep my voice soft, but not sweet. Being too sweet or loving is how I was burned alive on my 10th Death.

Emiel leans into me, smelling of whiskey and clean linen. His lips barely brush mine when I pull away. Before I can back away fully, he grabs the collar of my coat and holds me close to him. In my first life, I was almost busting through my jeans at this point, ready to take and be taken. We ended up tearing each other's clothes off behind some bushes, right on a patch of dirty ice packed with rabbit shit, grunting and thrusting until the ground looked like a splatter of cocoa puffs soaking in milk.

Now, however, I know that I can't let him have me too early, no matter how much his body, hands, and lips haunt me throughout my deaths.

"I know how you are with... others," I say, now keeping my voice worried. I look away, but he shakes me and I meet his eyes. I want to punch him in the face and fix my coat.

"What do you want, Sol?" he asks. I hear the helplessness, the desperation. Even now, he probably wants to gobble me up and spit out the bones.

"I want to talk."

"Talk about what?" He finally lets me go. I stuff my hands in my pockets.

"I want to talk about... us. Preferably some place warm."

Emiel huffs in amusement. "My placeis nearby."

"I'd like to go to my apartment. Finn isn't there, so we'll have the place to ourselves." My place, my territory.

He holds out his hand to me and I take it. He pulls me close to him as we walk to my two-bedroom campus apartment in the Sheridan Lofts building at the edge of campus.

I took this walk with him many times before. I can feel the darkness of his heart wrapping around both of us with each passing moment. The biggest set back for me is that no one remembers anything. Only me. And nothing stays entirely the same.

At least now, I finally have a plan to break free of my deaths and survive my 19th life.