Coffee and Cream

The Staying

DARCELLE

I always found myself circling back to death when I was with Emrys. It wasn't just a passing thought. It was like a constant drumbeat in the back of my mind, one I couldn't shake. And with Emrys, I didn't have to. We talked about it—no judgment, no awkwardness. He just... got it.

I was sitting on the daybed of my balcony, knees pulled to my chest, watching the sky darken into that deep shade of blue that meant night was closing in. Emrys sat next to me, casually eating a basket of barbecue wings like he didn't have a care in the world, while my mind spiraled. His presence was grounding in a way, but also unnerving. He had this calmness about him, even when we were talking about things that most people would shy away from. Like death.

I stared into my coffee cup, swirling the dark liquid around. "Do you think... death's something to be afraid of?" I asked, almost hesitant.

He glanced at me, mid-bite, before setting the chicken wing down and wiping his fingers on a napkin. "No," he said simply. "It's not the death part that's scary. It's the staying."

I frowned, confused. "The staying?"

He took a swig of his beer, leaning back, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Yeah. Sometimes the worst part isn't dying but being stuck here. Not going anywhere. Just... staying."

His words sent a chill down my spine. I didn't know what he meant, and I didn't know if I wanted to. It was the way he said it, like it wasn't just a theory but something he'd experienced, something he knew. I opened my mouth to ask more, but he was already back to eating, his attention elsewhere.

I didn't press him. I never did when he got like that. But his words stayed with me, gnawing at me as we sat in silence, the only sound was the soft rustle of the evening wind and the distant hum of traffic. I couldn't help but spiral, trying to make sense of what he'd said. What did it mean to stay? Was he talking about life after death? Or something else, something darker?

I barely slept that night. My mind kept replaying his words over and over, dissecting them from every angle. I'd talk to Nathan about death all the time, but this felt different. Emrys wasn't just talking about death in an abstract sense—he was talking about something more. Something real.

The next day at work was a blur. I had to deal with a dozen annoying customers, each one worse than the last. By the time my shift ended, I was fried, both physically and mentally. All I wanted was to unwind, to stop thinking about death and whatever the hell Emrys had meant.

I headed straight to Emrys' place after work, my head buzzing. He was sprawled out on the couch when I got there, the room dimly lit, the smell of weed hanging in the air. I kicked off my shoes, grabbed the blunt sitting on the table, and took a long drag, exhaling slowly as I paced back and forth in front of him.

"Work was hell," I muttered, taking another hit. "You won't believe the shit I had to put up with today. These people act like I personally set the prices. I swear, if one more person complained about the cost of tomatoes, I was going to lose it."

Emrys watched me with that same calm, detached look he always had. "Want me to take care of them?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, but there was a playful edge to it. "Off with their heads, right?"

I pouted dramatically, slumping down next to him on the couch. "Off with their heads," I repeated in a mock royal tone, resting my head on his arm. "And make them eat their tongues first. That'll teach them not to complain in their next life."

He chuckled softly, ruffling my hair. "Your wish is my command," he said, leaning down to kiss my temple. His lips lingered a little longer than necessary, and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment. His scent, that intoxicating mix of something spicy and sweet, filled my senses.

I could feel his breath on my skin as he whispered, "You smell like berries and cream."

I laughed lightly, turning my head to look up at him. "Good thing you like berries."

His eyes darkened with mischief, and he reached out, running his fingers through my curls. "I like a lot of things about you."

I smiled, biting my lip. I could feel the tension between us, thick and electric, but before I could lean in and close the gap, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and sighed, his playful expression dropping.

"It's Isabelle," he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice.

I sat up, the moment shattered. I knew what that meant—it was time for me to leave.

He hung up without answering the call, turning to me with a smirk. "Your Uber's outside, Ladybug."

I pouted, not ready to go just yet, but I knew better than to argue. This was how it always went. I got up slowly, grabbing my bag from the floor. Emrys stood, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close, his lips brushing against mine. "See you later," he whispered against my mouth before kissing me, slow and deep. His hand slid down to pat my thigh, and I felt a shiver run through me.

I pulled away reluctantly, not wanting to break the connection. "Don't miss me too much," I teased, heading toward the door.

He laughed softly. "I never do."

I rolled my eyes and left, the cool night air hitting me as I stepped outside. I climbed into the waiting Uber, my mind already spiraling back to our conversation from the night before. What did he mean by staying?