The Passion of Death (Editing)

Dead Souls

After lying in silence marked by our thumping heartbeats he stood up to light a cigarette. I went into the bathroom to put clothes on.
I come back.
"You play guitar?" He asks signaling to my case.
"I'm no Hendrix, but yeah" I reply as I take my little black book which laid always by my bed with a black pen, my feelings, and conclusions.
I write as he takes my electric guitar and plays what I recognize to be "Starman" by David Bowie.

"Once we release our first album I'll buy a guitar of my very own, I'll even name it." He states, I nod, still scribbling.
He turns to face me, "What are you writing?"
"Nothing."
"You're writing nothing?"
"Yeah."
"Well. I want to read nothing."
"Then go to the library" I say looking up at him.
For a moment he stood staring then unsuspectedly took the book from me, he puts the guitar aside as I tackle him back onto the bed. Once atop him I get back what's mine.
"You're a cheeky little cunt" I laugh.
"Come on, you wrote something about me didn't you?"
"No...did you want me to write something about you?" I ask getting off him.
He stood up thinking for a second before admitting, "yeah, I do."
"Cheeky and vain? What other traits have you been hiding Ian?" I joke.
"Many, you see, I'm Dr.Jeckyll and Mr.Hyde."
"I'm a lucky girl."
"Very. Will you let me read what you wrote then?"
"Yeah, but you must tell me why you were in the hospital the day we met, and the reason you had a seizure."
His face clouds up, "why do you care?"
"Why? Because you just took my virginity, that's why."
"What's that gotta do with anything?"
"What if you're dying? I have the right to know."
"We're all dying."
"Yeah, some of us quicker than others."
He looks down, "how did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"The suicide."
"I told you, a handful of Xanax"
"But what were you thinking about?"
"Why should I tell you? You don't trust me."

He took my hand then and looking into my eyes confided in me his illness and fears.

"I'm afraid that any time now, when the world closes in on me I will slip away and won't come back...And I'm not like you, death is not my friend.
When I have my fits its like having little tastes of it, little tastes of the dark silence. One of these days I know it wont be just a fit, no, it'll be eternal, eternal emptiness. Yet...when I am awake, when I'm sitting in a room full of people, it feels just as vacant, I feel as if everyone is taking a piece of my soul. And I don't know which one is worse."

His words like needles against my chest pierce me, I wrap my arms around him.
"You know what I know?" I whisper.
"I know that in our demise only our physical bodies deteriorate, our soul goes on. It is an energy and it cannot be destroyed. Like you said, only in death we are free...I've always thought that once we reach heaven we are allowed to create our own worlds, like an empty canvas that we get to paint on. I promise you death is our friend...there isn't much I can say for actual life, I do not know her well."

With his face close to mine he hands me a proposition.

"I'll introduce you to life if you acquaint me with death."
I gazed into his soul wondering what he meant and before long we were kissing again. The deal had been sealed.