He was not the death angel.
It was a nickname I baptized him with. But it seemed like a word out of a dictionary; it has a meaning.
He was never just someone because he is Tristan, he is different.
I realized he was real. This is too tangible of a world.
Life. It was something to look forward to. But losing yourself in the process? Isn't waiting for nothing better than this?
I calmly smiled at him as he closed his eyes, lying down the field. I examined his expression agonizingly.
I tilted my head to the side.
He was too manly. His eyes are slightly slanted, complementing his fair complexion while his hair disheveled perfectly matching.
I let our lips touch.
It was painstakingly difficult. He was tormented and I was badly hurt to just look.
I imitated him as I lay down beside him and closed my eyes.
"If I come back alive, I will find you..." I barely whispered. I have fallen, awfully.
Struggling, I continued softly with tears almost about to drop, "I will bring you back."
I can't go away but I don't want to stay.
I surrendered to the darkness. Save me from this misery.
Slowly, as if a reversed echo, silenced to a loud thunder of voice, I could hear someone shout. Ever so serenely and yet remotely familiar, it was screaming my name.
I was awake.
My eyes were closed but I could hear the beating of my alive being.
Once, twice. I blinked rapidly, refusing to believe I am back.
My breathing started to waver...
It almost seemed like a distant memory but I could hear it loudly shouting desperately, "Goodbye, my angel."
I was lost in the darkness once again.
