A Mountain Range of Rubble

Breathing Hearts

< If you haven't read the description, I'm actually continuing this! Yeah, I know, it's about damn time. Thanks for sticking around my loves >

Before she knew it Rudy was crying in her arms. And all the feelings came back, the ones that she only allowed to come deep in the night, the ones that wore down her soul, and the pull at her eyes became too overwhelming to fight. She'd never seen him cry, let alone seen him so hurt. With each muffled sob she heard the echoes of bombs and the shadow of an innocent girl falling to the ground. She saw her own screams in his eyes, getting louder with each realization, with each of the heartbeats she could feel against her chest.

But yet she couldn't help but feel guilty that the touch of his skin made her feel so at home, and even in a dark hour made her heart jump. She was anxious and relieved, she was happy to be with him and sorrowful, and she was overwhelmed by his presence but somehow it wasn't enough. All at once she remembered how much she loved him, how she'd lost him, how he was there, alive, even when he seemed like he was dying. She wanted to whisper, she wanted to scream that she would never leave him again, that he was alive. Because she knew in her heart it was these moments that made a person human. That when the lungs couldn't breathe, the heart could. Hers reached out to the boy; it stretched and touched him like it never had before.

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The night moved so fast it was still. When their breathing steadied they sat silently on the stiff mattress. He couldn't even attempt to form words.

She soon fell asleep on the stiff mattress in Rudy's room. He didn't even consider sleep.

He almost tried to lay next to her, but didn't want to wake her; he couldn't see, and it wasn't just because of the dark. He had blurry vision, a pounding head. He found it strange he could feel lonely in a nightmare.

He fumbled to his feet as each wave of regret ebbed and flowed with his aching body, his aching head. Focusing on the pain slowly emptied his mind until uncertainty crawled in its place. He tried to avoid looking at her. The worst part was that even after everything he couldn't help feeling ashamed of the way he broke down.

She'd been alone. All this time, she'd been alone. How had she even survived? 

The pangs of guilt returned. If he would've let his father go, he would have survived. The thought numbed him completely; his throat, still painfully raw, became dry. He tried to swallow but couldn't. It was his fault.

He'd almost recollected himself when it all came back to him. Books burned. Parades of suffering marched to their deaths. He could still feel the hunger in his stomach that kept him awake every night as he would lay next to his siblings. His siblings, who—

It wasn't his fault. It was Hitler's. Suddenly Rudy felt renewed, reawakened. He felt all but one thing: anger.

"Liesel. Liesel! We have to get out of here," he whispered loudly. Hesitantly, he shook her awake.

"Rudy... Rudy?" Clearly disoriented, she'd slowly started to get up when Rudy grabbed her arm and brought her back to reality. "What are you—"

He spoke quickly, his mind racing. "It's time we get out of here. I'm fine, really. But I don't think they'll let me go any time soon."

"Rudy, slow down! Where are we going? To the mayor's?" 

"No, no... Well, maybe for a few things. Just trust me."

Just trust him? She was reminded of a time that felt like decades ago— when they would steal apples. That same rush of excitement came back to her as she reached for her jacket.