Devoid [Bruno Mars]

Chapter twenty-two

Chapter twenty-two

“I do not want to die,” Joseph continued. “without you knowing that I'm not the same person I was in Grim that I am today. I'm also asking you to forgive me.”

I stared at him, speechless.

His lips curved into a sad smile. “Maybe then can I live and die peacefully.” He must have suspected my skepticism of his so-called dying, he did appear healthy to me, because he extended his arm across the water. “If I can show you.”

I stared at his hand then tentatively placed my fingers in his. He pulled me forward to his side. He angled away a little, so I was looking at his left arm, shoulder, and partially his back. “Look carefully,” he instructed. I squinted my eyes against his skin. I didn't know what I was looking for. Still I stared, waiting for it, my heart the only thing I could hear in my ears.

And then it appeared.

Veins, inching across his skin like spidery webs. Without thinking, I brought my hand to touch them. They were blue lines of raised skin, sick and abnormal looking. My fingertip, which was wrinkly like a prune, traveled to his shoulder, where the veins disappeared. “What's inside of you?” I whispered.

“I do not know yet,” he answered with his eyes closed, head tilted in my direction as if trying to focus on something. “I'm studying it. I know that it originated from Aegrimonia and that it's slowly killing me, running through my veins to stop my heart. I have medicine to prolong my death, along with building muscular strength, but I am still going to die inevitably.”

“No cure?”

“No cure.” He spoke softly, tinged with a sadness that was not about tears but something else. “Even if I did discover one, I would never use it. I deserve—I deserve this burning.”

He stole my sympathy, clutched it securely in his grip, ran with it. And I let him. It was something I could not help. Did he deserve this? This shortened life caused by somewhere he had no control over living? I realized then I had never been this close to him, not even when I spat at him. His eyes were still closed. He breathed through parted thin lips. A sudden pulse went through me. “I kissed you,” I said, my eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

His eyes opened and peered down at me. There were flecks of gray in the black. “I asked you to.”

“And I had complied?” I watched him, very slowly, nod his head. “Why?”

“You do not remember?” He glanced suspiciously at my necklace.

“Not everything,” I admitted. “Bits and pieces but not everything.”

He grabbed my other hand that was not on his shoulder, making water spill from my arm and splash into the river. “Well, I don't think I can answer that for you.”

I looked into his eyes. I could almost feel his lips on mine, a distant cold on my tongue, but the rest of the memory dipped into blackness. “I dream of you,” I blurted. I never even told Bruno this other half of my dream. “I hallucinate you.” 

“Is that correct?” he whispered. I could feel his breath puff out on my face. Burnt leaves.

“Joseph,” I said carefully. “In Grim did I have any sort of. . . feelings for you?”

His fingers went under my chin, tilting my head up. “Only you can answer that, my sweet Adrian.” 

“Did. . . did you?”

“Did I have feelings for you?” His nose bumped against mine. “If I had, I would have shown it better.”

“When I dream of you I believe it's a memory,” I told him. “But in it you're. . . you're—” I stopped, embarrassed, my teeth pressing down on my bottom lip.