Devils and Angels

xxxvii. twilight

a m o u r   s a n s   f i n

endless love

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THE WAISTBAND OF MY TROUSERS hugged my hips tightly as I boosted myself onto the brick wall, the heels of my Converse digging into the crumbling mortar. The soft, vapourous breeze rustled at the fabric encasing my legs, gently grazing my knee, now pale and unsteady without the added support of the brace. My hand found his on the uneven surface; his long fingered hand extended into a washed-out, alien version of his arm beneath the long sleeved-shirt he wore, nearly unrecognisable now without its plaster cast.

The evening sky was enrapturing, the first shimmers of stars behind a peach and lavender sky; blushing light under a velvet horizon, promising a morning of quilted pastel skies and feathery clouds, endowed in the golden spillage of a morning sunrise.

I was bewitched by the breathless, sparkling air―the sweet, warm air caressing the slivers of exposed skin on my body in noiseless zephyrs that graced the still, fresh evening.

Though the sun dipped low on the horizon, the last of its light bloomed in the distance, bathing each silhouette in crowns of gold. It washed up on our interlocked hands, gently curved lips, glittering eyes, like the foamy, silver swathes of the tide lapping up against the shore.

The dying sounds of the fair still lingered: sparkling laughs and the swirl of music elongating itself in the warmth of the night.

Cars sped past in kaleidoscopic blurs, blazing surges of every colour under the sun, coruscating with orange and white lights like blooming primroses on the back of starlit drives. They skimmed past on rain-dusted roads, lost in glittering winds caressing their cheeks, and arms dangling out of windows, air reaming their fingers, so close and in reach that they could almost touch the stars.

We were invisible to them, feet scrunched up on uneven bricks, and elegant branches kissing our lips with each gentle gust; the pale emerald of new life.

Beside me, Caspian's phosphorescent eyes were struck with awe, lips parted, and slivers of his breath creeping through in white mists that disappeared as soon as they arrived.

"A perfect end to a perfect night," He murmured, the hand not entangled with mine skimming the curve of my waist and settling on my hip, his thumb reaching to graze the inch of exposed skin that my jumper failed to cover. When I flinched, he cursed, retracting his hand away as if I'd burnt him. "Shit. I should have asked first. Why didn't I ask first? I'm sorry, I screwed up."

"It's fine." I lay my hand over his, guiding it back to my waist. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"I still should have asked first." He sighed, mournful. "I fucked up."

"Maybe, but I forgive you." I poked my tongue out at him, squeezing our fingers. "You have all the time in the world to make mistakes, just don't repeat them."

"Got it," He said sincerely, the smile shining through his words as my head dropped onto his shoulder. He shifted to accommodate me, before his head fell into mine, and it was like we were inseparable. Joined in every way, from our breaths, intermingling in the darkness, down to our hearts, beating in sync through the silken silence. "Tia...I know I already said this, but you look―you look beautiful."

"Thanks, Casp." I allowed my eyes to fall shut to his heartbeat, strong and firm in his chest. "I had the best night. The fair was really something."

"It was, wasn't it?" He hummed, a light chuckle bubbling at his throat. "I think I've developed a taste for candyfloss."

"More like a taste for me. But...you looked kind of cute with it all over your face, so I'll give you that," I added, eliciting a laugh that resonated through me. "I have that picture, you know."