Don't Go

Faélin

Bang!

The hidden door opens, and two people fall into the room. One of them is crying hysterically, the other is laying on the ground. I feel Connor tense and pull me closer to him. While I'm trying to get a good look at the newcomers, I hear the door open again. I close my eyes, allowing the darkness to engulf me. Of course, we're being moved to a new room. I can only hope there won't be any dead people in there.

The cold air hits me as I feel them drag Connor away, then myself. They didn't give me a chance to stand up this time. They didn't slow down when I hit a wall or a corner. The only thing to lighten the blow of me being thrown into the new room was slamming into Connor.

At first, I want to just lay there. Just curl up into a ball. Just disappear. But then I feel him sit up next to me. Part of me wants to sit up and open my eyes to see the new surroundings. I didn't though. Instead, I gave into my yearning and curled up, hugging my knees tightly to my chest.

“I don't want to be here. I'm cold, I'm hungry, and everything hurts,” I mutter quietly, not intending to say that out loud. Connor reaches over and gently pulls me up to a sitting position. That's when I finally open my eyes and look around. This room is unlike any of the others. It's lit by only one candle, which, if it was to burn out, we'd be left in complete blackness. There's cobwebs in the upper corners, and in the middle of the room… I shake my head. Connor is watching my face, I can tell. He's waiting for me to say something. Unfortunately, I have nothing to say. This isn't supposed to be a joke. It's not funny.

“Faé?”

I glance at him.

“Dude, what'd they do when they were dragging you?” His eyes shine with concern as he reached over and gently touched my face.

A sharp pain was the last thing I was expecting to feel, and when he pulls his hand away, I see a glimmer of scarlet on his fingers. With a wince, I experimentally reach up and touch the side of my face as he had. Another sharp pain. I pull my hand away and look down as I wipe the blood off it. “It's just a cut. No big deal.”

“You've seen those dead people, I know you have. And this is only the first step towards you being one of those people. Maybe it's not a big problem for you, but I don't want you to die.”

I stare at him, shocked. This outburst was unlike anything I expected from Connor. His eyes study mine for what feels like an eternity. Of course I know every little thing about him, the way his hair falls effortlessly, the way he would smile when his writing was in the newspapers from time to time, and the usual sparkle of his deep brown eyes. Despite all we've been going through, Connor’s eyes seem to have regained a bit of their brightness. Perhaps it was just the candle light. I'd rather think it's something else.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as his face moves closer to mine. Then, without warning, our lips touch. I've fantasized about this happening a million times, but it's so real now. And it's so much more than I imagined it would be.

My mind is exploding. Fireworks. Cannons. But only in a few heartbeats, he pulls away from me and once again, our eyes are locked together. I can feel my face growing hot, despite how chilly our surroundings are. For once, Connor is the first to look away, not me. I think we're both at a loss for words. But once again, he surprises me.

“You have no idea how long it's taken me to mentally get to a point where I could finally act on how I feel.”

I don't say anything in response and I see worry flash into his eyes.

“Faé, I uhh- you're not upset or mad, right? I'm sorry!”

I shake my head and look down. He moves closer to sit next to me, rather than in front of me. “No, I'm good. That w-was great. Really. I just don't know what to say,” I whisper, my voice unusually shaky.

He puts his hand under my chin and forces me to look up at him. “Please just let me try to do something about your face.”

I can't deny how badly I wanted to give in, but at the same time, I desperately didn't want him to waste whatever he was going to use on me. Before I can decline his help, he takes off the hoodie I gave him. The dark blue fabric is much thinner than it was when I got it. Undoubtedly, he had worn it throughout the past year.

I keep my gaze down and he begins ripping off a piece of the dirty fabric. “I know it's probably far from sanitary, but this will be better than leaving you with blood all over your face.” He pauses as he begins to gently wipe the drying blood off of my face, careful to stay away from wiping the cut directly. “I don't know exactly what to do for the cut itself. That's not my forte,” he says with a small smile and pulls the fabric away, setting it on the ground. I tried to watch closely, though the bleak, flickering light made it more difficult to see.