Snow

34 | you'd kill me first

❝let it go, let it go all the way down
'til there's no where left to fall.
it's a shame, all the ways we build ourselves up, just to let each other down.❞

❘❘

I DON'T FEEL REAL when he sinks into bed behind me. I feel dazed and disoriented... almost like I'm wasting air... like I can't breathe, or maybe like I just shouldn't.

There's something sensual and secretive in his soft assault, soothing my entire body into a slow surrender—an arm draping over my waist, fingertips flirting at the hem of my shirt playfully, warm lips grazing my throat, a million little loving motions replacing the chill in my bones.

"Mmm. Neva." I shiver, my lashes fluttering. "You look like you haven't moved since I left."

Maybe I haven't. I don't know how long it's been since he left with promises to fix my car, to take care of things, to keep me safe. Days? A week?

His palm sneaks beneath my shirt and flattens against my stomach to reel me in. Nausea churns in my head as the slight shift sends the room spiraling, and I cough, my throat burning with that endless string of bile.

Creo que me voy a enfermar.

Desperately, I wriggle in his grasp, gasping for air. When he doesn't let go of me, I only scoot closer and closer and closer—until denim grazes the backs of my thighs and friction softens the sickness.

Why is Julian so warm?

"Estoy preocupado por ti, Neva."

Why is everyone so worried about me?

"No te preocupes," I grumble.

"Mmmm." Julian hums, sweeping a hand up my arm softly, slowly, intimately. A sensational shiver wracks through me, tiny sparks of cold air kissing my skin. Goosebumps chase his fiery fingertips up to the crook of my neck. "Pues, ¿cómo te sientes, mamita?"

I feel too hot, too cold, too low, too high, too tired, too depressed, too fucking dead.

"Like shit," I settle with.

"Are you okay?"

My heart lurches with the faint question, full of a familiar concern. A trace of worry. "No, no estoy bien."

Julian plucks the hair from my sweaty forehead, and as he dips to my ear, I bite back a whimper. "Neva, what's wrong? What is going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

I burrow into the pillows with stinging eyes. I don't know. There's nothing but coiled colors, whirling, twirling, curling, into knots inside of me, buried beneath layers and layers of nothingness. Everything is quebrado... or blank.

"Nada," I finally whisper. "Nothing."

Descending into a quiet comfort, I surrender to the featherlight faze that follows. A storm of butterflies flutter across my throat, soft and alluring, seducing us into a gentle mess of sleepy sighs and hazy heartbeats. I twist and sink into the sheets slowly as Julian captures my lips in a faint kiss.

"I missed you," I breathe, a wistfulness in the confession. As I rope my arms around his neck to keep him with me, the space between us diminishes. "I missed you, Jules."

Something tender tugs his lips into a smile. "I missed you too. I'm sorry I was gone so long."

Maybe I should have cared more about him taking my car for days—no texts, no calls. I nod numbly. "Está bien."