❝why don't you lean on me for a while?
since you only get high on the weekends,
uh huh, why don't you feed on me tonight?❞
❘❘
LOST IN THE DIM LIGHT, surrendering to a hazy veil of shadows, with flushed cheeks, fluttering lashes, parted lips, a mess of tangled locks unraveling between us, everything about Emmy is nothing but beautifully serene chaos. A fucking vision in a slow silence, perfectly still in the late-night darkness.
Hay momentos when it's hard to breathe.
As I sink into the sheets beside her, struggling to find a sense of stability, desperate not to drown in some fucked up admiration of her, the moments bleed into hours. I don't know if I'll ever fall asleep; no sé si puedo. Each stroke of the sheets against my bare skin is electric, and every single breath is broken. I inch closer to her, closer to her, closer to her, draping an arm over her waist carefully.
We don't say anything, or do anything, or remember anything.
When Emmy drove me home, murmuring in that soft fucking Spanglish that everything will be okay, a numbness slithered through me, ensnaring veins and bones and muscles into an aching exhaustion. I let myself doze off, dizzy, defeated, and so fucking drained, wishing that I could just... float... drift off into a vast, midnight ocean, and... drown.
No hablamos de eso.
Emmy led me into the bathroom, helped me strip my clothes away, and pretended she didn't hear me sobbing in the shower. Emmy bought us some food, forced me to eat, and held my hair back with I threw up everything.
With sad eyes and sad smiles, Emmy tugged me into bed with her, whispering something too fucking soft to understand. couldn't understand her. I could only nod numbly as everything inside of me threatened to fall apart.
There's no real end to this. I think it finally dawned on me. Because I could feel it, a barely there buzz in my bloodstream, a faint thrum of restlessness, but when I took another hit, sniffed, swiped at my sweaty cheeks, I regretted it immediately.
And then I took another.
A vibration itches across my skin, faint and fluttering, like feathers tracing veins up to my heart.
Still enraptured, still inhaling smoke, still fighting off too many fucking memories, I shift quietly to grab my phone from beneath my thigh. Wisps of hot breath swim across my cheeks, and the sensation is destructive, so fucking surreal that for a split second, no sé dónde estoy.
Sólo quiero tocarla.
Another vibration shakes the phone in my palm, sending sparks shooting to my fingertips, to my toes, to my fucking eyelids. I twist my wrist slowly, gaze falling from her parted lips to the glowing screen.
My breath hitches.
Only four letters flood the black background. Enzo.
It's the first time he's... called me since our fight in the bar, since I told him I hated him, since I... since I... told him he wasn't mi hermano. Something inside of me cracks, an icy sheet of armor protecting my heart from the impact of that sudden regret. No matter how many times I build a fucking wall, no matter how tall, how strong, how indestructible, mi hermano can always tear it down.
Sin decir nada.
Dizzily, I stare at his name, a million fucking splinters fracturing, splicing, splintering into every crevice of my brain. Does he... still want to talk to me? Does he still love me?
YOU ARE READING
Snow
RomanceWhen Neva Álvarez moves to Queens, she's merely biding her time between bartending and dodging her brother's phone calls before her final year at NYU, and with the summer dwindling to an end, it's difficult not to find herself drawn to her new next...
