His Nepenthe | complete

5. Take

T A K E M Y H A N D

*

"Christian?" His small hand reached out to mine, a small smile on his lips, "We are safe, you know. These towers don't break."

My hands found feeling, my eyes blinking as I adjusted myself to the scene. An expansive range of tall buildings fear into the beyond, a sunset spinning off the horizon. A crescent moon following the wake of light.

My fingers felt a soft squeeze, trailing my attention to the boy beside me, holding my hand gently, "Are you okay?"

The sight of him caused a hitch in my breath, a wavering in my heartbeat. His daring blue eyes gazed into mine, a curious eyebrow quirked with a smile that had a lost tooth in the middle.

My expression began to match his, a tingle at the corners of my lips as a shaky breath blew through my teeth, "yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay."

He beamed back up to me, his ruffles of light brown hair blowing in the wind, "Good! He's been waiting to see me, too. You just take so long looking at the sun."

I refused to question the boy. I refused to state that I could see the buildings rock, I refused to tell him he wasn't safe with me. I refused to feel wrong as I watched the boy trail forward, tugging me behind him.

But my bones rattled, and my body shook. My arms ached, and my head pounded. Something was horribly wrong.

I wanted to be selfish, however, and just hold the hand of the young boy for as long as I could until he would be taken from my grip.

He noticed my unwilling movement, the curious eyebrow tilting at me again, "What are you doing?"

I smiled softly, leaning down to my knees, "You're happy, right?"

He reeled back at the question, though his grip on my hand didn't falter, "Of course I am. Aren't you?"

I shook my head, his bottom lip beginning to get nervously chewed on at my answer, "You ran away a lot, didn't you?"

"I guess. I never really thought about it."

"Why did you want to go?"

"Why do you want to?"

My heart cracked at his gentle words, the wind rushing past my cheeks, freezing the blood in place for a moment, dragging out the pain of seeing his expression.

The weak concrete we stood on shuddered in the passing gust, lowering sun beaming at us as he began to frown, "I'll die again, won't I?"

My breath hitched as a soft sob left my lips, tears cascading down my face as I held tightly onto his hand, "Why do you leave so often?"

I leant down to the boy, wrapping my arms around his small frame as I cried into his shoulder, holding him as the building crumbled in my watery peripherals.

"Christian?"

I lifted my head, meeting the sad eyes that always looked so much like my own, "Yeah?"

His thumbs brushed over my cheeks clearing the wake of my tears, leaning his forehead against mine with our eyes closing simultaneously. He swallowed a breath, voice wavering like mine, "Why won't you just let me go?"

I was paralyzed the moment he spoke, his plea so quiet I almost didn't hear the words. But I did. I felt them. I felt the words break my ribs and puncture my lungs, blood spluttering out my lips, body weak and taunted my the ache.

The concrete collapsed beneath his feet, his body beginning to fall limply down to the ground. Adrenaline rushed through my veins as the wind lashed at my paper skin. My eyes watered and my blood soaked through my skin.

My arm reached out to his, only gripping it by a hair. He cried in pain, his bone snapping in my hold, my blood falling to his body.

I couldn't release my hold, though my skin was burning against the cracked concrete, and he was weeping for me to let him go. I couldn't listen to the plea, I couldn't accept that he was always going to die.

I held him so he wouldn't fall, but he thrashed against my grip, words he screamed silent in the howling wind. I knew, in my heart, we has asking me to let him go.

My hands shook, the blood that fell causing my hold to slip.

I was frozen as he fell slowly, watching me with eyes of gratitude, believing I had accepted his death.

But I hadn't. I just cried, I just bled.

I wanted to fall with him. I didn't want him to fall at all. I wanted to hold him close and lie that things would be alright.

A man was watching my loss, only a few steps ahead of me, a solemn expression casting his strong features. His jaw was set, his knuckles clenched until they were chalk white.

I stood, acknowledging his gaze, as I stepped towards the ledge. My aching eyes watered in the wind as I stared into a vision that resembled my own, the blood of mine running down my fingertips. I would have apologised for my foot reaching over the ledge, but I wasn't sorry. I wanted to be with him, and I would be in this step. I would feel my body be taken by gravity, eaten by gravel.

And maybe, just maybe, I might hold his small hand again with a smile.

"Christian?"

My eyes shot open at the sound of a gentle voice calling my name past the hazy vision, a jump through my nervous system spiking me to sit up. I cleared my throat, wiping my watering eyes, as I met Brandy's hazel gaze, wanting to speak as an excuse for wanting to cry.

"You okay there?" She asked, her voice soft as a quirk of a smile reached her lips.

I coughed out an awkward breath, losing her contact as I stared down at my empty notebook, "Didn't sleep."

"Figured."

There was a beat of silence in an empty room as she stood wordlessly over my table.

"Did you want something?"

A pink blush tinted her cheeks at the realisation of her silence, "No, sorry," she gave a cute laugh - obviously directed at herself. I would have smiled, maybe, had death not been haunting me, "I was just letting you know class ended."

My mind reoriented itself to the school room I was in - the empty tables a clear sign that I didn't need to be here anymore, "Oh. Right. Uh, thanks."

"No problem," her lips were pursed as she went to leave, eyebrows drawn as if she were thinking of the words she wanted to say. She turned back to me, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before speaking again, "Christian?"

"Yeah?"

"It's only a dream." Her books were clutched to her chest, bag slung over one shoulder - though I couldn't understand why she didn't just hold it, as both her shoulders were bruised or scratched the last I saw of them.

"Huh?"

"Whatever you saw as you closed your eyes was a figment of your imagination," my eyes stayed trained on the gentle quirk of her lips, her golden eyes gleaming with an emotion I couldn't quite place, "and there's nothing you could have done to change the events of your mind."

"Thanks?"

She smiled softly, a tender expression cast across her porcelain skin. The look cast over her face was kind, and she always seemed so genuine. Her words shook my spine, and - almost for a second - allowed me to forgive my mind for letting go of the boy that I loved.

She left me watching her delicate steps - the true mark of a dancer holding onto her pattern in the world that lacked the lustre of her movements.

I thought about Heath's words on her again, the enigma.

Maybe she was more than I expected.