"All that matters is you."
They kiss - and even after all the time and love and kisses she's shared with him - this kiss is very different.
It's passionate and urgent and a physical manifestation of every promise and desire they have ever shared. This isn't unusual. Bonnie loves the way he grabs her and holds her and pours every inch of him into the movement of his lips. Even when they weren't in immediate danger - cuddled together by the fire in their cabin, naked and smiling - he would kiss her as if he could lose her in any moment. And given all that had happened since - she doesn't blame him.
But this - this one, where his tongue caresses hers but with desperation and fear, and where he drags his hand down her back to draw her so close she can barely breathe, and where his skins feels cold - this is different. His fire sets her aflame, and her fingers itch to be under his clothes and on him.
She wants him. All of him, his skin and his heart and his soul. But when Bonnie tugs on his shirt and tries to lift it over his head - a move that normally results in his nose dragging over hers, his tiny smile almost a smirk as he breaks off and lets her - Enzo just holds her even closer. The kiss - still hard and deep and desperate - is a rejection and denial and Bonnie almost cries when he suddenly backs away.
"Bonnie - " His face is contorted into one that appears blank; she hates that face and he knows it, because he's hiding from her and she absolutely hates that. "We - I'm not really here."
She does not care, at all, because he's real enough to her - she can touch him, hold him, kiss him - so he's real. And if he's real, then he's not dead and she want to celebrate by holding him with her skin embracing his. So Bonnie holds his face. "Enzo - I thought I lost you. I want to remember that I didn't. That you're real. I want you."
His smile is sad and pained and her heart clenches. "I'm not real," he says, his hands falling to his side. The loss of contact leaves her even colder. "Bonnie, we can't do this."
His words don't make sense to her - he's saying things that seem like a goodbye, but that is just not possible. "What are you talking about?"
"You have to let me go."
It's an echo, a memory, and Bonnie can't believe it. She takes a step back, disgusted. "Are you kidding me? I just got you back. You were dead, Enzo! And I'm - " She reaches a hand out, fingers dancing across his cheek. Her voice just barely softens, breaking with each breath. "You know I can't do that."
Enzo holds her other hand in his, his thumb drawing spirals on her palm. "I don't want to. But - I'm still dead, Bonnie," he says, voice soft and pained and almost a whisper. That word - dead - rings in her ears and the candles surrounding them sway. "I can't give you the life you deserve."
"I deserve you."
Bonnie wants to cry, to scream, to let her heart rip into pieces - but she's done that, once or twice or several times already. It's no fun. She doesn't want this, she wants him. But he -
Enzo pulls her close once more, the hand not tightly grasping hers now holding her face. His eyes dance across her - he's searching and memorizing, he's done this before, and every time she melts into him and for him. "You deserve to live a long, happy life, Bonnie Bennett. With a man who can be there for you, and your friends, in the flesh. Alive." He shakes his head and for the first time, finally, his eyes glow with a sadness. "I want to be that man, believe me, but I can't be. So you have to let me go. I'll be here, always, but you - you deserve better than a ghost."
Her eyes close. Darkness is tinged in strokes of tears and candlelight, but it's his hand - her anchor, her reminder that she has him again, in front of her - that paints the swirls of dusty ash growing in the pit of her stomach. Without thought, because her heart breaks and shatters and gets put back together in quick succession, she grabs his hand and pulls it off her face. Holding both his hands so tightly, Bonnie looks Enzo straight in the eyes, her lips ghosting over his.
"Enzo St. John, I will not give up on you. I hear what you are saying, but - " she shakes her head and gives a pained laugh, "I will bring you back. I deserve you. I want you. And for once, I will get what I want." Her chest vibrates with deep breathes.
His eyes are dark and deep, the intensity catching her heart mid-beat. Maybe there are words stuck in his throat, but she knows this look: it mirrors her own, after a heartfelt poem of his epic love where she's caught off guard by how much this man truly loves her.
For once, Bonnie has left him speechless.
Enzo kisses her again, a kiss very similar to before. His hand slips to her neck and the other to her waist. Standing taller, she tries to match him - the passion hits her in waves, his tongue dancing across her lips and her teeth grazing the edges of his mouth. She wants him to meld into her, to let their souls join again, because the desperation and the fear are still there, still hidden between each lack of breath - but there's something else underlining this kiss.
Her mind is too clouded with swirls of vanilla and cinnamon, of the warmth of his fingers caressing her skin, or the way his mouth builds castles on her tongue. But when they finally break apart, just slightly, their noses brushing against another, he rests his forehead against hers. And when he lets out a sigh, long and deep and quiet, his whisper tickles her lips.
"I love you so much." It's a statement, a dedication, a promise.
And when she looks into his eyes and sees them glowing - her own heart reflected back - she knows. She remembers the moment well - the moment she realized this man's soul mirrored her own. A fighter. A survivor.
Bonnie remembers his words the best.
"I will let you go when the darkness comes and yanks you into oblivion. I will accept it when you no longer exist. You and I - we have been through so much, together and apart. I had no hope of ever seeing you again, but I clung to it. So I will accept it when it's done… not a moment prior."
And then he knows too.