They danced, casting shadows on bedroom walls and white cascading mountains. The snow defined their cracking bones.
They were closest when there was an ocean between them.
Ada saw him in every exhausted draw of the eyes. She sat by the window and watched the day die. And waited for the call, for someone or thing to put down. Her fingers twitched, needing the weight of the trigger. The half pause of hesitation it took to squeeze the trigger had become instinct. She lived in the kickback, the bang, the impact. And waited to invade his life again and leave him burning.
He breathed under the surface of her skin. Leon smiled into the eyes of another woman. A friend, a partner, dare he dream a lover (he forgot her and closed his eyes, peace) but all he ever saw was dripping honey, gold glinting in the sun. All he heard was her voice, closing around his name. All he felt was the weight of losing her. There never was another woman. There was no one, just her.
When they came together it was not the crash of waves, but the tide pouring over every grain of sand. Leon loved to look at her, but she was always running away. He watched her until she became a dot and it hurt not to blink. He was afraid he'd close his eyes and miss her looking back at him, smiling and in her smile would be the world.
They kissed like they fought, drawing blood. His hands were in her hair, begging her not to go. Her head rested on his shoulder. She could see patches of freckles where the sun had permeated his armor, his leather jacket. He was bundled-up tight. The wind did not caress him, she did not possess him.
The taste of him remained on her lips. She painted them red and he stared back, plain-faced. A hunger howled deep within her. He was a line curved on her. He had written himself deeply into her veins. She couldn't pretend that she hadn't hurt him, left him with scars he traced in her absence.
Ada had wanted to be with him. She had stained his hands with her blood, and yet he was the one that had gone away. It would have been fate to die in his arms, but they had no friends on the other side.
Every ray of sunlight was a dream, catching the disease of reality and turning into dust. They felt more alive in the grasps of death. It was beautiful, like falling through space. All they saw was black, all they felt was their hearts beating fast and slow.
It was the only thing that told them they were alive, but even that truth was faulty. A sack of meat and bone drawing breath until it wasn't. They were only alive when their eyes met.
"I need you." He trusted her. He trusted her with his life, and she wasn't there. She wondered who was with him. Claire, Sherry, a stranger?
Ada draped his leather jacket over her shoulders. It was all she had left of him. It was more than she had ever had of him. And waited to see him again.