A/N:
guys guess what
i did i t
i actually finished somethign
g uys
like wow
You Weren't Supposed to Grow Old
The world blurred as the beautiful woman plucked glasses of her nose. She blinked away a mottle of muted colours and hazy edges, rubbing the lenses against her cardigan and sliding them back on. Her armchair creaked as she sank down, complaining even under her slight weight. She gazed out a window and picked absent-mindedly at loose, floral threads, the upholstery worn from years of use, much like her own body.
China was old, a used vessel, all anger and nerve had long since fled her soul. She remembered the days; she was alive, she was pure. It had been a time when she had breathed in air that seemed crisp, smelt rain and grinned, when she still looked up at the sky and felt alive. Love had been a thrill, sharp and potent, all unexpected turns and different places.
It had been years, and now her body was flat. Bones stuck out of a frail frame, and her spine was a series of knots, jutting almost sickeningly out of her back. Despite her heavy grey hair and hunched back, she stood proudly with her hair piled up on her head, a mass of intricate twists. She was still stunning.
She waited, with only silence to wait with her. Her eyes, now dim and hiding under sagging eyelids, followed dust motes lazily. She noticed them, the little things, which she had never seen before. She loved them. They were simple, and her love was simple too.
Getting up, she delicately raised herself to her feet and fumbled for her walking stick, slack hands trembling until they found the handle. Knuckles turned white as she gripped it and slowly made her way into the kitchen. If she wanted to, she could've closed her eyes and found her way on smell, hearing and touch alone. She knew where floorboards creaked, when carpet gave way to tiling, that the living room smelt like wood and musk, and the kitchen was soap and plastic. She had lived in this house for hundreds of years, so long that it was almost a part of her.
Now with a view of the garden, China sat at the dining table, head in her hands. She sat like that, shifting only slightly and keeping track of time judging by the angle of the shadows. The sun began to set, casting a warm, comforting golden glow on the room. It hit her face, illuminating half of her skin and playing with her hair, highlighting wayward strands.
Hearing keys jingle in a lock, China slid her eyes shut and let a smile drift across her face. She heard him shut the door quietly behind him and recognised the time in which he hung his hat in the entry-way. She listened to his footsteps pad over carpet and change to clacks as the soles of his shoes met the kitchen linoleum. She didn't turn around as he entered the kitchen, only sat with her head resting in her hands and her eyes shut. As he strode past to drop his keys in the dish on the counter, he trailed his fingers across her shoulders.
Skulduggery drew out a chair and sat in it, pulling off his gloves and laying them on the table, next to a glass bowl of toffees. He slid a chair out from under the table and seated himself next to her. She heard the rustle of a suit as he cocked his head and laced his fingers under his chin. With a turn of hers she cracked an eye open to see him gazing intently at her, gleaming skull just the same as it was six hundred years ago.
"I love you." He said simply.
China recalled the days when she would laugh and say 'I know.' But she had long left the silly games behind.
"I love you too. And I always will."
He picked up her limp hand, translucent skin dappled with age spots and threaded his fingers through hers. She felt the insouciance that had filled her since he had left in the morning melt away and pressed the cool bone of his hand to her cheek. Another skeletal hand reached around and encased theirs. Her eyes lifted, a small spark dancing in them as he leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead. Bone grazed over skin until her brow leant against his. A bony arm wrapped around her bony back and he held her close.
Gaunt cheeks lifted and her heart flushed with joy. Then her eyes burnt and a tear trickled down her cheek. She wanted to blink, to fight off the tears, but she didn't even dare take a breath.
"I'm going to die, Skulduggery." Her voice was quiet. Accepting.
"No, you're not." He said firmly. His wasn't.
But she could tell from the way his hands tightened painfully around hers that he knew that wasn't true.