A/N: Those who follow All Fair in... weren't those days of quick updates just grand? Alas, I am a mere college student and exams are on the horizon. Expect nothing for a while.
These series, on the other hand, I might be able to handle quick updates for the time being. Think of it as a series of snapshots. Please do take a moment to leave a review, they're truly a relief to read.
For now we see through a mirror, darkly,
but soon we will see face to face.
Now I know only partially;
but then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.
So faith, hope, and love remain, these three;
but the greatest of these is love.
1 Cor. 13:12-13
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(the fireworks are starting)
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V appeared one night, when I was nearly drunk out of my mind. It was a good sort of drunkenness, the celebratory sort where everything looked fuzzy around the edges and there was that warm glow of wine lighting up your chest.
"Hello," he said, mask expressionless and grinning. "I'm dead. Did you miss me?"
I stubbed my toe on the corner of the baby grand and hiccupped with laughter. To my pleasant surprise, V laughed as well, and took me by my elbows.
He twirled me around and the room spun in dizzying, breathless lights; I was gasping so hard there were tears coming out of my eyes, weeping happiness. V's laughter was a light, ordinary sound-- so different from that that throaty chuckle he used to have.
He sounded different. He sounded freer. It made the warmth in my chest well up, and I touched the side of his mask in a twist of affection. He didn't seem to mind.
"You're not here," I sighed. V took my hands and put one of them on his waist. He took the other with a confident, familiar air of a lover: a waltz, first beat.
"You grew your hair out," he said. "I always loved your hair."
I giggled; he pulled me around the room, our feet stumbling into each other, our laughter as teasing as tipsy college sweethearts on a prom night. I tripped over my own feet and landed with my face pressed awkwardly against his chest: he smelled of orange peels and dark almonds, so strange.
"Happy anniversary," I said, sounding muffled and thick to my ears.
He pulled me up and wiped the tears from my eyes. "The fireworks are starting," his voice smiled. "Let's go watch."
The next morning: a throbbing hangover, nearly-empty merlot rolling on the balcony, the ghost of sulfur in the grey sky and the taste of ash and salt in my mouth.