I stand in the center of the room, staring at him. He has just walked through the front door for the first time in months. There is a slightly glazed look in his eyes that have come to be accustomed with. Those eyes, filled with confusion and madness, set themselves upon my face, and his head cocks the side.
Then he stumbles forward and envelops me in his arms. I allow myself to sink in his embrace fir a moment before trying to pull away.
His arms do not loosen. He does not let me go.
I look over his face, not quite sure who he is right now.
"Wade?" I ask, trying not to feel frightened.
He loves me, I tell myself. Of course, that does not always save me.
Suddenly his arms drop. He stares at me stoically, jaw set.
Then the yelling begins. He lashes out, as he asks why I did not tell him, and begins knocking things over. He throws the coffee stand. But he does not touch me.
In fact it seems that he has all but forgotten that I am here, in his fit of rage
I let out a whimper of fright, involuntarily. I hope he does not hear.
But he does. His head snaps towards me.
In a much quieter tone he asks me how long I have known that I am sick.
Three months is my reply.
It is him who whimpers now. How long do you have? He asks, his eyes now vulnerable.
Less than a year.
Those eyes widen, and he is suddenly only inches away, staring at me as if he has never seen me before. Maybe he has forgotten who I am. It would not be the first time.
But before I can test my suspicions, his lips are on mine, and his arms pull me close, and he is everywhere. He is every thing.
We are on fire, and I cannot breath. I do not care. He is my poison of choice, and I am addicted.
But the fire simmers down as his lips release mine. He pulls back slightly, and cups my cheeks, the lids of his eyes shut tightly.
We are silent. There is nothing to say.
Because in this moment it doesn't matter that he is insane or that I will die before the year is out. It is just the two of us, and the feel of his hands pressing against my face, as his wild eyes open to meet my own.
He leans forward.
And the world is on fire once more.
It does not matter that we are both just ruins of whole beings, because in this moment we are beautiful.
We are whole.