I can feel it. The ache in my chest, overflowing, pouring out onto the floor without abandon. At least, that's what I think. But she can't see it. She's as oblivious as always, but that's part of her and I yearn for any of her. Any piece of her she'll give me, I'll take.
Everything inside me screams, 'don't!', and I smother my desire under the coolness of a Hunter. I don't desire her blood, right? No, it's more than that. I try to reason with myself, over and over, and I feel her blood soaking into my overcoat. It's soaking in and I bite my hunger down. God, if you exist, don't let me lose my composure.
She shifts against my body, stirring from her unconciousness. I wish I could read her mind. I wish I could know and understand, understand and leave her alone. I wish I could know.
I'm holding my reason for living in my arms.
All I can do is breathe lies, and I hate it. Maybe I could try to be honest. Maybe I could tell her I don't want her to be with that man. Maybe I could admit that I'm only alive because I'm waiting for her. Maybe I could actually say those three words that smolder in my throat, and stir in my heart.
I feel so desperate.