He laid his head atop her bosom, listening for the thumping of her heart wild within her rib cage. It beat beneath her skin—rhythmic and passionate and alive. The sweetest sound in existence.
His need for her was stronger than his need to eat or breathe. She was not his desire, but his necessity. Had she not been beside him, there would be no purpose of living in a world so ugly and cruel, for he would not be a complete person. No—he would be a senseless creature, hollowed and ensnared within the foregone darkness that ever haunted him.
She was the light that banished his darkness. The one who taught him that the world did not have to be ugly. That he did not have to be a slave to his own hatred.
No false remedies of richness nor conquest could amount to her nepenthe. In the end, his "accomplishments" were all for naught in the wake of his lover, for, before her, he was no king—he was human.
Delicate fingers combed through his midnight hair. Beneath her breath, she hummed a little tune. Not strong enough to call forth the rains, no, but enough to summon the lightest of drizzles. No matter how effortless, nature would always be her instrument.
Between his fingers, he caught a tress of hair, colored with the sky when the sun kissed the horizon. Soft and silky, dewy with droplets.
He brought the lock of sunset to his lips, and closed his eyes. He felt the hair tickle against his skin, felt the droplets of rain instill him with a spring chill. Felt her fingers lay smooth his hair. Felt the vibration of her voice reverberating within her chest. Felt her breathing.
Yes. This was what kept him tethered to the reality he once longed to sever himself from.
This was what kept him alive.
