Kisten and I were at Piscary's, upstairs in the club. The music was off, and no one was around – just the two of us. A large pizza was sitting between us, and we were sitting in amiable silence, neither wanting to broach the subject that was looming over us.

The dreams were becoming infrequent as the days moved on, but I treasured each moment Kisten graced me with. Tonight was being spent in each other's company without many words passing between us. I didn't mind – if we spoke, it would be about the fact that he was dead and I was not. And I wasn't ready for that conversation just yet.

I missed him, I really did. My whole body ached for his touch, and I ached mentally for his calming words. And yet… it didn't hurt as much. And it scared me that it didn't. I hadn't dreamt of Kisten in three weeks, and it hadn't worried me. I wasn't just getting through the days anymore so that I could dream of him at night. I was living again – and Kisten was not.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and Kisten reached across the table to grasp my hand. Ignoring his reach, I picked up a slice of pizza and bit into it, enjoying the tang of the tomato sauce.

Kisten sighed and withdrew his hand. I looked at him from over my pizza slice. His blue eyes held a sad, resigned shine. "What's wrong?" I asked, licking the grease off my fingertips.

"It's been awhile," Kisten said, and I nodded. "I've been missing you. Have you missed me?"

I put my slice of pizza down, and studied him. His five o'clock shadow gave away the fact that he dyed his hair that perfect shade of blonde, but his blue eyes were riveting as always. "Of course I missed you, Kisten," I assured him, and reached out my own hand to grab his.

He tugged my hand up, and brought his lips to my knuckles, and kissed me. I smiled wistfully, wishing that this was real, that it wasn't just a dream. When he let go of my hand, I went back to eating my pizza.

Kisten pushed his chair away from the table, and stood, stretching. "This is becoming one sided, isn't it?" he asked.

I looked up at him in confusion. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're moving on. I don't think I'll ever move on, and I have to watch you learn to live again. One day I'll realize you haven't come to visit in months, and it will break my heart I think." Kisten sighed, and turned away from me.

Dropping my pizza, I stood from the table and walked up behind him. "I'm not moving on. I still love you."

I put my hand on his shoulder, feeling the soft silk of his dark red shirt under my fingertips. He turned to face me, and I let my hand trail along the fabric, and his shoulders. Kist looked down at me, and put his hands on my arms. "I don't doubt you love me, Rache. I just think you'll forget how strong that love was. One day you won't think of me at all anymore."

"I'll never forget you, Kist," I said, as I let my fingers trail over his jawline, to prove that I wanted to memorize him. His hands slid from my arms to around my waist, and he drew me closer to him. As I lay my head against his chest, I breathed deeply of vampire incense and leather. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and held on tight.

"No matter what I do, I'm never going to forget your smile. Everything reminds me of you – and it will always be this way," I murmured into his chest.

I felt him sigh against my hair, and we embraced in silence for some time. I enjoyed hearing his heart beat beneath the thin silk shirt, and I let my fingers tangle in his hair. His arms tightened around me suddenly, and I heard him whisper, "Miss me, baby," in such a heart-wrenching way. I lifted my head up to look into his eyes.

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on my stomach, my arms wrapped around my pillow. Instead of tears coming to my eyes, I felt an uneasiness grow in the pit of my stomach. Would I eventually forget about Kisten? Would the pain become bearable? Would I eventually move on, find new love? I soon realized the feeling was guilt.

I could move on, and he couldn't. He would never find a new love; I could. I didn't want to though. It seemed so wrong. All of the things I could be doing that he would never do again.

But the tears didn't come. Depressed, I got out of bed, and threw the pillow away from me.

I wouldn't forget him. I wouldn't! I would always miss Kisten. Wouldn't I?