The sky above them was bruised and dark as wine. They stumbled through the stars, drunk, lost, both a little scared. He had her in his veins, singing through his skin, sliding through him, slipping past his brain and down his spine and kicking off his heart.
He and his brother collapsed in one of their apartments (not that it made a difference which) and curled up like cats near each other, a breath away, but not touching. He could smell Nagira's breath – the alcohol, the gambling problem, the confession that as hard as he tried, he couldn't feel much of anything anymore. His couldn't have been any better.
"I love her," he said to the darkness, the girl bubbling like champagne in his throat. "I can't, but I --,"
"Yeah," said Nagira, softer. "I know you do."