“So I’ll take all the guilt and all the grief of letting the only real friend I’ve ever had sacrifice himself to save you. I’ll do it and I will sleep just fine at night becauseyouare the meaning of all my centuries.Youandonlyyou.So, I’m sorry but no.”
“You love me,” I announce, dumbfounded that it took both of us this long to see it. Him due to his inexperience with the emotion and me because of my stupid fucking insecurities.
“I… I have watched centuries of people using that word as an excuse or an apology. I don’t care for that word.Loveis too small a word for you and I. We are infinite. Soul-consuming. Earth-shattering. Time-bending. We are what this world and all the worlds before and after are made for.”
Now I’m crying for a wholly different reason. “That’s what love is, Fritz. Youloveme.”
He concedes, “So wholly it hurts my chest and makes my eyes leak just to think of the blessing that you are.”
“And I love you so much,” I reiterate, “More than should be possible. And is probably only possible because we can have more than just one life to live together.”
Eyes still silvery from unshed tears, he threads his hands gently through my hair. He places a soft kiss against my lips, not searching for anything more, just a sealing of our vows spoken through the hardest moment of our lives.
Then he cleans the blood from my fingernails, the dirt and debris from my hair, and helps me to fall back asleep through the sobs that won’t stop wracking my body.
???
Five days.
Caspian has been gone for five days.
Five days of wondering if they killed him or if they’re just torturing him.
Five days of debating which would be worse. The silence of Vankhala or the torture with a possibility of getting him back.
Five days of begging Eamon to help us and him refusing.
Five days without food.
Five nights of Fritz forcing me into a dreamless sleep.
Five nights of Isla sleeping on her couch because I can’t make myself get out of her bed, much less go home.
Home. Where he’s supposed to be doing a follow-up interview in three weeks’ time. Where the whole place is filled with the food he’s been cooking in preparation.
“Hey babes, how you doing?” Isla lets herself into the bedroom, carrying some take-out boxes and a very large glass of wine. I hold a hand out for the wine and the wine only, but she doesn’t allow it. “You have to eat something.”
“I’m not hungry,” I tell her.
“I didn’t ask, did I?” she retorts.
Usually, Isla’s particular brand of tough love kicks me into gear, but right now, I just want to punch her for it. “I can’t, Isla.”
“Then no rosé,” she shrugs. “You’ll just puke it up again without food in your stomach.”
Fuck, she’s right.
I sigh, “Fine. Leave them both on the table. Where’s Fritz?”
“On the phone with Eamon,” she places the offerings on the bedside table. I mumble a thank you because even though this moment is so terrible, she’s my best friend and the most supportive, wonderful person in the world.
“Again?”
“Again.” The corner of her mouth raises into a sad smile, “He’s called and pleaded until Eamon’s hung up on him twice today. He’s resorted to calling from burner phones to get a hold of him.”
“Wow.”
Isla sniffs and blinks rapidly, “It’s hard for both of us, you know. Seeing you like this. Like a shell of yourself. I get why he’s so desperate. I even tried talking to him.”
