Adrian nodded against Logan’s chest. Within moments, his breathing evened out, his limbs heavy and trusting, as if even in sleep he knew Logan would hold him together.
And Logan did. Held him close. Held him tight. Held him like he was afraid the night would steal him away.
He intertwined their fingers and felt the warmth of Adrian’s palm resting against his own, a quiet weight settling in his chest, yet sleep did not come.
Instead, he devoted himself to memory, counting the measured cadence of Adrian’s breaths, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest, the faint flicker of lashes against his skin as dreams moved through him. His hand traced slow, tender circles across Adrian’s back, each touch an act of remembrance, knowing he might never be granted this again, knowing that tomorrow carried no certainty.
So he remained awake, holding on, because this mattered, because it was everything, because if time proved merciless and fate sought once more to take Adrian from him, he needed this moment carved into his very being: the weight of Adrian in his arms, the way their bodies met and fit as though shaped for one another, the way love, revealed itself in the stillness between breaths. And so Logan kept his vigil, and he loved Adrian in the only way he knew, by refusing to let go for as long as the night would allow.
Chapter 17
Beneath the Surface, Still Breathing
Time is running out.
The sands slip through my fingers,
Each grain a moment I should have had with you.
You are the last wish I whispered to the world,
The last prayer I wept into the night.
And for a moment, I had you.
I always believed in the next world.
I always hoped there would be something beyond this,
Somewhere I could love you forever,
Somewhere where bodies do not break,
Where the ocean does not take,
Where time does not steal what is sacred.
Your touch is the remedy of death.
This is the power you carry,
To chase away the shadows,
To drag me back from the edge,
To anchor me to life when I am drifting toward the dark.
But the end is near now.
I feel it creeping into my bones,
Settling in the spaces where warmth once lived.
The weight of it presses against my lungs,
The hush of it lingers in mybreath.
Life is slipping through me, slow and silent.
