“I would hold you,” Seven responds in a strained voice. “And never let go.” Our fingers can hardly touch through the obstruction, but the tiniest flicker of his skin touching mine is like a defibrillator to the heart. I’m shocked to the point of near unconsciousness, my soul reignited and set alight. “What about you?” he asks. I curl my index finger so it hooks around his. “I’ve spent my whole life praying for it to end,” I admit. “More than once, I’ve tried to speed up the process myself. Death is all I’ve ever wanted in this world.” Seven’s breathing hitches. “And now?” “Now,” I echo
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