The Bad Ones

by Stylo Fantome

Only us,” she whispered, then dug her nails in and dragged them down his back. He hissed as she reopened the wounds. “It's only ever us, Dulcie. Now, yesterday, tomorrow. Whenever. You get that, right? You believe that?”

“You could've just asked. I have a pocket knife,” he informed her. She snorted and continued taking turns, navigating down a long and winding road. “Oh, yes. And I'm sure you would've whipped it out and sliced open your palm at the first mention of blood,” she chuckled. “Yes, I would've.” “Why?” “Because it would've been you asking me to.”

Please. Please trust me. Please understand me. Please let me love you in the only way I know how. Please don't let me destroy us.

“No. I'm scared of myself,” she breathed. “Don't be scared,” he said, then he leaned in and kissed a tear away. “Don't ever be scared. It kills me. From now on, tell me whenever you're scared, and I'll take away your fears. Tell me when you're hurting, and I'll bleed for you.”

“I love you,” he was fighting for breath. “I love you so goddamn much, I would tear apart this whole world for you.”