Epilogue
Ari
The world was different when you no longer had to worry about time.
All I focused on now was his body standing beside mine and the feeling of the cold railing pressed into my palms. Traffic murmured far beneath us, but no one glanced up towards the sky.
No one ever did. The city breathed wherever we went like a living thing, and we simply existed in the spaces between it, filling the shadows in at night.
I never understood what he meant when he said he had lost the meaning of time, but now I knew.
Days slid into weeks, and weeks melted into something softer and less defined until the social construct of keeping time seemed to disappear altogether.
I’d stopped counting the first time I realized I didn’t need to anymore.
I watched V as he observed the street below, still deliberately half-removed from the world beneath us as the humans moved on with their monotonous lives.
Some things never changed. I shifted my body slightly, brushing my arm against his, and his hand moved to mine without looking, lacing our fingers together to acknowledge my presence.
To let me know I’m still wanted, simply because he knew it was one of my biggest fears.
“What are you thinking about?” His voice was only loud enough for me to hear.
A smile made its way to my face, and I let out a small breath instead of a laugh. “Nothing. Just remembering.”
When I turned my head, he was already looking at me, his steel gaze searching for the thing I’ve learned he needs. He thinks he is a monster. He thinks that one day I will wake up and use the knowledge of his existence against him, but remembering is a weapon I refuse to wield.
I could feel it even before he said anything—his instinct to destroy, to sever ties with any living soul, and to disappear back into a life of solitude and shadows. Instead of letting him falter, I pressed my lips to his knuckles and smiled when his breath stuttered.
“I’m still not going anywhere. I promise.”
He stood like always, studying my face as he searched for the cracks that never appeared. Searching for a sign that I’m lying, but I’m not. Whatever he found must be enough, because his finger slipped beneath my chin, tilting my mouth towards his.
Hunger rolls through me in a low distant wave, but not sharp or urgent like it had been at first. Just a familiar reminder that our nineteen days have almost passed again. Soon we will go out. Soon the night will ask things of us, and we will happily oblige. Together.
But for now, his lips are pressed to mine in the dark, and the thought of blood is pushed aside as he laces his fingers through my hair. It’s easy to be loved when it hurts like this, and I would do anything for it to stay this way forever.