50-Kit
Feather-light kisses trail from my neck to the corner of my mouth.
“Wakey, wakey,” Zach whispers, lulling me fully into consciousness.
I rub my lids, still half asleep. She’s snuggled against me, hair a halo of curls across my chest. Even in the darkness, she shines as though she’s lit from within.
“That’s it, rockstar.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” I say, sitting up. Panic pricks at me. “Are you okay? Wh—”
“Hey, no, sorry.” She shakes her head quickly and cups my face in both hands. “It’s okay, nothing’s wrong. I want to show you something.”
A smile tugging at my mouth, I relax, reaching instinctively for her waist. She smirks, pushing my hand gently from her hips.
“Not that.” She slips out of bed, moving with a restless excitement as the telly illuminates her curvaceous nude figure. “Get up.”
The playful heat drains from my chest as I look at her, replaced by something quieter, steadier.
“Or,” I counter, leaning back on my elbows, “you could come here, because I’m certain nothing you show me is going to beat what I’m seeing right now.”
She rolls her eyes, but her grin betrays her.
“Get dressed,” she says, my sweater bouncing off my chest as it’s tossed at me. “When we get back, you can have me for breakfast.”
That gets me to my feet so fast she giggles, warming the entire room.
We dress in an intimate quiet, appreciating each other’s bodies from a distance.
Although its easily large enough to slip over her head, Zach drapes the necklace around her throat, and I help her with the clasp.
We lean in at the same moment, our lips brushing in a kiss that threatens to undo me entirely.
“Control yourself.” She jerks back as I cage her in my arms. “Come on, we’re going to miss it.”
We tiptoe down the hallway, past the elevator, down the stairs, and out into the cool night.
The rental car waits like a loyal pup, and after having a smoke, hoping to slip past Yensil unnoticed, we ease into the car.
Thirty seconds after we turn onto the main road, a pair of headlights appears in the rearview mirror.
My stomach sinks and warms at the same time.
Bloody fucking hell; even at five in the morning, he’s impossible to shake.
Stopping at the only place open at this hour, we grab some watered-down coffee from the petrol station and drive, the Mississippi River a dark ribbon beside us.
After the accident, I don’t like driving at night.
My pulse ticks faster, memories flickering like headlights in fog.
Especially not with the water so close, and the winding road so narrow.
“Music?” Zach asks gently, no doubt noticing the way I grab the handle above me.
I nod, and she puts on a familiar classic. Tension eases as I close my lids, concentrating on how my synaesthesia reacts to the notes, harmonies, and layered instrumentals.
Twenty minutes later, she turns onto a dirt road. A gravel lot appears, swallowed by shadowed trees. At the edge of the high beams, a set of old wooden stairs begins before climbing into darkness. Yensil pulls beside us, engine idling low.
“Okay.” Zach turns off the car. “You ready?”
Before I can protest she’s out, grabbing her camera bag from the back. I unclick my seatbelt and open the door, the woodsy chill fogging my breath.
“Is this the part where you kill me?” I ask, remembering her prior remarks to Seth.
“I know it’s creepy. But I promise it’s worth it.”
“And exactly what do you plan on filming out here?” I ask, gesturing to the surrounding pitch.
She clicks the lens on and immediately blinds me with a flash. “You.”
I groan, wrapping my hoodie tighter around me. “I was under the impression that I’m strictly to rest while on holiday.”
“I know, I know,” she says, stalking around the hood to approach me, her lips pouted and eyes pleading, “but I can’t replicate this anywhere else. Think of the fans.”
“The fans?” I stroke my chin, trying not to give in to her adorable pout.
“Okay, fine.” She clicks her tongue and pulls her hood over her head, crossing her arms. “Do it for me. Pretty please?”
She has absolutely no idea what she does to me. I’ve already caved. I let out a long, suffering sigh. This place looks like it’s been abandoned, yet I swing my arm toward the dodgy stairs ahead.
Delighted, Zach claps before jumping straight into my arms. Her weight settles against me as I catch her, her head brushing my jaw.
She smells like tobacco, tangerines, and me.
I adjust my grip on her thighs, trying not to think about how easily she trusts me with her body.
As she loops her arms around my shoulders like it’s the most natural thing, my heart gives a stupid, traitorous kick.
“Come on then,” I mutter, trying for annoyed, but she only kisses my neck, knowing I’d do it again.
I carry her to the first stair. Through the trees behind us, the faint glow of Yensil’s headlights makes the wood steadier beneath my feet.
The rotting planks groan as she moves ahead with ease.
I follow, lungs growing heavier with each endlessly-steep incline.
I’m fit, yes, but this is something else entirely.
My legs have gone jelly. Still, I keep climbing because she asked me to.
By the time we reach a small five-by-ten platform, I’m bent over, hands on my knees, trying not to wheeze as I regret ever smoking. I glance up, ready to assure Zach that this in fact is going to kill me.
The world opens.
Dewy mist curls along the treetops. The first whispers of dawn spring across the horizon in a lilac glow, a vast river valley stretching beneath us like a miniature Grand Canyon. An eagle passes a few dozen metres overhead, enormous and silent. I stare at the scene before me, utterly gobsmacked.
Zach sits on a lone bench haphazardly nailed together, camera in hand, watching me experience this with a soft smile. I dig into my pocket to retrieve my phone and take a few photos. As she kneels to capture the first pink streaks of sunrise, I turn the phone on her.
Because nothing, not the valley, sky, or majestic eagle, compares to that face.
“Take your shirt off,” she says suddenly, still staring down her lens.
Skidding my trainers along the wet planks, I pocket my phone. “A bit chilly to go shagging out here, innit?”
She tosses her head back and snorts. “I want a sunrise silhouette shot for the documentary.”
I exhale, relieved and disappointed. The feelings slam into each other like conflicting tides, one pulling me toward her, the other dragging me back into myself. Heat crawls up my neck, then drops away just as fast, leaving a cold, hollow throb in its place.
My vision blurs at the edges—not from tears, but the sheer whiplash of desiring and fortifying simultaneously.
It’s a reminder of what I am to the world. To her. A shot she needs for work. God, I want more, but I don’t think she does. Zachary crossed the line between artist and subject, then decided it wasn’t worth it.
That I wasn’t worth it.
I take off my hoodie, shivering as my dick shrivels up and my nipples harden.
Forcing her lips into a frown to keep from fucking grinning, she absolutely notices.
Zach positions me facing the sunrise, arms out, body angled just so.
Trying not to let the disappointment show, I stand there as the sky shifts from lavender to dusty rose, then marigold to tropical blue.
My arms ache. I can’t feel my nose, and I’m sure my fingers are asleep.
“Can I put my shirt back on?” I ask through chattering teeth.
“One more minute.”
Of course, like a good lad, I stay.
She steps behind me and helps put my sweater back over my head, her hands warm as she tugs it down my torso. I turn, guiding her gently in front of me. Resting my chin atop her head, we watch the sun break the horizon.
“Kit,” she whispers, the mournful crack nothing like how she called to me just hours ago.
She doesn’t need to say more; I know. This is a moment, a temporary sliver of something beautiful. I cradle her against me, kissing her curls. The sweetness of it aches, too fragile to hold without fear.
Endymion would say we’re fated. But fate alone doesn’t guarantee happy endings.
Simply wanting someone isn’t enough. It’s not enough to keep the branch of a relationship sturdy.
Branches bloom beautifully in spring, heavy with promise, but if the heartwood is compromised, no amount of wanting will keep it from splitting under its own weight.
When the bough breaks, it doesn’t snap clean. It splinters. Fibers tear. The wound runs jagged and deep. You can brace it for a while; tie it up with rope, pretend the fracture isn’t spreading—but the tree knows you can’t mend it.
Eventually, you have two choices: saw the damaged limb down to save the rest of the tree or let the entire thing rot from the inside out. Either way, the branch will never be what it was.
Wanting and loving with all your might won’t change that.
She weaves her fingers through mine. Zach squeezes, three quick, simple pulses, saying the unspoken truth in humanity’s universal language. Breath trembling, she leans against my chest. I hold her with painful understanding.
This sunrise is ours.
I cherish it; drinking in the scent of her hair, her warmth against me. We’re broken and grieving, carrying lost love so deep it has carved hollows inside us. We can’t fill each other. Not yet. The truth settles heavy, but delicately honest.
Maybe not ever.