Baldosas amarillas en guerra

He looked at me and I knew he saw everything I was feeling in my eyes. Without speaking he leaned in and kissed me. He slid his hands down the side of my waist as I ran my fingers through his thick, soft hair. I knew I'd be smelling sandalwood in my dreams for the rest of my life.

I followed, telling myself the pain in my ribs was just exhaustion and not my heart breaking into a million little pieces inside my chest.

The flower was so gorgeous —and so fragile. Like everything good in this crazy world. Like hope. Like whatever had started between me and Nox that we weren't allowed to finish.

Suddenly, he grabbed my hand. I startled at the warmth of his touch. The feeling of his skin against mine.

Kindness can be a weakness, too.

A kiss about the end of the world. A kiss that said good-bye, and I'm sorry, and I wish things could have been different. A kiss full of longing for the life we'd never have together, the things we'd never know about each other. But it wasn't long enough; it couldn't be. We were about to die.

Acting confident did give me a renewed sense of strength. How could what we faced possibly be worse than what we'd already been through?

He reached forward and took my hand, and my heart nearly skipped a beat. It sounded so beautiful. Just him and me. On our own. No more war, no more suffering. No more running. It was like a beautiful dream —except that it was impossible, no matter how much some part of me wished it could come true.

We were both silent for a long time, looking deep into each other's eyes. He was so close to me. I could smell his faint rich sandalwood smell. I could have reached up to brush their hair out of his eyes. I could have leaned in the barest amount and our mouths would have met. And I wanted it so badly my heart was thundering in my chest.

Because if you give up —then what is there left to live for?