He's a depraved, brooding and desolate boy. She's a vengeful, manipulative, scheming girl. They're perfect for each other yet horribly matched. They're the perfect example of a good relationship built upon a foundation of lies.
My depraved, brooding, desolate darling.
"It worked." I told him. I laughed and curled into his chest, wide and warm. Safe.
"Well done, darling," He murmured softly in a tone that was not entirely proud.
I glanced up, annoyed.
His eyebrows were furrowed with pity. I didn't want to be pitied. Not by him, not anyone.
I ignored it and curled back into him. Safe.
Why couldn't he just be proud? I hadn't hurt anyone. It was hardly illegal. I had put so much hard work into this target, that his lack of pride made me feel wronged.
He pushed me away, and grasped me by my shoulders. "Gia." He said.
He looked at me, straight in the eye, bending low to meet my line of sight. "Gia." He said. "What are we going to do?"
"What do you mean?" I looked away.
"Gia," he said, and pushed my chin towards him with two fingers.
"Gia," he said. I looked at him reluctantly. Huh, at least he was calling me Gia, any more of that Regina crap and I... I have no idea what I would do.
"What will we do? What will we do when the police come knocking? What will we do when we need cash? How will we support ourselves? How can we live, always hiding and stealing?"
I never chose him for his words or thoughts. In fact, I wanted a soldier.
"I thought you wanted to be with me." I said. That hurt, how could he say that now? After all this!
"I do. I do," he soothed, "Can't we put it behind us? Find jobs? Have a family? Live at a permanent residence, apply for a bank account, go to university, all the normal things people do?"
He was talkative today. He usually liked to listen.
I pulled away from him and pushed him away. I grabbed my jacket.
He caught my arm. "Don't leave." He implored.
I looked at the floor. "Today I instilled enough fear to stop a drug dealing from dealing again. If we change the world a little by little, won't it be a better place?"
"No, darling. You exposed a drug dealer's addiction to his handler, and scared him away from the city for life. Another pawn will take his place. You're doing this for yourself."
He was right, but it felt good. Like I was making a difference. Was I making a difference? Wasn't I? Was he? Who the hell was?
I don't mind him talking. I was just surprised. He had a soft husky voice, like timber that had aged perfectly.
He stared deep into my eyes. "Let's end this and be happy."
"That wasn't all," I protested.
"You spiked his handler's son with their own recipe and wrote, 'I am a warning' in permanent marker on his back."
I smiled. "Yeah." It wasn't hard. It wasn't even dangerous. They're not dangerous, they're just desperate. When you know what they want, everything becomes easy.
"Let's end this and be happy." He pleaded.
What's happiness? People say I used to be happy, but was I really? I was happy. That's right, happiness can never be anything more than in the past.
I reached up and clasped my hands around the back of his neck, entangling my fingers into his short, dirty, ochre colored hair. I smiled exuberantly at him. I wanted to calm him down.
His slightly sunken but beautifully, murky, green eyes darkened with frustration.
I pulled his face down towards me and kissed him fully. He reciprocated passionately. His kiss bordered on desperation. His big, nimble hands clutched me closer to him still. I knew what he wanted.
I paused and leaned away.
He kissed me again without hesitation.
I withdrew and leaned into his chest, wide and warm. Safe.
"Aren't we happy?"
One day, we'll be in the past, and then we'll be happy. We'll always be happy. Will, future tense. Always, always an adverb. In the future we'll be happy, that's right because when we're in the future, everything else will be in the past, and only that in the past is happy. In the future, I'll be happy, right now.