Thomas and Alana lie under the stars
"I wish I could die like they do in movies," Alana muttered and Thomas glanced sideways to meet her dark eyes.
Taking her cold hand in his as they lay on the freezing grass, he frowned a little. "Why do you say that?"
She turned her head to look at him, eyes soft, and a smile tugged at her round lips. "I don't know. They always die in such... beautiful ways, wonderful ways. In reality, death is quick..." she breathed deeply, "...and slow. It's painless and it's agonising. You never see much of that in movies. They just sort of fade. That's how I want to go. I want to fade."
Alana turned her head back to look at the millions of diamond stars above their heads in the black sky. He stared at her. In the dim light of the waning moon her ebony hair splayed out like a charcoal spider-web. Lips pursed together, Thomas debated replying, then let go of the feeling.
They stayed like that, in the pitch-dark and the comfortable silence, for an hour more, gazing at the stars and blinking slowly like all the time in the world was theirs. Thomas found himself crying. He didn't move as his face was cooled by the breeze. There was something so amazing and so awful about how he lay next to her.
Thomas felt like laughing at his own absurdity. As he wiped away the remnants of the tears, a giggle escaped.
"What's so funny?" she asked, not meeting his eyes.
"You. Me. This. How I feel. It's all funny I guess." His face fell as he spoke. There was a long pause, in which he started fiddling with the navy fabric of his shirt. Thomas spoke quietly: "I can't believe you're gone."