Author's Note: I doth not own Donnie Darko. Written with a dramatic sigh.
His lips felt like death.
"Kiss me again," she whispered, pulling him in closer to her. She never wanted that moment to end, never wanted to let him go. She never wanted to know how it felt to walk through the world alone again. A fire burned between them as he slid his fingers down her bare back, touchingtastingfeeling but certainly not thinking.
She had never wanted anything so bad, but she had also never been so terrified in all her life. Here was the one who held her heart, her soul, her everything in his hands, and it would be much too simple for him to break it. She was trusting him not to hurt her. She was loving him and trusting him to love her back.
And he did. Oh, how he loved her. He would have given her the stars and more. But all he had to offer was a sensuous touch and a lingering kiss.
She pulled away long enough to look up into his clear blue eyes. What demon lay beyond those spheres, she wondered? What nightmarish hell plagued his mind. What thoughts tormented him, drove him to the edge of madness?
She did not know. She only wished that she could take them away, for pain like that was not intended to be felt. Pain like that was much too much for even the strongest of men. It was enough to crush the soul, to rip the life right from someone. Someone weak like her, like him.
Weak alone, but strong together. Or so she thought. But in the end, weakness overcomes strength. Death overcomes life. Darkness engulfs the light, swallows it whole, and prevails.
Death. His lips felt like death. And she accepted it willingly. She welcomed it with open arms. And when it came, the memory of him was almost enough to overcome the shadows that ensnared her.
Almost, but not quite.