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Thank you all for reading. Please enjoy part 3.
Taylor R. Bullet
2009, May
"I will never hurt you."
"I'll make you a fallen angel."
I thought by now I would have been in the clear.
A clean getaway.
We'd packed up most of our things in the past week, preparing to get out of this school, but I had made the decision to leave California as well. I'd come to the realization that Micah wouldn't be able to have much of a life with me; a life of hiding away from the general public, steering clear of longtime friendships and job commitments. We could have handled telling his mom what was going on eventually, the whole, hey mom I'm dating a vampire talk, but I started to realize the beginning of the end when the job offers started coming in. Fortune 500 companies and cushy, high-end analyst and statistic jobs. High face-to-face contact. High personal relations.
And what if he wanted more?
What if he got up to the executive level?
What would I do if he came into the spotlight? And as the years would go past, what would happen when his slowed aging would start to show? He would have to sacrifice a job he loved and move as to not raise suspicion. In the end, I knew he would end up hating it, start to resent me, and hate me too.
It was best to leave, to leave him.
After he went to go drop his mom off at her hotel, I went back to our apartment to put my plan into motion. It would be a clean break, albeit a shit one. I'd throw all of my things into my car before he got back and head to the airport. He'd find the note I wrote him on our bed, explaining that this was for the best, that I didn't want to hurt him, but this was the only way.
I cringed thinking about it.
There was no easy way to say goodbye, and after how I'd hurt for so long after Andrew left me, I figured it would be better if he was angry with me, hated me, by just leaving that it would be easier for him to let go. That way, he wouldn't suffer the way I had for so long.
But that entire plan went to hell as his car pulled up into the driveway as I threw one of the final bins into the back of my hatchback. I cursed under my breath as he got out of his car, confusion covering his face.
"Rich, what are you doing?" he asked, walking over to me. I stood, closing the hatch on the car down, keeping my face as neutral as possible as my nerves all simultaneously began to scream. I said nothing and tried to keep my cool as he walked over to me, looking at all of the things I had stuffed away inside the vehicle.
"I'm picking up the moving truck tomorrow. We don't need to-"
"I'm leaving," I said quickly, cutting him off. His body went rigid as his words stopped. I already wanted to vomit.
"What do you mean you're leaving?" he asked, baffled, his brows knitting together. I took a deep breath, his eyes staring at me the entire time.
"I'm leaving, Micah. Leaving, leaving. California, it's not going to work," I told him, trying to move past him around the car. He trailed right behind me as I started toward the house.
"Richard, wait, what?" his voice broke at the end, and a hairline fracture formed over my heart. "Where are you going?"
I pulled open the front door of the house that we rented the upstairs apartment of, instantly going upstairs. I just needed to grab my keys, get in my car and go. If only it was that simple.
"East coast," I said quickly, pushing open the door to the apartment. "We can't have a life together."
"What are you talking about? Yes, we can," he shot back instantly. My keys, where did I put them? Maybe in the kitchen?
"No, we can't."
"Why?" he yelled. I spun around in the middle of the kitchen. He was red in the face and visibly shaking.
"You can't have a career with me! We can't go out to dinner. We can't have long term friendships. You won't age nearly as quick. You'd have to change careers..." I shook my head. I started off strong, but my voice had fallen in volume by the end.
"You may not think it now, but you'd eventually grow to resent me, to hate me. You'd be miserable," I told him. He looked absolutely flabbergasted and pissed with the way his eyes narrowed and lips were slightly agape. My keys were sitting on the counter and I grabbed them, shoving them deep in my pocket.
"Do I not get a say in any of this? You're just going to tell me how I'm going to feel and then leave?"
I expected him to yell, to scream at me at this point, but his voice sounded like he was practically in tears. I was too, but holding it in, stomping on my feelings with a theoretical boot. Seeing him visibly distraught like this fought against all of my knee-jerk reactions to comfort him, to help him.
But I had to be strong for this, for both of us.
If he didn't want to stab me in the heart after this, it would be all for nothing.
"Yes, that is exactly what's happening," I told him, pushing past him in the doorway, moving back toward the doors.
"So what were the last four years to you then? What was I to you?" he demanded, his voice sounding gnarly. I turned my head at the door to look at him, and the tears were flowing from his eyes like a river. Pain stung in my chest, and I bit the insides of my cheeks. His voice got soft and watery. "You can't tell me that it was all for nothing, Richard."
"It wasn't, but I can't let you ruin your life by staying with me," I said calmly, heartlessly.
"Isn't that my choice to make?" his voice squeaked. I could feel my eyes starting to get moist as some of my vision began to get hazy. I blinked fast a few times to clear it away. I turned the knob on the door.
"It can't be this time. I'm sorry." The look on his face... I wish I had looked away as I spoke. The heartbroken reality had fully come forward, and the amount of pain that wrinkled his face, red and blotchy with tears and anguish.
"Heaven and Hell, huh? I guess you were right."
And I looked away.
I pulled open the door and started back down the stairs, absolutely desperate to get out of there. I nearly sprinted down the stairs and out to my car, slamming the door behind me as I got in the driver's seat. I was only able to feel like I could breathe for a moment before the door to the house burst open, Micah moving from the doorway to the railing on the front porch. We both stopped, staring at each other, staring into his usually bright baby blue eyes that seemed dimmed by the sadness overwhelming him externally, me internally, and the tears glossing over the top. Eventually, I broke the invisible string between us as closed my eyes, turning my head away. I twisted the key in the ignition and the engine started. Without giving any second thought, I shifted into reverse, backing out of the driveway.
I didn't look back.
Present Day
Micah's Apartment
I flew up from wherever I was laying down, gasping for air, first in shock from the dream, and second in a searing, throbbing pain from the back of my head. It sent me reeling back against the softness beneath me.
I squeezed my eyes tight and let the pain that had struck me pass. As it lessened, my hands started to feel around, my fingers grazing overtop the soft coarseness of the fabric beneath me, the airiness that it held.
My eye opened, looking at the ceiling fan that was hanging down, spinning on a low level. I could hear the A/C blowing through the apartment, something that was rare in old buildings. I looked over my shoulder at the dark blue plaid comforter that my hands were gripping a little, squeezing it on and off. As I looked down the bed, my eyes fell on a pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt folded neatly at the end corner.
Slowly this time, I used my arms to help me sit up some, looking around the room. The black-out gray curtains were pulled mostly shut, but the late evening summer sun as still coming through the gap in the middle, making the room dim, but lit, and the door to the room was closed. It was Micah's bedroom, and I remembered that much, but all of the details I had ignored when...
I groaned, falling back against the pillows behind me, remembering how I'd lost control, nearly mauled him.
"Fuck!" I mumbled, running my hand down my face. Embarrassment and guilt overtook me as my eyes opened, staring at the seemingly bleak ceiling. The memory of his taste, the euphoric moment that his blood hit my tongue... I had completely lost myself. Seeing him standing there, his body, his skin, it was the first slip in the fault line.
A primer.
Tasting him had brought back everything that I had been without since our last time being together that closely, that intimately.
But it was no excuse.
Even now, the hunger was not there. It was completely situational and purely an example of a lack of my own self-control with him. I guess it could be said that I was desperate for him. The absolute need to have him in that way once more... it overtook my entire being.
A soft knock on the door had my head snapping over in that direction, my heart dropping into my stomach.
Micah.
Shit!
Fucking, goddammit, how in the hell was he even going to be? Angry? Furious? Christ, I attacked him out of nowhere, he had every right to-
"Rich?" Micah's voice asked cautiously. He had only cracked the door, not even poking his head through. I shifted, sitting upright. It worried me how timid he sounded.
"Yeah? I'm... I'm here," I said to him, my own tone unsure, wavering slightly.
I was worried, horrified honestly.
We had just gotten back to each other. Had I ruined it, shattered my true last chance into a thousand pieces?
The door opened and the soft curls of Micah's hair showed first, followed by his wide, worry-stricken baby blues.
Instantly, I was calmer. The lack of anger and the presence of concern settled me some. It still didn't help the tension that was growing between us.
"I thought I heard some noise in here," he said, the door opening as he slid his body between it and the wall. I dragged my knees up to my chest and wrapped my legs around them loosely.
"You have pretty good ears then," I joked timidly, casting my eyes down until I heard him chuckle quietly. He was leaning back up against his closet doors, arms behind his lower back.
"I think you may win that contest," he said, a small, awkward smirk appearing on his lips. But it seemed that as quickly that it appeared, it went away as his face faltered. Apprehension took over, and he bit his lower lip. "How's your head?"
Seemingly on autopilot, I reached back and rubbed my fingers through my hair, rubbing the skin where the slight throbbing pain was stemming from.
"Not too bad I guess," I said honestly. He shook his head narrowly.
"I forgot how fast vampires heal. You were bleeding, but I literally watch it seal itself closed as I washed it," he told me, sounding slightly astonished.
"What even happened, after I, I..." I didn't even want to say the damn words out loud. I swallowed hard and blew out a puff of air. "I attacked you." The words were quick and rough. Shame quickly made my face heat. He seemed uncomfortable as well if his tense muscles and awkward shifting of his weight from foot to foot was anything to go off.
"You tripped over Pearl and hit your head on the corner there," he said, and I followed his eyes as we both looked over at the now-infamous corner.
"I'm sorry, Micah," I said after a few moments of silence. He looked back at me and our eyes locked. "I'm so sorry for everything. Not just attacking you, but for how I left, how I hurt-"
"Stop," he said calmly, cutting me off. My mouth was left agape in the middle of a word. He pushed off the closet doors and moved to the foot of the bed opposite the clothes.
"Rich, honestly, I don't even want to think about that right now. We can talk about it later, but right now, I just want to make sure you're okay."
It was too pure the way his eyes peered into mine, looking for anything that might have been wrong, the caring concern. It made my stomach do flips and my heart flutter. It was no surprise that my eyes started to water.
"How are you not mad?" I asked breathlessly. "How are you not furious with me, Micah?"
The man moved down the bed and gently placed his hand on the top of my foot, squeezing it.
"I told you before, I had ten whole years to be angry, to mourn what could have been. Was I bit freaked out, yeah, but at this point, I-I honestly don't give a shit."
"I lost control!" I exclaimed, firing myself back up, but his hands clasped onto my kneecaps.
"And I'm telling you it doesn't matter," he said firmly but then winced a little. "I mean it does, because I like being alive, but like, I'm not... you get it, right?"
My face scrunched at the awkwardness of it as I placed my hands over his.
"Yes, yes I do," I sighed, hanging my head.
"How long was I out for?" I asked, getting off the Misstopic, wiping the tears out of my eyes.
"Just an hour," he said reassuringly. "You didn't miss anything."
We sat there in a not completely weird, yet not totally comfortable silence. I wanted to keep apologizing to him, somehow figure out how to make up for everything. At the same time, I wanted to caress his face in my hands and kiss him into oblivion... but the more that I thought on it, the grosser I felt inside. The guilt and regret welled.
"I should probably go," I whispered, but before I could even make a motion to leave, his hands tightened on my knees, distress filling his eyes.
"Don't, please," he told me, twisting the rest of his body to sit in front of me on the bed. "I don't want you to walk out." Again. Even though he didn't say it, I could almost see the word that was trapped on the tip of his tongue, and the guilt twisted in my gut. "Just... just change into the sweats and meet me in the living room. We'll pick a movie or a show, I just-" his words halted, and his face hesitated before his eyes fell, and then his head. "I know that this isn't all black and white." He said quietly, sounding defeated. "It's not normal, but our relationship has never been, so why would it be now, right?" he asked. I slowly nodded my head, and I reached my hands up to his wrist, squeezing lightly.
"Alright." The word came out as a whisper. I looked up at him and his eyes were shimmering in the dim light. I gave him a tight smile and leaned in to place a soft kiss on his forehead, breathing in his smell. "I'll meet you out there."
He smiled warmly, getting off the bed and cutely, awkwardly, shuffled his large frame out of the room as if he was a schoolboy scurrying from his first crush. For myself, it took a moment for me to fully get my bearings together before I changed into his clothes. He had been right, as I slid on the shirt, my body became lost in the amount of extra fabric, and the neck hole was a little too large to sit properly. The sweatpants fit loosely around my waist thanks to the elastic, but if there was any weight in the pockets, it would have probably drag it down. I folded my clothes haphazardly and put them on the end of the bed where Micah had set his.
As I moved to the door, I could hear the sound of Netflix turning on, the deep double bass sound making me pause, chuckling slightly to myself. Would this be what was defined as `Netflix and Chill'? I turned the knob on the door and opened it, stepping into the hall.
"What are you laughing at?" he asked. I was hardly laughing, still just barely chuckling.
"Something you are probably going to judge me for," I said as I moved down the hall. I got to the living room just in time to see him shrug at me.
"Depends what it is, but you aren't going to know until you tell me," he said, smirking. I frowned slightly, my lips thinning, hiding back a smile.
"That new aged saying for Netflix," I told him. Micah's eyes widened with a glisten for a second before he winked as me.
"Can't say I can judge you for that if I was thinking the same thing," he said honestly, wiggling his eyebrows.
Pearl looked up from where she had forced herself in at Micah's feet, her teeth baring and ears pulling back. A deep growl had both of us pausing and looking down at the protective animal.
"Pearl!" Micah scolded, more shocked than anything. I took another step closer and the dog sat up in an instant, taking a gargoyle-like guard stance in front of her owner. The growling didn't stop.
"I don't think she's too pleased with me right now," I said, grimacing, scratching the back of my head. Micah leaned forward and over in the chair and started petting down her neck. She glanced back for a fraction a second before returning the glaring eyes on me.
"It's okay. He's okay," he whispered to her, continuing to rub a line down her spine. She backed down, her growling stopped, but her eyes never left my body. As I walked up to the couch, her glare dared me to do anything to her beloved owner. I got down on my knees a foot or two away from her and sat back on my heels. Holding out my hand, I sighed.
"I don't blame you. I'm not my own biggest fan right now," I said, my eyes sliding up to look at Micah; his soft, somewhat sad eyes were looking back at me, his lips sliding down to grimace for a split second. Pearl slowly inched forward, crawling, until her nose was able to sniff my hand, licking it once.
"Sorry I tried to eat your dad. Can't say I won't try to again, but I'll ask first. I promise," I said quietly, moving my other hand to scratch behind her ears as she lapped at my hand and arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the smile grow on Micah's lips, sending a slim line of warmth up my chest.
"Pearl, at least he's honest," he said jokingly, and I could sense the eyeroll that accompanied it. After a few more seconds, I stood from the ground and looked at Micah.
"Can I join you?" I asked with a wary, small grin on my lips. His head fell back against the cushion with an easy smile.
"I'd love nothing more." The way he spoke, so relaxed and smooth, it was like the nerves had completely evaporated for him while I was left with the voice in the back of my head telling me something else was going to go wrong at any second.
I turned and sat back on the couch, sinking in a little bit to the soft cushions. Micah popped his recliner back, and I reached to the side and pulled the handle, sending me back as well. There were a few slow, lazy, seconds where we stared at each other, and butterflies filled my stomach from the warmth and affection that filled Micah's eyes. It was amazing really, that after all the bullshit I had caused for us, he still had the capacity to forgive me enough to grant me the opportunity to be here with him again.
To love him again.
When his head turned to the screen, I followed, looking at all of the shows and movie titles on the screen.
"What do you feel like watching?" he asked me. I shrugged, shaking my head.
"I don't have the slightest idea what's on this. After you, I never really got into too many shows or movies. Never got on the Netflix bandwagon when it happened."
"HBO?" He asked.
"Nope."
At that, his body twisted toward me with lighting speed for a human. There was a look of complete disbelief on his face.
"So you haven't seen `Game of Thrones' either?" he asked, stunned.
"Nope," I said again, starting to chuckle at his transforming bemused expression. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, before letting it out slowly as he sat back.
"Well, that is something that I'll have you introduce you to," he grumbled, flipping through a few categories of shows. "How about this?" he asked after about thirty seconds of flipping.
"Mother?" I asked, looking over the short description as the automatic trailer started playing.
"Post-apocalyptic, robots... I'm game if you are. I think it's pretty new too." He said, raising a curious brow.
"I'm game."
The movie was good, but being honest, I could hardly recall any of it.
My eyes were trained on the TV, but touching Micah had won over my senses' attention being near him. It felt amazing, the soft, warm grip of Micah's hand in mine that had drifted over no more than thirty-seconds into the film. When our fingers intertwined, I couldn't help but beam.
Eventually, he had scooted closer to me and our sides were touching. It was me that laid my head on his shoulder, followed by his head leaning onto mine. It reminded me of all of the times we had spent snuggled up in our dorm rooms or our apartment. The winter months too, which even being California, still got cold, and having a nice warm body to slide up next to under a blanket or two was always welcome. Having that warm body always be Micah, it was a game-changer.
"That was pretty good," he said quietly. The room was dark now, the glow from the TV shining back on us being the only light. Pearl was snoring softly on the floor in front of the TV stand.
He squeezed my hand a little. I nuzzled into his neck more. A warm chuckle stayed deep in his throat, almost like a hum.
"Ending was kind of fucked though," I said, pulling his hand more into my lap.
"Just a bit, but I'll take it. I honestly wasn't expecting all that much," he admitted, making me smile.
"Then why did we watch it?" I asked.
"Cared more about the company than the actual movie," he said straight, sighing contently after. "And it was good, which was an added bonus."
"It was."
"And so was the movie."
Oh.
Oh, okay.
"I can't argue with that," I murmured, lifting my head up, forcing him to do the same.
Being so close already, when our heads turned toward each other, the distance was already minimal, the tips of our noses almost touching. Neither of us spoke then, but our eyes were having their own conversation with each other. When they dropped to my lips, and the way his pupils grew and shrunk, I couldn't help but lean in and complete the circuit.
A muffled moan rumbled from his throat as our hands broke free, using them to grab purchase on each other's bodies. It wasn't rough, nor fast, but rather slow, deep, saturated with longing need and craved desires.
I felt him shift as he straddled my waist, his arms sliding up and down my sides as he sucked on my bottom lip, and his weight sinking me deeper into the couch. I could feel how much he wanted me, and I could guarantee he could feel how much I wanted him. He caressed my face as he broke the kiss, breathing heavy.
"Please come to bed with me, Richy."
The words that came out of me were stricken with raw, scratchy need. "Anything you desire, love."
With hardly any effort, I wrapped my arms around him; one under his butt and the other around his back as I picked him up.
"Jesus, I forgot how strong-" his words were cut short by my lips once again being pressed against his. Pearl attempted to follow us, but Micah shooed her between me peppering his face and neck with kisses. I couldn't see her face, but since she didn't insist, I hoped that she didn't feel too dejected for me stealing her dad away for a while.
And I wanted it to be a long, long, while.
Touching his body as we careened against the side of the mattress, falling into the bedding was just the start. Clothes were shed slowly as hands roamed and kisses followed the new frontier of unveiled skin. The hunger from earlier built quickly inside with every kiss that I laid on his skin, but this time, I kept it at bay, keeping it in constant check. By the time the last article of clothing had been removed, haphazardly tossed across the room, Micah laid there on the bed, splayed out like an Adonis buffet; biceps, thighs, core and chest, and if the desires weren't clear through the throbbing member between his legs, the blushed, smiling face looking right at me, only for me, was more than enough to tell me that he was good.
That he wanted this.
That he wanted me and only me.
"Please..." was all that was spoken in the nearly silent room before my body crashed on top of his.
It had been so long.
So ungodly long.
Our bodies gliding against each other like this, skin against skin, man against man, head to head and toe to toe, was like Heaven and Hell colliding. The burning desire was slow and surrounding, engulfing us with every move we made.
Sweat formed between us just from the intense tumbling of our bodies, and our lips touched just as much as our fingertips. It made things slick, and the taste of him salty as my tongue traveled south of his navel.
"Richard!"
"Micah!"
Our names, both moaned out in unison as our bodies connected, our foreheads pressed together, lips barely brushing, our breath intermixing. Our eyes were locked onto each other's faces, needing to see the other, to see that this was real, that we were real, that this, us, was happening. But watching his eyes go wide and his mouth tremble as I slid agonizingly slow into him, my hips shaking, pleading with me to move faster, was something absolutely otherworldly.
His hands squeezed feverishly at my sides, and my god I hope it would leave a mark.
The minutes passed by us, oblivious to the world as his body opened to mine. Our bodies connected, interacting in the most intimate of ways, ways that I hoped never to go without ever again.
Feeling him like this, having him in this way... I ached for it, greedily craving every piece of him below me, displayed spectacularly, hair mused from where my fingers kept running through it, muscles glistening from sweat and saliva. The number of times that our names were mumbled and moaned, or the ferocity of which "I love you" was spoken were left uncounted, but every single one cherished.
Even with how nostalgic and familiar everything felt, it was completely different at the same time. We were both different people now, life and time morphing us away from the lovestruck college couple we were, to the desperate, regretful, and angry souls, marred by time apart and pain of remembering what was, to who we are now.
And we were healing. We were finally mending the long open gouges in our hearts.
And it felt like home.
He felt like home.
After what could have been minutes, hours, or days, the hunger had built in my throat, the scratchy fire of need from earlier coming back full force, tag teamed by the spark in my groin alerting me that the end was coming. I knew Micah could see it in my eyes, and my fangs had probably descended a while ago.
I leaned in close to his ear, my voice sounding as raspy, needy, and nearly demonic as ever. "Micah, baby, please! Please for the love of God let me... I need..." I felt his hands grip the back of my neck and lower back.
"Take it, take me. Baby boy, I'm yours," he shuddered, his own body nearly vibrating at this point from his own need.
The moment that my fangs pierced his skin, I knew I was done for.
The sweet, delectable taste of his blood danced across my tongue as I sucked it down, warm and fresh. The love, as I held him tight in my arms, pummeling his body as he held me, clipped sounds and half-baked words coming from his mouth, thick and strong legs wrapping around my waist, it all made my eyes water, becoming overwhelmed with every conceivable emotion of love, joy, and euphoria imaginable.
If only I had been able to speak while I drank, to tell him how incredible he was, how much I loved him, needed him, to live and breathe and never leave my side again. How he was forever mine and I was forever his. I would never abandon him again. I couldn't think of it, and I wanted to damn myself to Hell from the moon and back for ever leaving him in the first place. But now, as I took a final pull from his neck, our bodies now still, I collapsed onto him, retracting my fangs from his body, licking lazily at the wound.
"I love you... so much, Micah," I whispered into his ear. I got a warm, happy hum in response, and I could hear how exhausted he was even from that. I had drunk deeply from him, while it also having been a decade since his last time. The fact that he hadn't completely passed out at this point was just flat out impressive.
Only a few moments later, there was a soft whine from behind the closed bedroom door. I gazed up, looking at the white painted wood like I would be able to see Pearl laying there on the floor. Again, she whined. Micah groaned groggily, his hand sliding up his face. The man was completely drained, literally and figuratively.
"She probably-" he yawned, his mouth stretching open. "She probably has to go outside." Micah started to pick himself up, pushing from his elbows, but I placed my hand on his chest, making him pause. He gave me a bleary, confused look like he had just woken up and wasn't completely with the situation.
"Let me take her. You're too weak right now," I said placidly, lightly pushing his torso back down to the mattress. He didn't resist, and his eyes were closed when the pillow embraced his head.
"Keys and the... the leash on coatrack... by the door." His words were slow and slurred, yawning between the breaks, the lack of energy seemingly making him drunk. I smiled, a warmth filling my heart as I watched him for several seconds, his body and face blissed out and used.
I slid quietly from the bed, finding the sweatpants and t-shirt Micah had loaned me, slipping them on before moving from the room. As suspected, Pearl was laying there directly behind the door. Her big beady eyes looked up at me expectantly and her ears her flopped over themselves, making little triangles.
"You need to go outside?" I asked her. She cocked her head to the side. "Uh..." We were in some weird staring contest where she seemed to be the only participant that knew what was going on.
"Bathroom? Potty? Pee?" I asked all together. One of them must have been the magic word she had been looking for as she skidded up, her paws slipping on the slick wood floor, and quickly trotted toward the door. When I rounded the corner, her tail was rounded up toward the sky and she was looking directly at the door. When she glanced back, the excitement she felt was translated through her wide eyes and stammering paws. On a little coat rack next to the door hung a red, rope-like leash, some plastic grocery bags all stuffed into each other, and a set of keys. Thankfully the ring only had two other keys on it besides his car keys, so figuring out which would open the building's front door wouldn't be a mystery. I slid the keys into my pocket and clasped the leash to her collar.
When the door to the front of the building closed behind us, Pearl was already pulling us down the stairs of the stoop to a patch of dirt surrounding a tree. As she did her business, I looked down the street toward the coffee shop, most of the street glowing under the shine of the yellow light of the streetlamps. Alleyways were dim between the blocks of townhomes and brownstones, and the tree's leaves rattled together in the light breeze. It wasn't long ago that I had first seen him again, aged and matured, standing in the shop, and here I was several weeks later, at his home, spending the night with him, taking care of his dog...
Pearl had finished her business and had trotted back up to me, her dark beady eyes looking up at me expectantly. I smirked and scratched the top of her head with my hand. She leaned into it.
"Cute little pup," I said to myself. She looked up at me again, tongue out, but then started walking back toward the steps. I followed behind before the leash pulled.
Back inside of Micah's apartment, I let Pearl off her leash, and she walked off down the hall. There was a quiet thump and the creak of the bedroom door opening. I had to stifle a chuckle thinking of her head-butting the door open so she could get in. By the time that I had made it back to Micah's room, Pearl had curled herself into a little silky ball at the end of the bed. She didn't move as I entered.
Micah laid there, the sheets rising just above his navel. The small streaks of dim light from the street that passed through his blinds streaked across his body like shooting stars in the night sky. Micah's one arm draped off the bed, head turned to the side, and his body looked as if he was dead. The only thing convincing me otherwise was the subtly rise and fall of his chest, and the slow rhythmic beating of his heart. It was a deep sleep, the same kind of deep sleep he only did after I fed from him.
And my heart felt full.
I quietly stripped myself of the clothing I wore and slid the covers back, sliding my body up against his. I pushed my arm under his pillow and wrapped my other arm around his large frame, my fingertips lightly gripping his side. His body tremored slightly at my touch, and then he shifted, pressing his side into my chest. His head moved half on the pillow and half onto my shoulder. I moved my face down into his hair and breathed in deep, allowing myself to indulge in the rich woody scent the man carried before kissing the top of his head.
"You are Heaven, and I am Hell. Hell loves Heaven," I whispered, before snuggling him further, settling into his body, and the soft sheets.
In truth, I didn't immediately drift off into a deep slumber as my lover had. I laid there, eyes closed, enjoying the simple luxury of being so close to him, holding him, knowing that once again, in what has felt like a proper eternity without him, he was finally mine.
The future would bring questions. Hell, I knew that I had questions I wanted to ask him. I knew that he had questions that he wanted to ask me. I would answer every single one and give as much detail and information that he desired, for, at this point, there was nothing that I wouldn't do for this man, this angel. My angel. My love.
My Micah.
My heaven.
Contentment. It was a feeling that I hadn't felt in a long time. Feeling like I was on solid ground again after so long. It enveloped me. Finally knowing that I wasn't alone, that I hadn't totally obliterated any chance of a future with this man, and that he was finally mine again after so long.
When I finally drifted off to sleep, I thanked whatever god may or may not have been in Heaven for bringing Micah back to me.
When sleep finally consumed me, it did so blissfully.