Page 102 of Molt

“So much that you couldn’t let me die.”

“No.” The word comes out broken. He corrects himself. “I couldn’t.”

“That’s different.”

“I know.”

I rub my palm over my chest.

Two hearts.

Mine and his.

Except that isn’t exactly true.

His isn’t physically there.

I know that.

I still have one heart. One rib cage. One body.

But somehow my nervous system recognizes his rhythm. Like my body is learning him.

Rehearsing.

“How did I die?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“I have been trying.”

I watch him. His face looks thinner than it did hours ago. Actually thinner. There’s a hollow beneath one cheekbone that wasn’t there before. The skin around his eyes has begun sinking inward.

I hate that I notice. I hate that I know exactly how much of him has disappeared.

“Maybe we need to touch again.”

“No.”

“That’s how we remembered.”

“No.”

“August.”

“No.” He pushes himself upright. “I am done using your body like a fucking doorway.”

“My body is already doing whatever the hell it wants.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to help it.”

“We need answers.”

“And every answer costs me a piece.” His voice cracks.

I flinch.