Page 23 of At The End There Was You

“Why would I do that to the poor woman who I’m turning into a cockroach?”

Winter was now grinning at him and that somehow always made him frown like he couldn’t make sense of it. “Take care of me when you turn me into a cockroach, will you?”

He finally lowered himself down to her, crouching just above her, their faces closer. She thought him handsome even upside down like that. “Presuming I’d keep you.”

“You’d keep me.”

He reached a hand to her face and carefully pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. “Go to bed, Winter. It is getting late.”

“I will, only because you’re much nicer in my dreams.”

His lips twitched with amusement. “Am I?”

“No. I lied. You’re the same there, too.”

He smiled then. Alas, it was very faint and dark and just as brooding as the rest of him, but he was smiling—at her. “I'm nothing if not consistent.”

“Thank you for today.”

Azriel’s demeanour shifted entirely, and if it had been still day and bright, Winter would have mistaken him for the darkest thundercloud. “Nothing to thank me for, Winter.”

She pushed up and stood, turning to him after dusting off all the dry leaves from her robes. “I decide that.”

“Have a good night, Winter,” he said, standing to leave.

“No. I’ve decided against it.”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. “Decided against having a good night?”

“Yes. I want to have a bad one. Live in your shoes for once and see how the other miserable unthankable side feels.”

His head lowered and his shoulder started shaking. Still somewhat baffled, Winter realised it a tiny bit too late that he was laughing. Azriel took off his glasses and rubbed hand over his eyes, grinning. “Alright, Winter, no need to go that far, I’ll apologise.”

“For what?”

“For deciding what you can or cannot be thankful for.”

“Thought you didn’t care for apologies.”

“But you do.” He put his glasses back on and turned away from her. “Go to bed now.”

She had gone to bed right after he’d told her to, but she’d not been able to fall asleep for long after. Thinking. Thinking of the past four days. She couldn’t find anything to think of prior to them. So, she’d stayed up late to come up with a reason why nothing had been memorable enough for her to remember before these four days, and why these four days had so much for her to think about.

Three days until the end

He looked tired when she returned to the library on the fifth day. Something rested heavily on Winter’s chest when she looked at him in this new dishevelled form that she was sure no one had ever seen him in. There was much certainty in her thoughts concerning him. Like he’d asked the other day, she also just knew about him—it was like a sense, a foreboding that scared her senseless.

Not bearing it any longer, she reached him and took his hand before she had time to think against it. “Let’s spend an hour outside. I miss the sun and it’s finally out today.”

“Have a break and go stay in the sun for a little while. Take your friends, too,” he said, but still held onto her hand, his thumb working back and forth over her skin, so softly and tenderly that gooseflesh chased up her arm and then all over her body.

Winter shook her head and pulled onto his hand until he had no choice but to get to his feet. They were so close that her neck ached at the angle when she looked up at him. “Take your book. Contrary to popular belief among corpses like yourself, you can also read outside.”

He leaned down until his face was entirely too close to hers that she could taste his scent of vetiver and sandalwood on her tongue. “Is it so?”

She nodded and made to pull away from him before her mouth would start watering just for a little taste of his skin, but he held onto her tightly. “You’re holding my hand.”

“I suppose that is what they call it when two people join their hands.”