He is in agony, and I am in his arms, not quite sure what is going on, but hanging on for dear life because what else can I do. I hang on for his dear life, which seems weary and thin, more faded than the last time I saw him, and I close my eyes because I do not want to watch his war against the world, with me in his arms.
I surrender myself to him and his pain, which is eating him alive even as I try to keep his other, bitter demons at bay. I throw myself into the ring, even though I know that certain doom is waiting there for both of us, because I don’t want him to suffer alone. I am here because I love him, and to love him means I can never leave him, especially not in moments like this.
We used to brilliant. And beautiful. All over this fucking city. And now we are hunkered down, under blankets and in pain, waiting for a sense of finality to finish this chapter that is filled with less of the glitter and the orges and more with darkness. The devil. Destruction. Despair.
This never could have been avoided, but I still didn’t see it coming because I didn’t believe in the future. The future was a lie all those years ago, and now that it’s here, it is ugly, and there’s nothing we can do about it but let it wash over us. As we writhe in each other’s arms, we tell each other that we have each other, and that’s the most meaningful thing we could have in this our moment of pain or in any other better, brighter moment. We have each other. That’s all that matters.
Hold onto me in the night. Soon the day will break, and you’ll float out into the sea without me, where you will find your peace, which is without me, but I would rather set you to drift into peace alone than make you sit here in violence with me for any minute longer than you have to. Because I love you, and I am trying as hard as I can to take this pain away from you, and love is pain.