it's just a little white lie, adna

[adna]

I will commit my soul to your door tonight, and I'll last 'til the gas fumes float on higher

There is something about the way that he laughs that calls her back to the surface.

It is like taking a breath of air and she finds that her head clears when she looks at him now. Sees something like mirth in the smile that just glances across the edges of his mouth. Her heart swells in her chest, painfully beating against her ribs, and there is something like a smile that finds her lips too. It is brief and brilliant and her thin face glows a little more brilliantly in the afterglow of it.

“Maybe,” and her voice has more levity in it this time as she considers him, as she continues to feel the distance between them like a rubber band stretched too taut. She might snap if she doesn’t find relief from it, she thinks, but she is not the first to cross to him, to reach for him, to pull him into her orbit.

She bites her lip but stops when she feels the sharpness of her fangs nearly tear into it.

Instead she swallows again, forcing herself to study the beautiful angles of his face—the plainness that he seems to despise and yet looks so brilliantly perfect to her. She could study the gravity of it for years and never grow tired, she thinks. She could lose herself in the amber of his eyes, in the solemnity of his smile, in the way her heart drops when he says her name or just looks at her. At the way she fractures near him.

“Good,” she manages, and her mouth grows dry.

Another smile flickers across her face as she studies him and then dies out in a flame of hunger.

in a dying love I'm nothing but a stone cold liar but, oh, I got an iron in that fire

Adna