Eve
He shifted forward, inch by inch, his voice unraveling with every word.
"I dream about you. Not the nightmares—I deserve those. But the real ones. The ones where you smile, where you touch me like I'm still human. I wake up choking on them. On the thought that I burned the only good thing that ever looked at me like I could be more than a curse."
He reached for me again, then stopped himself. Hovered.
"I love you. I love you in the way broken things do—sharpened and sick and hungry. I love you, and it's killing me."
I felt it before I saw it—the shudder in his frame. The hiccup in his breath.
Then—
He wept.
Not a soft, cinematic thing. A collapse.
His head bowed, shoulders curling in like he wanted to bury into the floor. His hands trembled against the ground. His chest heaved.
And from his eyes—
Red.
Not tears.
Blood.
Dark, sluggish, seeping like the grief had ruptured something not just emotional—but elemental. Like the Flux inside him was mourning too.
