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Three days had passed since the deal. And even as they laid there on the couch, breathing peacefully with all the color returned to their face- he still couldn't wipe the image of their ill and broken body from his mind. He catches glimpses of their hollowed face and red eyes in the shadowy corners of their house when he spaces out for too long. Outside the window, when the clouds grow dark and gray like pools of ash Asra is reminded of the crematorium, and the suffocating smell of burning flesh. He only hoped that once they woke up, he would be so overcome with relief and excitement that those darker memories would finally fade away. He was more than ready to move on and start anew, yet he was beginning to fear it would be a lot easier said than done.
Asra moved into the small kitchen, beckoning the salamander to start a fire on the stove, all without taking his eyes off of them for a second. He had to make sure that when they woke up, he was there for them. That he would be the first thing they saw, that he could ease their headaches and assure them that everything was going to be okay.
The kettle shrieked and for a second Asra felt a headache of his own coming on. He poured out two cups, then settled down on the floor right next to them, placing their drink lovingly on the table.
God, he could stare at them forever. Their face was so familiar to him now; he’d memorized the curve of their cheeks, the tint of their lips, the placement of their eyebrows. He knew exactly how they would move, if they were to speak right now. Asra smiled to himself as he recalled his favorite of their expressions; the annoyed pouts, the face they made when they released a laugh they’d been holding back- even their stern little glares when he’d done something wrong. He was obsessed with all of it.
They had him, all of him, and he wasn’t going to give that up.
He sighed and looked down into the cup of tea he held. His reflection stared back at him, complete with hair that was too messy, eyes that were too dark, and an expression that was all too tense. He’d tried to take care of himself while they were sleeping, but it was so much more difficult. Everything seemed trivial when they were in so much pain.
Asra downed the rest of his drink and set it next to the second, full cup on the table.
Every night he made an extra cup for them, and every day they did not wake, and he dumped the cold tea out.
He allowed his lips to linger over their forehead, and press a soft kiss to them. As he moved away slowly, he whispered into their ear:
“I love you.”
And- perhaps it was wishful thinking- but he thought their lips curved into a hint of a smile.