all the ashes in my wake;

 Memory Theatre

May 2013 - After The Diner
 

Leon walks her home. She didn't want to get a cab. He holds her hand, tries to keep her steady - her steps are uneven and heavy and she leans against him despite herself. They stop twice so she can throw up over the curb, shaking and eyes watering. She leans into him as he holds back her hair, heaving and gasping for breath - her Calling has taken its toll this time.
 

Surely they were made for so much more than this?
 

She drops the keys twice before he takes them from her shaking hands to open up her apartment. The one she bought with the money she got from that friend of hers that died a little while ago. At least she's not living with her father anymore. He doesn't know where to look - he just stands there, breathing it all in, breathing her in. Cigarette smoke, gin, dusky perfume and that smell that he can only describe as Scarlett. There's a small voice in the back of his mind asking what he's doing here, why is he here, in her apartment - some sacred place he doesn't deserve to be.
 

The answer comes when he watches her run to the kitchen sink to throw up once more, bile spewing from her lips as her shoulders shake. He hurries clumsily over, pulls her hair back and holds her hand, this is what he's supposed to be doing. This is what he can do.
 

He helps her peel off her shredded jacket, staring only for a slight moment at the skin of her shoulders through the torn fabric of her shirt - flashes of black ink, the only sign of her wings ever being there. She's still shaking, her eyes unfocused and bleary as she tries to find the direction of her bedroom. He follows like a shadow, halting as she collapses on the bed, shivering.
 

"Don't go."
 

The words make his stomach lurch. She's not looking at him, her insides churn and the room spins - her Calling-high still running through her veins like an overload of adrenaline. Her heart flutters in her chest, too quick, too fast - this all feels wrong. This isn't right.
 

"Okay." he says finally, his gaze resting on her cheekbone. "I won't go anywhere, I promise. I'm right here."
 

She says something else. He's not sure what to do. He stands, motionless for a moment until she speaks again. "Come here." And even then, he doesn't know what to do.
 

It takes a few moments until Scarlett speaks again, telling him what she wants. Shaking, he crawls onto the bed next to her. He can smell her again, in the pillows, in the sheets. He's suffocating in her and he still lies down next to her anyway. She takes his hand and her skin burns against his, her hand still shakes. Quietly, he reaches for her face again, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone and he can feel tears in his eyes again and dammit he needs to not do this, not right now.
 

"Get some sleep, I'll be here." The words help him center himself, remind him of what he's doing. He's doing this because... because there's these feelings towards her he can't explain, doesn't want to explain. He cares. He wants her to be okay again. He wants her to swear at him and poke his arm and make faces at him. He wants her to be Scarlett again.
 

"I saw cupcakes on the floor." she says, "When we left."
 

He could lie. He could lie. It's not the right time to ask, it was stupid - a dumb idea. She'd probably laugh at him anyway, throw them away - say something cruel, something like that. He could lie - but the lie doesn't come: "I was... I was gonna ask you to prom."
 

"Prom?" she looks at him, frowning.
 

He feels a lump in his throat, he looks away from her. His free hand closes into a fist despite himself: "Uh, yeah."
 

He can hear his heart in his ears in the silence that follows. His hands feel clammy and she's still holding his hand - her too-hot skin against his. The lump in his throat won't seem to go away, his face burns. He should have lied, he should have said someone else had dropped them - something, anything. 
 

"Sure, okay." 
 

When he turns his head to look at her, her eyes are closed. He lies there, speechless, his hands still clammy and his heart still racing. His lips purse, forming a thin line. He feels like he should be smiling, some stupid, happy smile - but he just watches her, still holding back his fear. 
 

She's asleep.