I'm the hero of this story
I don't need to be saved
I don't need to be saved
When she kisses him, just below the jawline, just above the pulse, he knows that tonight, at least, he won’t be lonely.
And that’s enough, even when she says home like it’s a place he can still go, a door he can open. It doesn’t matter what his mind does, what it laments, when his heart kicks up to a quicker rhythm and his blood runs just a degree hotter. Tonight, the body is enough.
He says nothing more, only leaves the last of his coins on the table with a knock, like an offering to the ferryman. Then he rises, his gaze anchored to hers, and leads her from that warm, loud room into the quiet, cold streets and to a place that is not home for either of them. But it will do well enough, for two transient ghosts.
