Page 45 of Bonds of Starfall

Kit sat on the edge of Rin’s bed, tugging the comforter up to her chin and stroking her white hair away from her face. She slept so peacefully all the time; he envied it.

She stirred, and he watched as she woke up and realized that he was watching her.

"Kit?" she murmured, eyes closed.

"I’m here, Rin." His fingers lingered on the curve of her cheekbone. "Right here. You fell asleep on the couch, so I carried you to bed to keep your neck from getting sore."

Rin hummed, finally blinking up at him. "What time is it?"

He glanced at his watch. "A little past midnight. Go back to sleep, Rin. You—you need it."

Absently, she rubbed a hand over her chest, brows furrowing.

"Do you need some more pain reliever?" Before she could respond, Kit was already reaching for the small pill bottle at her bedside, next to a room-temperature glass of water. She started to reach for the glass, but he tutted under his breath. "Let me take care of you, sprite. I need to do this."

She let him place the lip of the glass against her mouth and tilt it back, then he placed the small white pill on her tongue, and her lips wrapped around it, warm against his fingertips. His stomach twisted.

Fuck.

His body had never known pleasure in this life. He had never knownherbody in this life. But he had in their past lives. In the first, just once, before she had fallen ill in their tiny village and died. In the second, he had her, over and over again. In the Stars, against the domed window, on their shared bed, on the kitchen table, on the run from his father in alleyways—they had both been insatiable. He wondered if she’d still make the same pleased noises when she shattered on his tongue.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed the pill. "Thank you. My chest still hurts a bit. From the electric shocks, I guess." She shrugged it off as if getting your heart shocked back to life was normal.

"How are you so calm about this?" Kit couldn’t help but ask, voice barely audible.

Her head shifted on the pillow. "What do you mean?"

"Death," said Kit. "How are you so calm about it. How is this so easy for you?" He had always wondered—why she never seemed fazed by the Nova in her heart, the invisible clock ticking.

The very thought made his throat dry. She would be taken from him too soon again in this life, and he couldn’t do anything about it. It hurt, it burned, it made the familiar feeling of consuming dread well up like ocean waves inside him.

The moonlight filtered in through her sheer, white curtains, making her whole room feel like a hazy dream. He could say anything, do anything, and it wouldn’t matter in the morning.

The side of her large shirt slipped off her shoulder, dangerously low, where Kit could almost see the soft pink of her nipples, where they brushed against the material. His fingernails cut into his palms as he stared; he hated himself for noticing. He wanted her so badly—but not just her body. He wanted toloveher, toknowher, in this life.

"I’m not scared of it. I mean, maybe a little bit?" Her voice was quiet and tinged with sleep as the pain reliever started to take effect. "But it’s just something I’ve had to come to terms with. We all will—it’s just a little sooner for me." She grew quiet, and Kit just stared at her, drowsy and beautiful, no matter what she did.

Her grey eyes met his, and her hand inched closer on top of her thick blanket, the tips of her fingers brushing his. His pinky twitched, desperate to touch, but fear always held him back from crossing that line.

"I imagine dying is like getting a new shirt."

The air conditioner kicked on, a soft hum as it rustled a small piece of her hair and forced it into her eyes.

"A shirt?" Kit reached forward to tuck her hair back behind her ear, fingers dancing along the side of her pale face.

Nodding, she shakily exhaled. "A shirt, yeah… Imagine you have a shirt you love so much, and you’ve been wearing it for years. There’s little holes at the bottom, and the fabric is worn around the hem because of how many times you’ve worn it. Finally, you realize you have to buy a new shirt, because you can’t keep wearing the same one, even if you want to. So, you do. You throw away your old shirt and buy a new one, and somehow you end up loving that one even more. It fits better. The color’s brighter—not worn away by time."

Rin paused, leaning into his hand. "The old shirt didn’t die… It was just traded in for something even better. When I think about death, that’s what I envision. Like putting on a new shirt. And it makes it all easier."

Kit was struck speechless by her and her mind. "You’re extraordinary," he breathed. "I love your—your mind, your thoughts."

"I’m not," said Rin. "I’m weird and quiet and sometimes a little too cold." She laughed, just once, the sound colored with bitterness.

He couldn’t stand it. "You’re perfect, just the way you are." Her eyes were red, glistening slightly with unshed tears in the dim light. He wanted her laughs to be genuine. Tapping against the tip of her nose, he whispered, "I happen to love your shirt."

She bit her lip. "I’m only a Soul within a body, and this body isn’t my own. I’ll get a new one, one day." One of her small hands came to rest on his upper thigh, hesitant. "So will you."

His throat grew tight with emotion the longer he stared at her. God, he loved her. And he couldn’t seem to keep the weight of it out of his eyes.