original post here. dated 2014-01-05.
[A/N: Decided to do this “cross-post” as a recording. So it’s not technically just a cross-post, since there is now the added layer of audio.]
~
She used to think he was the dumbest, most overly trusting person she knew. It turns out that her idea of deep secret and his were just vastly different. She used to get so angry at him for telling other people the secrets she’d whisper to him, curled up together under the blankets. It never stopped her from sharing them with him, because she shared everything with him, but it was still annoying.
So she doesn’t know how to feel now. That she’s the first person he’s ever told the truth to is touching, it’s a warm feeling and an affirmation of her importance to him. That he’s been hiding this from her since the very beginning and only told her now, so late in their lives, hurts. It means that he didn’t really trust her before.
–
They find each other again, the earliest yet, and don’t notice the changes because their sight is blurred by tears of joy. He holds her close, arms wrapped around her waist, and she cradles his face in her hands. They press clumsy, eager kisses to each other’s faces, breathing each other in, sobs and laughter mingling, noses bumping. It’s messy and noisy and out of the blue and so happy it’s perfect.
He doesn’t have his beard anymore, or doesn’t have it yet, the skin under her hands smooth and soft. His hair is shorter, not the tangled, matted mess she knew. She’s heavier, or maybe he’s weaker, but the way he can’t feel her bones and the way she doesn’t seem like she’ll break with the slightest touch speaks otherwise.
It worked. It worked. Humanity is saved and those who remained had their lives torn apart, or erased, or restarted depending on who you asked. Five years in the future, they had met for the first time, fought over dwindling resources, promised the rest of their arguably short lives to each other. Then the Kronos project succeeded, and the small percentage of the population who had still been alive had woken up the next day to find that the end of the world hadn’t happened.
They knew each other as much as two people could; but they had never bothered to give each other their last names–what was the point when civilization was dead. Brief recollections of the past that was now the present, that was all they had to work with. And they finally found each other.
–
They have to prove themselves. Climb or play, those are the only options. Climb up a never ending cliff face until your arms feel like they’re falling off then keep climbing; or fall off yourself. The other choice is to play. To play a game against Death and all his friends. One game, one chance to win.
It’s not just one of them that has to do this–it’s both of them. They don’t have to speak or even look at each other to know what the other is feeling, just the tightening of their interlocked hands until they’re forced to separate.
She’s first which means the patch of earth he’s standing on shoots skywards so quickly that his shout of surprise is lost to her ears. On her other side a round table large enough for five sprouts from the ground, four of the seats already occupied. They look hungry; the cards sickeningly laid out. Climb or play.
She looks up, the pillar is too tall for her to see the top, to see him, but she knows he’s trying to see her too. He must be. He’ll have the same decision to face, after her. She chooses.
JackSGreyson Says 