Life After Love by Imogen Markwell-Tweed

Author:Imogen Markwell-Tweed [Markwell-Tweed, Imogen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Imogen Markwell-Tweed

When he wakes up, they’re in bed, and Adam is staring at him. For a minute, he’s forgotten. He wrinkles his nose. “Weirdo. Watching me sleep.”

Adam’s eyes widen, and then he closes the already small space between them, their bodies crushed together as Adam hugs Danny. As soon as he feels him, their chests pressed together, everything comes rushing back.

He clings just as hard, hands fisting in Adam’s hair, firm and strong and fully able to feel him. Danny doesn’t know if he’s crying or not, but he does know that this must be heaven.

“Are we dead?” His question is mumbled into the crook of Adam’s neck and comes out more as a feeling against skin than actual words, but Adam hears him anyway.

He laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of Danny’s head. He can feel it against his hair and his whole body thrums. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

Danny doesn’t understand. He was dying; he knows he was dying. But now he’s here, holding his boyfriend, whose pulse he can feel hammering against him. He’s alive.

They manage to disentangle their limbs, rolling far enough away that they can see each other, but Danny keeps his fingers firmly intertwined with Adam’s and one hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat and lungs fill.

Adam looks good. He doesn’t have the sallow look he’d been sporting for the last few weeks. His cheeks are bright and pink, and the dark circles that his eyes had been sinking into are gone now, too. He looks healthy and alive, and Danny’s chest is cracking in a whole new way.

Danny tells him how one minute, Adam was there, and the next, he was gone. He tells him about the book and the blood and the pain.

Adam scooches closer, his hips wiggling as he moves closer to Danny on the bed. The blankets are all tangled. It’s too warm. Danny feels sticky and gross, like he hasn’t showered in days, but he doesn’t care. Adam presses a kiss gently to his cheeks and rest their foreheads together.

“I… woke up, I guess. I was there, on the couch, but it was like a migraine on steroids, Danny. Like everything was too much, and it hurt to exist and then I… don’t know what happened. But then I was there, on the couch, and you were on the floor and bleeding and the candles — which, I told you, candles are dangerous — were melting all over the coffee table.”

Danny can’t help it. He surges forward and catches Adam in a kiss again. Adam laughs into it, the feeling so delightful that Danny doesn’t care that he’s interrupted the story. They kiss lazily for a few minutes, the feeling warm and soft. Danny thought this was gone. He thought he’d lost this.

They pull apart with hammering hearts and bruised lips. Danny can’t believe how much he loves this man. He must be staring dopily at him because Adam grins, wrinkles pulling at the skin around his eyes — he didn’t use to have that.

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