[For Layla]

[howmanylives]

They say near-death experiences bring about clarity. I've spent the past year thinking that was a bunch a hokum... I mean, I almost died by my own hand last year, and the only epiphany I had was that drowning was a really lousy way to go. Nothing about my purpose in life, nothing about what I'm meant to do or what decisions I'm supposed to make.

Comments

[butterflyfactor]

Layla had been sitting cross-legged on her bed with an array of items before her, none of which she really had any idea what to do with. The cylinder had been problematic enough, keeping it away from Richards, as it was not a chew toy or a fetching stick. Doom technology that she knew was custom made for her, that had washed up on the beach next to her when she'd dragged herself out of the ocean post-yacht party, was an entirely new level of puzzling. It had given her something to stare at, at least, for the hours she found she couldn't spend walking around looking for signs of Jamie or Moira. Mostly the hours between nightfall and sunrise, the ones where she couldn't sleep. Staring uselessly at a puzzle to solve was better than staring hopelessly into space. She supposed

[howmanylives]

She looked perfect, even in all her imperfection. Jamie's sense of romance was typically hidden even from himself, but in looking at her just then, he couldn't help but catalog her every idiosyncrasy and commit it to memory -- the way she stood, how one sock was lower than the other, the thin sliver of exposed skin between her shirt and underwear, the fall of her hair over her shoulder. Last year he'd had nothing left to lose, but that was, simply put, just no longer the case.

Under any other circumstance, he might've responded with a quip, an all-too-casual here I am, or something of that ilk. But he'd just had a hellish few days, and he was in no mood for their usual banter, their usual games. Instead he strode towards her with heavy steps, leaving a trail of mud and water in his wake as he closed the distance between them. His hands immediately sought out her hips, though only one stayed there, the other sliding up her back, underneath the thin material of her tank top. His fingers pressed into her skin, possessively. She was warm

[butterflyfactor]

Her breath was caught before he kissed her, from the physical shock of his touch which contrasted so sharply with the flush that was already spreading through her, and then the rush of the kiss was over and he'd told her he loved her.

It made it difficult to catch it back again. Air hitched uselessly in her lungs, and for a truly absurd moment she thought she was going to get the hiccups, which would be a guaranteed mood-killer. Then she gripped the front of his shirt, wrapping her fingers in it tight, and threw her other arm around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder to muffle a harsh, gasping sob.

Cold and wet be damned. Underneath the cold and wet is breath and a heartbeat and Jamie, his bones and muscles and admittedly clammy skin, all the parts that make him up that I wasn't sure I would ever see or touch again on this god damned island. Because I didn't know. It's been days of not knowing. I've only cried a few times in my life, because after a certain point your threshold for 'what the fuck' gets pretty high,

[howmanylives]

It's not quite the reaction I was hoping for, but given the stress surrounding this situation, I can't say I blame her. I mean, think about it... I come in here, looking like a drowned rat after days spent incommunicado -- no way to let her know I was even alive, let alone still on this island -- and proclaiming my love like just about every leading man ever in a cheap rom-com without so much as a hello. What else was I to expect?"Shh," he murmured, lifting his hand from her hip to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through the loose weave of her braid. With one halting step, he pressed his body closer to help support some of her weight, even as Richards insinuated himself between their legs, undoubtedly getting soaked in the process. Jamie paid him no mind, though, his thoughts unusually focused on one thing and one thing alone: Layla Miller. His heart hammered in his chest as held her, the anticipation of her answer almost too much as the full enormity of what he'd just admitted weighed down on him. They were in