Century #23
Prompt: Drowning
Words: 309
It was getting more frequent. She'd look his way and suddenly he couldn't breathe.
It was like drowning, too-slow and agonizing, and she didn't even notice.
It was everywhere, water over his head and no surface in sight, no possible escape.
It was every time. She looked over and he was helpless, oxygen-starved and useless.
It was inescapable, he was adrift in an ocean and she didn't know, so what could he do? Nothing, that had to be the answer, nothing but try to fight against the exhaustion that sank into his limbs whenever she was near. He just had to keep treading water, keep his face above the surface, just at least until something came along to save him. He just had to endure that long, it couldn't be that long.
It was not getting any better. Worse, in fact; now all she had to do was be there and he felt the water in his lungs, shivered and hated her and wanted her like air.
It was like drowning, too-fast and agonizing, and she still had no clue.
It was all he could do, it was a life-raft he clung to and it was useless, smashed apart in the turbulence, and he gave up on other girls.
It was over. He'd sunk and he knew it and he watched her, felt the lack of air as keenly as the first time.
It was inevitable. He'd see her and shipwreck, speak and lose strength to tread, kiss and drown completely, and he had no recourse because he needed air, needed -
It was a confession. "I love you, stop doing this to me."
It was a response. "I've done nothing to you, you're the one who's gotten me-"
It was air, tangy and sharp and sweet, burning in his throat and he swore he'd never let it go.
Words: 309
It was getting more frequent. She'd look his way and suddenly he couldn't breathe.
It was like drowning, too-slow and agonizing, and she didn't even notice.
It was everywhere, water over his head and no surface in sight, no possible escape.
It was every time. She looked over and he was helpless, oxygen-starved and useless.
It was inescapable, he was adrift in an ocean and she didn't know, so what could he do? Nothing, that had to be the answer, nothing but try to fight against the exhaustion that sank into his limbs whenever she was near. He just had to keep treading water, keep his face above the surface, just at least until something came along to save him. He just had to endure that long, it couldn't be that long.
It was not getting any better. Worse, in fact; now all she had to do was be there and he felt the water in his lungs, shivered and hated her and wanted her like air.
It was like drowning, too-fast and agonizing, and she still had no clue.
It was all he could do, it was a life-raft he clung to and it was useless, smashed apart in the turbulence, and he gave up on other girls.
It was over. He'd sunk and he knew it and he watched her, felt the lack of air as keenly as the first time.
It was inevitable. He'd see her and shipwreck, speak and lose strength to tread, kiss and drown completely, and he had no recourse because he needed air, needed -
It was a confession. "I love you, stop doing this to me."
It was a response. "I've done nothing to you, you're the one who's gotten me-"
It was air, tangy and sharp and sweet, burning in his throat and he swore he'd never let it go.