ecstasy | corpse husband

chapter 14.

washington — north of seattle
day four

a day and a half has passed.

It's the afternoon, and the sky is the clearest it's been in a long time. perhaps it's a sign for good, or perhaps it's the calm before the storm.

there have been more and more cars on the road as of yesterday, people fleeing the city in greater amounts. they must look crazy being the only ones heading back in the direction of it.

they enjoyed the quiet while it was there. that feeling of being the only ones in the world—they cherished it for the small time they had it. when it was just them, the mini van, and the trees.

but now it was gone.

they pass a car wreck as they're heading onto an interstate, still a ways off from the city but the skyline is visible in the distance. one of the engines is on fire, billowing smoke into the air and tainting it with ashes. there aren't any survivors in sight, and they don't stop to check.

the only thing keeping elowen's spirits up is the way elijah has gotten more and more talkative the more time they spend together. he distracts her in a way that grounds her, keeps her from sinking too far into the depths of her paranoia. and corpse...

corpse makes her feel like if a skyscraper were to crumble above them, he'd be stupid enough—or brave enough, she hasn't figured that out yet—to shield her body with his and not think twice about it. although, he would scold her afterward for being in the way in the first place.

she may be naive in perceiving him this way—as a hero of sorts—and the prospect of it being accurate terrifies her.

with all the time and quiet they've had in the midst of their bonding for elowen to simply think, she starts picking apart every aspect of their interactions. she's picked up on the way her heart rate increases tenfold every time he touches her accidentally, or non-accidentally, and how heat floods to her face whenever he gives her that languid, beyond irritating smirk of his.

and she's started thinking about him far more than she should be. anytime he isn't around, she's worrying over him or replaying a conversation of theirs in her head without her own permission. even when he's sitting right next to her, silent, she's torturing herself with thinking about his voice, which has quickly become one of her favorite things about him.

she's noticing that as insufferably annoying as he can be more times than not, she is unfairly drawn to him and fascinated by him and even infatuated with his dark sense of humor.

and there's a pain underneath his blank exterior, which he hides so well, but she wants nothing more than to delve into the depths of it and explore him, learn him, know him. the need for this is intense and unprecedented and scary.

I shouldn't feel this way.

she's known him not even a week yet. in a way, they can still be considered acquaintances. but hadn't they gone through more than some friends go through in a lifetime?

in elowen's opinion, time is just a number and not any indicator of feelings.

It doesn't change the fact that she technically still has a boyfriend. a tsunami of guilt threatens to submerge her, and she frantically clears her mind to the best of her ability. she tells herself it's only the trauma, the stress that has her mind overworked. it's normal for her to cling to whatever makes her feel the most secure in her uneasy state of mind.

right now, that's corpse.

she knows mason might very well be dead. she knows he might want nothing to do with her, and maybe she should want nothing to do with him. but she was in love with him; no, is in love with him. months of those kinds of feelings for someone don't go away in the matter of a few days. she can't help the remorse she feels every time she overthinks a lingering touch from corpse or too-long eye contact.