Take Me

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Death and Paradise are intertwined to me."

- Lana Del Rey

♔ Chapter Twenty-Five ♔

"Not this again," Luke said. My eyes flashed open, and there he was, sitting at the other end of the bath-tub. I swear I could almost feel his legs near mine, but I knew I couldn't. When he spoke, he sounded disappointed, more than anything. But I didn't care. It would all end how it began. In the water.

"Oh, you finally fucking show up," I commented. "Luke, just fuck off."

"Get out of the bath, Tom." It was an order. I'd been ordered around a lot recently, and I was done with it. I was doing what I wanted, so I let myself go. I closed my eyes, just so that I couldn't see him.

"I'll see you soon, Luke," I told myself, almost as a reminder that he wasn't actually there, he wasn't real anymore.

"Stop it, Tom." I knew he reached out to touch me, but he couldn't, because he wasn't real. He only existed because I let him.

I chuckled sourly. "I love you, Luke. I really do."

"It isn't too late," he told me.

"What do you mean?"

"You're drowning right now. You're imagining all of this, Tom. Just stop, Tom, wake up. Just wake up, and you'll be okay. You will. I promise, Tom, things are gonna get better for you."

"Luke," I whispered, every word sounding strained and bubbly. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"You promised me you'd live enough for the both of us." The way he said it was so faint, so ghostly that I almost didn't hear it. His blue lips hardly even twitched as he spoke, and yet still, I heard him as clear as day. I twitched, trying to breathe. It was hard to find air, to grasp at it. I felt wet, everywhere. Choking.

For a few beautiful moments, I was free. Lying there, letting myself go, I was finally dead, finally free of everything that held me down. I could see Luke right in front of me, smiling sweetly, laughing. He grabbed my hand, leading down a path I thought I knew. And then I felt the sand pressing softly between my toes, watching as he guided me to the edge of the water. The great English Channel was blanketed out before us, still and silent, but as deadly as ever.

"It's okay," he told me. And for a moment, I did feel okay. He lead me deeper into the sea, so deep the cold water came up to my neck. The currents dragged us out farther and farther, but our hands were still tightly holding together. Then I felt his fingers unfolding from mine. I tried to call out, but all I could taste was bitter salt water. I lost him all over again, and then I lost myself. I was swept under in seconds, drowning, dying, until I was gone. But that gorgeous torment didn't last long.

Someone grabbed me by my arms, and lifted my limp, almost lifeless body out of the water. They chucked me down onto the floor hard, beating their hands down onto my chest. The next thing I knew, I felt their mouth cover mine. I felt air burst into my lungs. I felt water spurting out of my mouth, coughing, water spurting all over myself. And just like that, I was back.

"Tom!" they exasperated, sounding all kinds of terrified and happy and pity. Always pity.

"Am I dead?" I asked. I felt stupid. I knew I wasn't dead. Death would feel like peace, and all I felt was pain.

They sighed. I raised myself up on my arms, coughing and snorting. I rubbed at my eyes, and there he was before me, looking more real than ever. Luke.

"Luke?" I asked, taking out my hand, reaching it to touch his face. Just as my hand glazed over it, his touch felt so glimmering and so much more real than ever before. His fingers traced along mine, a small action that he'd waited years to do. "How are you here?"