lockwood and co♡ locklyle

26・❥・death itself is undone

Lucy♡

4152 words

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you ♬

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you ♬♩

And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you ♩

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ: Wicked game. Chris Isaak

Chapter Twenty-Six. Death itself is undone.

"Breathe."

Lockwood's voice seemed to resonate from a place beyond my own reality. His far-off words rattled around my skull and pulsed beneath my skin despite him being within my reach. He was a crumpled form now, his face pressed lifelessly against the sheets and hidden beneath a curtain of hair that clung to his temple, limp with the metallic sheen of blood.

From the corner of my eye, the figure shifted again. It remained suspended in the air and if I stared at it for long enough the thing would move in and out of focus. There was a strange static that came with its presence. Everything was at once so still and yet so alive.

Time was a forgotten construct. All the time that had ever passed and all the time that would pass had come and gone. Its mere existence was theoretical, and I couldn't be sure that anything even existed outside my line of site. At some point, my entire concept of reality had dissipated without my realisation.

Lockwood's chest hadn't risen. Maybe he had just exhaled. Maybe he never had any breath, to begin with. It was an impossible notion for me to wrap my head around. All at once I knew nothing and I knew everything. I felt so out of touch with actuality. My sense of self and sense of the world around me was gone and yet here I was with the knowledge that the boy beside me was still very much alive.

I knew nothing but him.

Despite his waxy complexion and the heart in his chest that no longer pulsed, I knew he was alive.

If not here, then somewhere else.

"Please," he whispered desperately. Although it wasn't this Lockwood that said it. No, it couldn't have been. "Don't cry. I hate it when you cry."

I wasn't crying though, was I? My fingers brushed my cheek and I stared at my fingertips, slick with tears and blood. How was it that my conscience felt so disconnected from my body?

His voice danced around me, hoarse and painfully distant. I wanted to reach for him, but I didn't know where to reach to. He was all around me and nowhere at all. I stared hard at the Lockwood next to me, face down in his own blood. The sight of him in such a tragic state made me nauseous. I tipped my head back and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Breathe," he said again, but I didn't know how.

Another voice called to me, "Lucy," it beckoned. I lowered my face to the thing in front of me.

Hovering.

Waiting.

Watching.

"Lucy."

It was such a contorted shape like I was only half able to comprehend what was before me. The light seemed to shrink from it so that its features were shrouded from view. The dread pooling in my stomach, however, told me that I should be glad I couldn't see its features for something grotesque lay beneath the sinister shadows.