The Flames that Engulfed Us

Chapter 37: Binary Stars (The Unscientific Explanation)

"Skylar, come with me."

"No." I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet and I turned to see cars barreling towards us. Men got out, and my breath caught as I saw C.C. and Paul mixed in with them.  Lincoln never looked back, so he didn't see them, but he heard me, felt my nervousness, and rubbed my arm. I felt less like we were going to fail spectacularly when he was rubbing my arm. I felt like we were going to fail mediocrely. I've found that in life, and in my death too, if mediocracy is the goal, maybe you should be focusing on running and getting yourself out of whatever crap pile you just fell in.

But in our case, I could hear each distinct step the men took to cut us off from escape in the back. To go forward, we'd have to face Mr. Devil. We could run to the side, but the reinforcements would probably have no problem catching us. It finally dawned on me exactly what was at stake.

No more Lincoln. There wouldn't be someone who understood me and my feelings like he did anymore. There wouldn't be someone to massage my shoulder when I was scared or someone to tell me he loved me when I thought everything was falling apart.

I latched onto his shirt, my knuckles turning white. The men started to entire our line of sight, forming a complete circle around us. I suddenly wanted to cry, but looking at the men, I knew I couldn't. Lincoln looked down at me, and I hesitantly made myself meet his eyes.

"I don't know what to say. I want to tell you that you don't need to be scared, but I don't know."

I forced myself to let go of his clothes, wrapping my arms around him. He let me for a few moments, and no one else said anything, something that while I didn't show it, I appreciated.

"Sky," Lincoln murmured, and I looked up at him. "I don't know what's going to happen, but if something does... if I never see you again, I want to..."

He turned so we were face to face, and I stood up straighter. He put his thumb under my chin, lifting it up. I looked in his eyes as he tipped his head gently to one side, bending down, letting his lips touch mine. It wasn't anything passionate, really, just a sort of confession to each other, a way of saying that we were each other's world.

In science, a long time ago, middle school, the teacher was talking about the world of sprawling stars. We spent a class talking about binary stars. Binary stars are two celestial bodies—stars as the name suggests—that are bound together as they orbit around the same point. I could give you a more scientific definition, but it probably wouldn't be right. Science was never my forte.

When I learned about the phenomenon, I was in the height of my romantic stupidity, longing for fictional characters that were too perfect and too, well, not real. The term binary stars and the way two people in the great romances orbit around their mutual love and dedication forever became linked in my head. The kiss became the point me and Lincoln orbited around. Me and Lincoln became the stars, forever bound together to travel parallel paths, always together in the great void of the universe.

Lincoln held me, his lips demonstrating that they loved me, and I could have been out of the atmosphere, floating in pinpricks of light, but it didn't feel like hell. Someone cleared their throat, declaring their presence to us, as though we'd take that into consideration and change our behavior for their comfort. Lincoln paused for a slight moment, so brief only I noticed, and then we were off again.

He eventually, after seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, some amount of time, he slowly pulled back and took my breath with him. His hand was under my chin again, but this time he just looked, seeming to memorize every detail of my face, as though he were a computer taking an impossibly long time to download the image. It occurred to me that I should probably do the same.