Page 35 of Misted
Mist
You were the vessel of my darkest desires until you became the most ominous of all.
Past,
Our pauses in the waiting room are getting smaller and smaller. Sometimes, we’re banned from here and forced to stay in our white cells for days.
It’s been a whole week since I’ve last seen Hawk, but he continues to brood with no care in the world.
The other Zeroes, or what remained of us are huddled against the wall. Ghost doesn’t remember me. He’s facing away with Shadow sitting with him. Sometimes, I don’t remember him either, so I can’t blame him.
I settle beside Hawk until only a small space remains and poke his side. He pays me no attention and continues fiddling with his shoelaces. I smile to myself. Some things never change.
Since that first day, he’s been the same steady, albeit silent rock. When I started forgetting about everything, he gave me a journal so I can write what I don’t want to forget. I only agreed on the condition that he writes in it, too.
He sometimes scribbles some notes, and I hold them like a treasure.
I’ve been here for so long, I forgot to count. I still forget who I am sometimes. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to escape, but the tiny hope never left me.
I’m thirteen now. I think. Hawk is fifteen or sixteen. He’s grown taller and broader. Ink has been tattooing him for the past months, but Hawk still refuses to let me see. Whenever I ask, he says with a grumble, It isn’t done yet.
Since then, I’ve been obsessed about checking out his tattoos. I can make out a few tendrils and black feathers peeking from the collar of his clothes, but that’s it.
I clutch the corner of his T-shirt and attempt to lift it. I’ve been so grabby around him lately, but I can’t help it. I also can’t help having dreams about kissing him.
Hawk shoves me back so hard, my back hits the wall.
“Fuck.” He checks me up and down, gaze concerned. “You all right? I told you not to touch me out of nowhere.”
I bite down a wince. “I’m strong, too, you know.”
He smiles. It’s small and barely reaches his deep blue eyes, but in The Pit, it’s the only thing that sustains that foolish hope about an escape.
“I just wanna see.” I reach for his T-shirt again. “Just a peek, okay?”
He twists away and I grab air.
“Fine!” I huff. “I’ll get my own tattoo.” Or not. Those needles scare the bejesus out of me.
“You will not.”
“Since you won’t let me see yours, I’ll tell Ink to tattoo me in a place you can’t see either.”
Hawk’s jaw clenches and he growls low in his throat. “You will not let Ink touch you.”
“Why not?”
“You will not and that’s it.”
He sure is in a talkative mood now.
“Then show me.”
“I will when it’s ready,” he grumbles in that dismissive tone.
I watch him closely, like really watch him. How his T-shirt sticks to his developing muscles. How his brown hair became a shade lighter and his skin tanner due to the training we’ve had in the sun. How the ocean in his eyes invites me for a dive. And then… that mouth.
It’s impossible to look away — and it’s not from lack of trying. I swallow the urge to glue myself to him until no space remains between us. But if Hawk sent me against the wall for touching him, he’ll punch me a planet away if I kiss him.