She smelt of honey, but he tasted of it. He smelt of lemon, but she tasted of it. It was odd to everyone other than them, but they wouldn't have it any other way.
She has always hated seeing him get injured, no matter how minuscule or gigantic it was. Even if he healed straight after, every injury he gained made sure to worry her. Whether he was undead or not.
Lying, it felt like second nature to both of us now. It wasn't like we wanted to, we just had to. At least if we wanted to survive the day, yet alone the night.
His breath felt comforting on my neck, his slow and steady breaths are what kept me grounded. That soft puff of air, as innocent as it was, still made a shiver run through me.
She appeared to me in my dreams, each time different. Sometimes, it would just be silence between us, other times she was a shoulder to cry on, and sometimes there just to hold me as a lover.
Sometimes, you regretted ever agreeing to marry the guy, but each time he would show you why you said in the first place, without even knowing he was doing anything. Well you did know that he ruled the mafia, before it had gotten too serious.
She had made me believe that evrything was real, every second shared, every lingering kiss, every memory made. It had all been a lie, a dream of sorts, or a game in her case.
He had always made sure the door was closed, after he came home, and before he left, mother would be mad if he hadn't. But then one day, when he returned home, the door had been open, she must have finally put fathers remains out with the trash.
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