As my eyes flickered open to the new day, I noticed a warmth spreading through my body. Two strong arms wrapped around me, holding me close against them. Being in his arms felt like slipping into a set of fresh bed sheets after a warm shower. Like a warm cup of tea in my hands on a cold winter's day. Like a fresh breeze in spring while the heat of the sun warms my body.

Looking down though, I noticed tanned arms and hands, faintly red, as if healing from a burn.

All at once, the crushing feeling hit me.

Tears stung at my eyes again and the urge to lock myself in the bathroom grew. I tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he just pulled me tightly against him.

Biting my lip, I realised there was only one way to break free: by hurting him. Focussing my attention, I turned the shocks up. But he made no move away.

So I intensified them again.

Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I turned my zaps up as high as they could go.

But his hold stayed steady, the rise and fall of his chest against my back the same rhythm it had been since I woke up.

What is happening?

"Lukas?" I croaked, finding my voice.

"Mmm," he mumbled, pulling me closer even still to him.

"Lukas," I said more loudly.

"Yeah?" he said, evidently still half-asleep.

"Let me go."

There was a slight delay, but eventually he jolted, arms coming away from around me as he shuffled back to his side of the bed.

Hesitantly, I rolled over, looking at him. A blush spread across his face as he averted his gaze.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"How on earth did you sleep like that?" I asked, the question one of amusement, but my voice dead.

"What do you mean?"

Zaps fully on, I extended my hand across the distance, pressing it to his forearm.

Slowly, his eyes lifted up, meeting mine. They weren't scrunched up. He wasn't in pain. They were swirling with sorrow, and adoration.

"Do you not feel anything?" I whispered.

"What do you..." But then it hit him. "You haven't just turned them off?"

"No..."

And then he smiled, which hurt more. I removed my hand and lept out of bed, heading off to the bathroom.

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

We weren't able to get seats next to each other considering we had changed our flights last minute, but it was honestly a reprieve. Lukas's guilty gaze remained all morning as we packed our things, headed to the airport, and awaited our flight to board.

He knew this was too soon to be happy. Too soon to rejoice that what was lost between us had returned. Too soon for me to like seeing him elated. And as I watched his knee bounce up and down from the seat next to me as we awaited our seating sections to be called for boarding, I knew he was worrying what I would do next about it.

But I didn't have any room in me to think about what comes next.

How could I think about an after with Lukas when my boyfriend may still be laying a living room somewhere. When he might be getting buried. When I will never wake to his blue eyes staring at me, and long curly locks skimming over his cheekbones. Or the way he smiled when I walked into a room. I tried to rack through my brain for the last words he had said to me... but the image of his blood over my hands stopped me every time.

The plane ride was over too quickly. My usual fear from being up high completely gone, as I stared down at the ground below, a small part of me wishing that the plane would crash. That this would all be over.

As we flew over London, the London Eye still rotated slowly, the Shard stood tall in the air, and Tower Bridge remained where it always was over the Thames. Yet despite that the city was celebrating one of its last sunny days before winter came in full force, the land was covered in a veil of grey for me.

Would the lights from the buildings ever glow vibrantly in the night sky again?

Would the sight of a doubledecker ever bring a smile to my face?

Would a red phone booth or a beefeater on duty spark my love for this land?

Or would London forever be tainted in memories of him? Memories we could no longer make. Memories that shouldn't exist because I never should have met him.

The cab came to a stop in front of the house. We grabbed our luggage, walked through the iron gate, and up the front steps. Without him.

Lukas opened the door, stepping aside while I walked through. Without him.

We stepped into the foyer, Erica and Jayce running in, surprise on their faces. Noticing we were without him.

"You weren't due back for another day!" Erica exclaimed.

But as they watched Lukas close the door behind him, eyes flickering between the two of us, apprehension etched into their face.

"Where's Ben?" Jayce finally asked, though his voice hinted he knew the answer.

I looked down at the floor, hand tightening on the handle of my suitcase, eyes stinging again. "I'm sorry," I whispered. And then I let go of my luggage and ran up the stairs, down the hallway, and into our old room, closing and locking the door behind me.

Alone at last, I slid my back down against the door until I had collapsed on the floor, letting out the sob that had been bubbling up in me since we left the hotel room. As I let my body shake from the cries, eventually I opened my eyes and looked around.

The room was just as we left it. Bed unmade. His book on the nightstand, half-read.

Laptop closed on his desk.

Hamper full of washing still to be done.

And the room smelled of fresh laundry, cedar, and musk. How long would those last remnants last?

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

September 2018

The first few days I just sat in bed, staring at the walls, ceilings, sheets, anything around the room, watching as the light came in and left. Sleeping, crying, breathing, living.

The following days I would sometimes leave the room for things other than a shower or toilet, venturing down to make some food that I would immediately bring back to our room... my room... his room.

As the days turned into weeks, a myriad of thoughts flickered through my head, some good, some bad.

Did I think about death? Every day. My death? At first a lot, then it subsided. Lukas was right. Ben would not have wanted me to die with him. As much as we were supposed to spend forever together, Ben would never have wanted me to just give up.

Staring at the room, I began to detest the vampiresque aesthetic. I remembered him promising me we could redecorate if I moved in at the beginning of the year. But like many promises, it got shoved into a drawer, never looked at again, alongside all other adventures, ideas, and hopes we had collected.

Our anniversary was nearing, and I dreaded the day. Stephen had sent Ben's phone and wallet back in the mail. When I finally found the strength to look through it, I plugged his phone in and browsed through our old pictures, his text messages, conversations left unread and unopened.

One day I decided to browse through his internet history, venturing into the last thoughts and interests on Ben's mind. He had been looking up ideas for proposals. Best restaurants in London. Getaways.

That was when I threw his phone across the room, screen shattering.

Lukas was inside in moments as I buried my head in my knees from the bed. He picked up the pieces of the phone then quietly snuck out.

A week later, I awoke to the phone on the bedside table, screen fixed.

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

As the first week of September ended, I realised enough was enough. I had ditched my studies for the term and I knew Ben would be upset with me for letting my life waste away like this.

So the first thing I did when the sun rose that Saturday morning was strip the bed of its sheets.

Loading the hamper, I carried them down the stairs, alongside my clothes, and put them in the washing.

Day by day, I did another small task on my long mental list of things that needed to be done. 

The second day I unpacked his suitcase, putting all the clothes back in the cupboard.

On the third, I picked one shirt to keep. The rest I loaded into rubbish bags and began taking them down to the foyer, with plans to donate them.

Hearing the commotion, Lukas walked out on my second trip down the stairs, walked over, and grabbed the bag from my hands. We had a brief exchange about what I was doing, and he decided he would take the task of bringing them to a charity himself.

He was careful to not smile at me since that morning back in Cologne.

Our invitation constantly pulling at our hearts, forcing our gazes to meet. But the last bond still tugged at me inside, casting a cloud over my mind.

As the days went on and I passed Lukas in the hallway, often not saying a word, I wondered if he had been right. If he had not wiped my memory, would everyone have been better off?

In the end, my disloyal heart still yearned for Lukas in my relationship with Ben. In the end, I was still ready to leave Ben for my best friend, until Christina got involved.

But how come I was now aware of the bond again?

What had Christina done to remove my feelings?

Why had they returned with Ben gone?

Why was the invitation now active?

I had many questions that remained unanswered, because whenever I thought them, I would feel the crushing guilt overcome me. I was already thinking of another guy when Ben couldn't even see the world anymore. When Ben's life had been cut too short, his final days a mess because his girlfriend couldn't be what he needed.

As I cleared the final remnants of him from the room, leaving only the black walls, furniture, and my belongings, I came across the jewelry box I had hidden at the bottom of his suitcase.

Tears in my eyes yet again, I pulled out the ring, slipped it on my finger, and fell asleep wearing it.

The next day, I took it off, put it back in the box, and tucked it into the bottom of my suitcase, before bringing Ben's down to the foyer.

That day, when I made my trip back down, I didn't turn around and go back up. Instead, I walked down another flight of stairs into the media room, taking a seat next to Jade and Loren who were curled up on the couch.

Their watchful gazes studied me as I sat down, eyes fixated on the TV. I didn't know what they were watching, but whatever it was was no longer as interesting to them as my presence. But eventually they realised I wanted an escape from my reality.

They exited their show⁠—some trashy romance⁠—and put on Game of Thrones. It was the perfect distraction. Blood, violence, and gore. Ben had always insisted I watched it. But I never did, claiming I wasn't into medieval things.

Erica forwarded into the room, eyes wide, a little breathless. She looked at me, then at Jade and Loren who shrugged, then she slowly walked in, sitting down to my right.

Jayce came in not long later, taking a seat on the floor in front of Erica.

Then Ivan and Drake joined us.

Then Lukas entered, eyes glancing at the free spot next to me then around for somewhere else.

I looked at the vacant spot then back to his eyes, giving him a small nod.

He came over, sat down by my side, and held my hand in his. Warm, safe, homely.

And the guilt washed over me again.

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

Seven and a half hours of the first season later, one by one they filed out of the room, back to their separate lives, leaving just Lukas and I alone on the couch, starting the second season on our own. His hand had remained in mine for most of the day except when he was helping Erica fetch food and drinks throughout the marathon.

But then at the end of the second episode, he released his hold and, ever so slowly, draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest. The feeling of him around me was too familiar.

I could hear the steady thrum of his heart under my ear, accelerating faster than it should. And then he pressed his lips against my hair.

I didn't make any movements to stop him at first, figuring for sure this was just a friendly gesture.

But when that episode ended and I sat upright, mumbling that I would go to bed, he grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop as I tried to get up.

I looked at his hold on me, then into his eyes.

Worry was the main emotion I saw, followed by adoration. His eyes eventually trailed away from mine, down to my lips.

My stomach squirmed, heartbeat sped up, and I looked away.

I hated that I wanted him to kiss me. I hated that feeling even more because I wanted to feel his emotions. I wanted to feel a bond between us.

And then I hated myself for wanting it all. Because these feelings cost someone their life.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to⁠—"

But I got to my feet and walked out of the room, back up the stairs, and closed the door to the bedroom behind me, clicking the lock.

My eyes searched around the barren area, only signs of life shown from the furniture and my few belongings scattered around.

Walking to my bag, I fished out my laptop, opened the browser, and did what I knew had to be done.