He is smoking a cigarette when she comes to him. The sky up above is cloudy. She thinks that it matches his eyes, not in color but in emptiness. She does not tell him. Instead, she takes his cigarette and takes a long drag. On the exhale, she says with her eyes closed, “Fuck.” “Fuck,” he agrees. They do not speak for a while. He stares off into the distance while she stares at the distance between their two hands. She estimates it is two inches. It doesn’t matter how close they are. She wants them to be closer. She can reach out and map his freckles like they are constellations, so why does it feel like they’re miles apart? She doesn’t really know how to say but fuck, you’re the goddamn most perfect think I’ve seen so she doesn’t. She opens her mouth and wants to swallow herself whole. He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. They are stormy looking, dark and impenetrable. She used to want to know every single thought that passed through his head. She’s long accepted that this isn’t going to be a reality. She feels the lightest whisper of a touch on the side of her face, and she opens her eyes to see him tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. His eyes are intently focused on hers, and she notices idly that they are almost black now. His hands make her burn but at least she’s felt warmth. Instantly she feels her heart start to race. Tries to breathe more slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Can’t get enough air. “Steak,” she says, and instantly winces at the high, breathless tone of her voice. Might as well just hold up a sign that says ‘I love my half-brother.’ “I don’t get it.” “Neither do I,” he breathes. Unconsciously, his eyes drop from her eyes to her lips, and she bites them nervously. “Fuck. Nitika, I—” He stops. Doesn’t know what else to say. “I just,” he says. “They wouldn’t understand.” She shakes her head. “I just—” he tries again. “You make me feel something, for the first time in my life,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I want to make this work, but.” He doesn’t go on. Doesn’t have to. Nitika knows full well what he’s about to say. The taboo subject, the elephant in the room. She doesn’t say anything else, but reaches out to him. Her touch is light and hesitant, as if waiting to be reprimanded. When it doesn’t come, she curls herself up against his chest, encased within his embrace. His arms feel more like home than anywhere ever has. She doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, but for right now, she feels whole.

She is asleep, hair messy and all over his pillow and he feels like a landmine that has just went off. He wants to say I love you but somehow the words become all tangled up under his tongue until each word turns to poison. He swallows it all down and his throat stings. She is a brilliant star and he is the whole night sky. He will consume her and purge her out when she is broken and lifeless. He will take everything from her, and she deserves more. She deserves better than him. He has never been religious, but staring down at the tiny little smile on her face, he is reminded by a quote from the Bible: Consider the work of God; for who can make straight what he hath made crooked? He knows it’s so, so wrong, but he takes one step back towards the door. She doesn’t stir. Her eyes remain closed. He is as mellifluous as the sea; at one moment loving, the next abusive, and she is drowning. She will gasp for air until she cannot inhale anymore, she will sink to the bottom and he will not look at her. He imagines her waking up alone, confused and reaching out for cold bed sheets, and feels a sort of pulling in his chest, like his heart is tearing itself into two right inside of him. He wants to stay with her so badly but they are not right for each other. He repeats it over and over again in his head, not sure who he’s trying to convince. He is too broken; he will cut her up on his jagged edges. Her hair is as light as the sun and when her smile swallows up her eyes. He is dark, dark, dark, and she is the sun. He wants to bury his head into her neck and whisper every stupid love poem that passes through his mind, he wants to kiss her until their heartbeats become one, he wants to stay with her for the rest of his live and be The One but instead he will only become a temporary lover. He looks at her, then looks away. Walks out and doesn’t look back.

The park is a lot more quiet at night. With no kids screaming on the playgrounds, it feels more empty. They are quiet, as usual. He wants to tell her that he loves her but somehow the words get all tangled up under his tongue until each word turns into poison and he swallows it all down. His throat stings. After a few more steps in silence, she stops, and looks at him. He mirrors her. She opens her mouth and then closes it, once, twice. “I, um,” she says. Her voice is high and strained. She’s nervous. “I like you,” she finally says. “A lot.” He stares at her. Her eyes are wide open and almost golden under the fluorescent streetlamp that bathes them in light. As neither of them say anything, the world around them is silent. Not even a cricket chirps, and that is when he realizes, really realizes that they are truly alone. Alone. No one to see them. Which means— Her eyes are riveted on him, not moving as he slowly leans in. And it feels like the most natural thing in the world when his hand reaches up and tips her chin upwards. Seconds later when his lips meet hers, her eyes flutter shut immediately. The kiss is soft at first, gentle and undemanding, but when she curls a hand into his messy hair and lets out a soft noise into their connected mouths, he can’t help but respond. The slow feeling slowly disappears as his mouth starts to move over hers in a completely inherent rhythm, something he feels like he’s done a thousand times before. Groaning, he leans into her, wanting this moment to go on forever. They finally separate, both panting slightly and out of breath. He stares at her with her mussed hair and cheeks tinged with red, swollen lips and all—and he can’t help but think that he’s really in for it now.