IVA
We lay there on the rug, our breaths still uneven, heartbeats pressing against silence before our eyes locked, desperately clinging to a moment we already sensed slipping away.
The quiet was thick as Lev pulled me tight, and I melted into him. His hand brushed a trembling strand of hair from my face, fingers slow as if seeking comfort, and our lips met again.
“I love you,” he whispered as we pulled back, and I told him I loved him too, the words settling like a sigh in my chest now that I had surrendered once more to the terrifying truth.
We kissed again, losing ourselves in the moment before my eyes finally left, noticing a painting on the wall I’d nearly forgotten--one I made for him when I was twelve.
It was just my handprint in messy acrylics, a childish attempt at art our
