When Love Must Bleed PV AngelFyre McCubbin

An Asterisk Shall Mark the Spot @Simon Kincaid

30 June 2025 - ...*

Rides on the Hogwarts Express, when they were heading away from Hogwarts, always brought AngelFyre's spirits down. No. That was not entirely true. She could not get on the train fast enough the Christmas break of her first year. If she had had her way then, she never would have come back. Luckily for her... and for Simon... her family convinced her to give magic and the school one more try. Had she insisted on wishing to never return, she and Simon would not have met.

The uncomfortable question that tumbled in her thoughts too often these past two months is whether it would it have been better if they had not? It was a question she asked God frequently as of late. She was not angry with Him, but she was confused about why there was a necessity for any of this. Okay. That was not entirely true either. She was angry at Him and struggled to keep her faith in the belief that there was a purpose and a plan for all of it. His plan.

But again, it was not as if He communicated clearly and directly with her or with Simon as He so often did with Moses as he led His people through the desert for 40 years. At least there was the surety of what His instructions were then, even if perhaps Moses was not completely read in on the plan or aware of how it was to be fully implemented. When her once-upon-a-time-architect-wannabe-of-a-boyfriend would see her faith foundation begin to wobble, he was always quick to shore her up. They had always prayed together, but Simon had really stepped up as her faith leader as of late. They prayed. They studied. They sought God out and then each other for answers and guidance and support. He would quote C. S. Lewis to her often, whom he knew to be one of her favorite spiritual authors. Hearing Simon say to her "Courage, dear heart," had always been enough, so far, to set her to rights.

As she sat as close as she could be to him in their private car, without actually being in his lap, she let her gaze linger on the passing of the Scottish highlands outside the the window. She was wishing for time to now go as slowly as it so frustratingly did when she had been away from him for any length of time and was desperate to be with him once again. Her arm was linked through his and she was completely unaware of how tight a grip she had on his arm.

It could be nowhere near as tight as the grip he had on her heart.

She allowed her gaze to turn to a lazy focus so that she could now watch him in the window glass instead of the passing countryside. He was studying the plan. She smiled in spite of herself, charmed in the moment that some things would just never change. The tapping of the pen from her Kinetic Kincaid was his way to cement the ideas on parchment to his marvelous brain.

The smile evaporated quickly enough though, when she remembered that he was going over "the plan". She could feel the tight constriction begin to narrow the passageway in her throat, indicating that tears were sure to follow, but AngelFyre had promised herself she would not subject either of them to that today. He knew her heart. He knew she could... and would... cry an ocean's worth of tears in the next days and months if they were lucky, and for the rest of forever if they were not.

The plan.

Two words she had come to loathe, even as so much of their future safety and (un)happiness depended upon it. It had been worked over and refined for the past two months, but there was no guarantee it would be a success. She was the one generally with a plan, and this time had been no exception. She had had years to consider the evil that Adrian Hawthorne might be capable of while Simon was off trying to build a relationship with his "father", and while she did not see certain pathways from which it would come, she saw this one threat clearly enough. So had Simon, as it turned out, but neither took pride nor pleasure in that fact as they both contributed to landing themselves in this position. The modicum of comfort that she took from it, however, was that Simon saw the wisdom in it, distasteful as it was.

The plan.

Maybe their meeting was part of His plan so that she could come up with this plan. She had been on the gerbil wheel chasing down the answer to that for too long. She did not have the perspective on it any longer. And it no longer mattered. The trigger had been pulled when Simon had sent his letter to Adrian a couple of weeks ago.

Tonight was the appointed time. Even later tonight there would be an asterisk placed by today's date in her journal, marking 1,186 days of being not just a girlfriend, but of being Simon's girlfriend; 3 years and two months and 29 days of traveling from being a Miss to one day his Mrs.; 169 weeks and 3 days of living and breathing each day in knowing her greatest purpose in life was to be by his side, building their lives together and being the she wolf to his peace dove.

And tonight, if they were lucky, it would all end.

------- ----------- -------

OOC Note: Itallicized words are words spoken from Simon to AngelFyre through the binding mark - only she can hear them, internally.

Promises, Old and New @Simon Kincaid
Speaking || Binding Mark

30 June 2025 - ...*

We’ll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don't need
Anything
Or anyone

Respite, in the form of sleep, came upon them both in the train car as it sped towards London and towards what, most assuredly, felt like their doom. Simon fell asleep first, with AngelFyre's head resting on his chest. In the time before their binding mark, her clue to his being asleep would have been his already slow-beating heart dwindling down to an impossibly slow cadence. It was a fascination to her that as much as her boyfriend was almost always in motion in one form or another while awake, he was the very opposite when asleep. She had never seen anything like it. There were no little jerks or twitches that many people had when in the act of falling asleep. There were no little snorts, moans, or head bobs. There was just silence and stillness. She had promised herself that one day or evening she would watch him from beginning to end, just to see if he actually experienced rapid eye movement during his dreams.

Today would not be that day, however.

For now, her first real clue that Simon was asleep was the sort of distant, white noise that she could hear in her own head. They kept the binding mark activated at all times, and while they could not read each other’s minds, the channels to speak to one another just seemed more clear when they were both awake. It took some getting used to the first time he drifted off to sleep after it had been branded on his chest because she did not know what exactly had happened. She mistakenly thought he must have turned it off when the white noise first visited its static-like tap dance upon her brain, but she had not heard him utter the activation/deactivation word, so she spoke it just in case. As soon as she said it, she knew immediately he had not turned it off. The white noise vanished completely and was replaced with a sort of nothingness. Not nothingness really... just AngelFyre alone in her own head, which she had not been for a few days. As soon as she realized he was completely gone from her, she quickly spoke “Beshert” and was greeted not with white noise, but with a drowsy sounding boyfriend on the other end, wondering what had happened and if she was okay.

The memory made her smile. Even in the hardest of times, like now, she could… and did… take comfort in having at least a million such Simon memories to draw from that would produce the same result; a smile.

As she lay still in his arms, AngelFyre was going over her own part to play. She was always a little mopey whenever they had to part at King's Cross station for school breaks, so the families would see nothing odd in that, but it was the weight of knowing there would be a breakup coming that most concerned her. She was beyond mopey at this moment in time. She was, in a word, devastated. Sadness would be expected from her, but any expression of what she was actually feeling now, in anticipation of what was to come, would... not could… would… jeopardize the whole plan and put Simon, herself, and probably both of their families at risk.

The burden of most of this little charade would rest on Simon’s shoulders later in the evening, but in reality, it was no “little charade”. They really were breaking up. They were clear with each other about that. Their families and friends had to believe it, and it had to be made clear to everyone that it was not just for the summer. Even Simon and AngelFyre did not see the longed-for end date to their “ending” at this point in time. They were acting out of necessity, hubris, naïveté, love, and the solid, yet possibly dangerously misguided belief in themselves that together, they could do anything. There would be no contact, of any sort, between them, except through the binding mark. There would be witnesses to their heartbreak, of course, but they would really only be playing to an audience of one -- Adrian Hawthorne. He would be both their target audience tonight and the only acting critic whose opinion would matter this evening. Having met him just one time, AngelFyre knew they had to be perfect; 99% would mean utter failure.

The struggle of thinking about it and hurting over it was emotionally and physically exhausting. AngelFyre began to feel the heaviness of her own eyelids soon enough and snuggled even deeper into Simon’s embrace, focusing her thoughts not on the near future, but rather on the nearness of the boy she could still call her boyfriend… at least for the next few hours.

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Her thoughts turned hazy as she finally gave in gratefully to the gentle rocking of their train car from side to side, cradling them both… as they cradled one another… into a calmness that made sleep possible. As her head rose and fell with each rise and fall of Simon’s chest, so too did her body subtly lean into his with each curve of the track, while just as seamlessly it returned with his body back to their center. Anyone looking in would have seen a glimpse of synchronicity, as if the railcar was breathing with them or they with it. With no conversation, the sounds in the cabin were hypnotic. She fell rather quickly into her slumber as the metallic hum of the wheels on the rails wrapped her in a strangely comforting lullaby of sorts, one that was punctuated by the soft, droning rapidity of the clack-clack, clack-clack as they passed over the joints in the tracks. None of it was noise. It was all just the texture and the soundtrack of movement and momentum to a place she…they… did not wish to go.

Simon awoke before she did, drawing her back to reality with three squeezes of her hand. She had been dreaming of the day at the Quidditch Training Pitch when he first told her he loved her. It was also the day she confessed to him that she suspected she was a Seer and that she had had a vision that Simon would be in great peril from his father. It was the first and last time she had begged him to stay away from the vampire, but his need to know more of himself through his father was too great. She had thought of that day so often, but there was not a single thing she could ever have said or done that would have changed his mind on that score. She knew it, but being right was still cold comfort, which was to say it was no comfort at all because look where they were and what they were about to do. She had been prepared to lose him that day if it would have meant keeping him safe, and she was still prepared to do the same today, but it was harder to do with three years of loving him etched on her heart.

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

They hung back, not especially eager to disembark and face what was coming, but Simon was a reassuring presence and pillar of strength for her in those moments. A final kiss to the forehead was delivered and followed by looks that said ’ I love you’, even if the words were never spoken, aloud or silently through the binding mark.

As they stepped off the train and onto the platform, both of their families eagerly made their way towards them, engulfing them as a unit. Simon had refused to release her hand, so instead of greeting their families separately and individually as was their usual custom, it was truly a group welcome. She caught a bewildered glance from her mother to her father over the young couple’s inseparability, but her father just winked and shrugged his shoulders. And then he squeezed AngelFyre tighter and kissed the top of her head a few times before patting Simon on the shoulder a number of times.

AngelFyre’s smile came easily upon seeing all of them. She, like Simon, loved her family, and his as well. Also like him, she missed them terribly when away. She may have even beamed more than she would have thought possible when Aunt Maggie called her "Sunshine". That would not be a moniker that would apply by evening’s end as she had it on good authority that the weather would definitely be changing. Still, it was nice to hear in that moment.

Simon continued to hold onto her on their way to dinner and throughout it. When their hands were needed to eat, their ankles were hooked together. That was pretty much standard anytime they ate. Such dedication garnered some remarks from his Uncle Mark, but they both just smiled about it. It was her father who told Mark that there was a level of inseparability about them from the beginning, which was true, and something AngelFyre was quite proud of as a matter of fact. Her father even joked that it would not surprise him if they returned home in the next year or so and either began to look alike or began to dress similarly. That made her laugh out loud and prompted a response.

“Never gonna happen. Simon, pulchritudinous Puff that he is, could never pull off the dresses or skirts, I am afraid.” She then lifted her left hand to her cheek to shield his view of her mouth as her right hand went up, with index finger pointing towards him. She mouthed the words ‘BOW LEGGED’ quite deliberately so her meaning would not be missed, and then she gave a very exaggerated wink before giggling as he started to protest, for the millionth time, how “sex-… uhm… sensational” his legs actually are. She chuckled even more when he had to stop just short of referring to his legs as “sexy” in front of her parents and his Aunt Maggie. The “s” word was not something Iain McCubbin was prepared for his daughter to know existed, so it was best, for now, to tread along with his ostrich-with-its-head-in-the-sand approach.

The conversation, light-hearted as it was, played beautifully into laying part of the foundation for what would later be the reason for their breakup. Still, moments later, the adults would carry on their conversations and Simon and AngelFyre would silently sit, eating their sadness and reassuring one another as best they could and as cheerfully as they could.

Finally it was time to leave, and Simon, as planned, suggested a walk over to the West Garden. It was no surprise that no one objected as everyone knew the two were sad and would be saying their goodbye to one another for the summer. At least, that is what they all thought was about to happen. The adults lingered with one another and Simon started them off in the direction of a beautiful fountain. She knew Adrian was lurking somewhere in the shadows, his steely gaze focused on both of them, but on Simon in particular. For all she knew, he had probably even been watching them in the restaurant. It would not have been unlike him to do so given his past history of stalking Simon. And if he had been watching, he would have seen a happy, loving, young couple surrounded by the people they loved and the people who loved them.

Knowing of Adrian’s presence, she had thought, was going to be a problem for her, but when the moment was upon them, aside from those fleeting thoughts of Adrian at the beginning, all thoughts were entirely focused on Simon. “We can do this,” he said to her silently. “For us, love, for the assurance of us.” Those words were her life raft in a raging sea. She heard everything he said to her in all the minutes that followed, but it was his first words she would go back to so often over the summer. Not wishing him to carry the burden alone, she stepped it up a bit as they approached and began to play to their targeted audience of one. She had to be sad, but not look as if she knew the breakup was coming.

“Oh, the fountain is so lovely, especially with all of the lights,” and she looked over at him for a few moments before resting her head on his shoulder as he led her in that direction. “It is the perfect romantic setting for our last night together for eight weeks. You have no idea how much I am going to miss you this summer, love.” As they drew nearer to the fountain, she responded to him properly, in the way only he would be able to hear her. ‘Your strength gives me strength. I know we can do this. We will do this.! You and I can do anything, Simon.’ And then he sat down on the fountain’s edge and guided her to sit next to him. As he turned to look deeply into her eyes, she parroted back to him, ‘For the assurance of us.’

He nodded almost imperceptibly before bringing his lips to hers. All communication stopped for the next few minutes between them. Well, all communication except that of the physical type. They always communicated perfectly in this regard, and strained though it was given their current circumstances and very public venue, AngelFyre could not help but notice that beneath the surface of this “act” was so much of their truth. This was an area of pure delight in many instances, but it was also an area of much too much pure delight in increasingly numerous others. It was becoming a topic of consideration and concern between them, but nothing to the point that either felt they were in danger of overstepping. At least not yet, and that is what made it perfect as the reason for the breakup.

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's burstin' into life

When Simon gripped her waist and pulled her onto his lap, she was not thinking about her parents watching this or about anyone else but Simon. She had prayed this would not be their last night together, but if it were to be, she had promised herself to savor every last second that she could have with him, while they still belonged to each other. Their reactions were real and probably scandalized her father a bit, who now had no choice but to pull his head out of the sand and recognize that perhaps his teenage daughter actually did have at least an inkling about that problematic “s” word’s existence.

Let's waste time
Chasin' cars
Around our heads
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

His breath barely grazed along her neck, forging the pathway for the kisses to follow, yet it felt like cool silk drawn slowly across her skin, raising the tiniest ripple of goosebumps in its wake. It felt excruciating and amazing at the same time, and AngelFyre leaned into all of it without thinking any longer. She was simply chasing the feelings in the moment, and she believed Simon was too when he told her she made him feel things he had never felt before, and he was not bashful about who might hear it. He had no sooner finished his sentence than he pulled back and held her at bay, gazing at her with unusually dulled, doe brown eyes and dilated pupils. His signature smile was dimmed and so was the sparkle from within that normally migrated to his expressive eyes.

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

Her shock and surprise were immediate at the interruption, and then it quickly occurred to her that Simon had not been as free to immerse himself in the pleasures of the moment as she had allowed herself to be. Before she even had a chance to say or do anything, his grip was back on her waist and he was guiding her up and off of his lap, after which he then stood. She felt entirely discombobulated. It was the metaphorical equivalent of a sudden cold shower being turned on, and they both knew exactly what that felt like.

“Wait.”

“We need to stop.”

“We can’t keep doing this,” followed up quickly in her head with, "We're going to forever continue this.’ She could hear the pitch of his voice rise slightly with the stress of his emotions.

Let's waste time
Chasin' cars
Around our heads
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

Her gaze stayed glued to his for as long as he allowed it, which was not long. For the first time all day, Simon let go of her entirely and began to walk away from her. She now had a fantastic view of his back, and while it was a lovely view, that single action was the beginning of their long isolation from one another. She stood still, trembling like a leaf as he began to walk over to a bench. With every step he took and every syllable he uttered, AngelFyre could feel the chipping away of her heart as Simon explained what had been “living heavy” in his. He had not shared with her exactly what he would say or do during the breakup because they needed her reactions to look real and authentic. Well, it sure as bloody heck felt real and authentic.

She followed behind him, moving more quickly than he had so that she could catch up and try to re-establish eye contact. The eye contact was an absolute no go. Her tummy began to do sloshing somersaults. She had felt like this only during the time she had been exposed to that wicked, Darkest Night potion, and had discovered, to her horror, that the thought of procuring more of the potion overrode her desire temporarily for Simon. It would be nearly impossible to explain to anyone just how foreign it felt to be in his presence and not be touching him. It was just not a thing they did, unless they were on their brooms and practicing or racing. But this? Right now? This was all kinds of wrong. Her hands were aching to reach out to him. She almost did a number of times, but she did not want to disrupt his train of thought. He had found the fortitude to make the break. How hard must that have been for him? Was she really going to make him have to do it again?

No. No she would not.

She managed to hear most of what he said, or she thought she did. He was absolutely doing what he needed to do, and they both knew it, but it still felt like she was being ripped apart by a whipsaw of words. What he said aloud for Adrian’s benefit was devastating as he made such a strong case for their separation, but those points were almost immediately countered with his own, true thoughts to her through the binding mark. Torn one way and then the other. Her mind was reeling from hearing the case being made for the breakup while then being buoyed by Simon’s own wants and desires. She was holding onto the promises and reassurances of his silent dialogue to her as best she could. Still, something shattered within her when Simon artfully landed his one-two punch.

One. “Loving you has been amazing, but….” But? BUT?!?! Everything that follows a but in that kind of context is the explanation of why loving her was actually not so amazing. POW!

Two. “This isn't me walking away because I don't feel enough, but because I feel too much….” THUD.

Down. For. The. Count. Some imaginary referee in the back of her mind was raising Adrian Hawthorne’s arm in some shadowy corner of the ring, proclaiming his victory over not just her, but over Simon as well.

The strain finally overtook Simon and he sat down, making a point to lean forward with his elbows on his knees, looking anywhere but at her. She sat down close to him, her body oriented to face him, and he actually slid away from her, leaving enough space for a small child between them. That was the moment a wash of tears immediately filled her eyes and there was just no stopping it. She took great comfort in hearing him tell her that his love for her was the realest thing he had ever known, and that no matter what, nothing could touch what they have.

I don't know where
Confused about how, as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

AngelFyre sat there stunned, just looking at him in silent disbelief and anguish. In profile, she could see how thick his lashes were, and she knew it was because his own eyes were filling with a dhampir’s tears of blood. Oh how she wanted to fling herself into his arms and comfort him, but that time was no more. Lives actually depended on them selling this and following through on it.

A deep, ragged breath caught in her chest. She did not want to make a sound… not a whimper, not a moan…but it was hard to hold it all in. Her voice trembled when she finally spoke, but there was no anger in it. Just confusion. And ache.

“Simon, this just feels wrong. So, so wrong, love. Her eyes searched his face. “Why am I only hearing about these feelings now? Is this a fait accompli a done deal or is this open for any kind of discussion?”

Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the ring on her finger.

"You always said we were stronger together, and I believed you. I still believe that.” She swallowed hard, v0ice tightening. “I - … I feel utterly blindsided right now. And part of me is praying this is just a mistake… something you will walk back.” Her eyes closed as her fingers moved to rub her throbbing temples. The silence lingered between them making the throbbing intensify. Somewhat shrilly she pressed, “Is this a temporary situation, for the summer only, or was all of that,”… and she waved her hand haphazardly between them… “simply your gentle way of breaking this off permanently?”

She blinked fast, forcing the tears to stay put. As Simon had bolstered her courage throughout his barrage, she tried to do the same for him during hers.

“But even now… especially now…I am so proud of you. I know you are hurting too. I heard it in every word you said.” Her tone softened in her silent mind whisper. "I cannot lie and say that what you said did not break me, but I know your heart, love. I know how much it cost you to say all of that. Maybe more than it cost me to hear it.”

She then sat up straighter, as if offering him her steadiness. “Do not worry. I will keep the faith and be strong. I know what we have and I am not going to give up on it, on you, or on us. I love you, mo chridhe." (my heart)

Then she drew a sharp breath.

“Unfortunately, I need one more really hard thing from you to sell this and to let Adrian know you mean for this to be a clean and final break.” She exhaled deeply before spitting out more pain on top of pain. “I need you to take off your claddagh ring and leave it on the bench. Then I need you to ask me to take off mine. Not because I want to stop wearing it, but as a sign I am not clinging to a future that might not come.”

He would hear her desperation, even through the binding mark.

“I hate asking you to do this. I would do it for you if I could. But this has to come from you. I am so sorry, love. I -... I hate all of this as much as I love you. Just remember that when this gets too hard.”

She brought both palms to her face, pressing back the flood she had been holding in. It did not help. The tears came anyway.

She loved this boy more than anyone in the world, but right now, what she needed most was to run. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere private. Somewhere she could ugly cry like she could not do in this moment. Maybe later they could commiserate and try to salve their hurts. Or maybe he would need space to process the horror. Either way, she knew they had to get away from this nightmare, even if doing so meant going their separate ways.

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Reducio

Song (re-arranged) is Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol

***********

Simon and AngelFyre have longstanding permission to godmod one another's characters.

The Gold Between Us @Simon Kincaid
Speaking || Binding Mark

30 June 2025 - ...*

Silence stretched between them, long and aching. She had caught him completely unawares with the ring requests.

He broke the silence when he asked her not to argue, telling her this was already hard enough. AngelFyre listened to him, knowing his plea was a real one, begging for her mercy in that moment. He had been twirling his ring around his finger, screwing up the courage to take it off. When he finally did so, he did it slowly, reluctantly, and placed it on the bench in the space between them. Then he was forced to utter more words that landed like knives in both of their hearts. Thinking something was one thing. Thoughts could be changed or revised or forgotten. Once voiced and heard, however, they made the unreal… or in this case… the surreal… real. Hearing him ask it aloud made it all too real for her. She had been the one to ask him to ask her to take off her ring, but the agony of hearing his voice give breath to those words was not something AngelFyre was prepared to hear.

Simon was no longer communicating to her through their binding mark. He had not been prepared, either, to have to say such words. He was in shock. She knew he was, and she should have been the one to be able to help him in that moment, but she could not. It was no longer her place, officially, to do so, and it was not something Adrian needed to see in that moment.

Without subjecting him to any further protest, and with her bottom lip quivering as she did so, she twisted it off of her long finger, and trembled when she placed her silver claddagh ring next to his gold one. Her fingertip brushed against his ring as she set hers down. Both rings were still warm, and that observation brought freshly warm pools to her eyes.

Silently through the binding mark, even though he was no longer speaking, she knew he could hear her. “Love, when this need for pretending ends,” she said,“I will be here… waiting for you… and I will have gold and silver in my hands.”

Simon did not look to her or speak. He could not. AngelFyre knew he had not thought about the rings, and she also knew that by asking him to take his off, and have him ask her to take hers off, she had truly broken something within him. The pain of that would haunt her forever. The rings were part of them … second skins and sacred promises. It was too much to have to bear and more than he had bargained for; as awful as this had already been, he did not know it would be worse. He did not know that AngelFyre would deliver her own one-two punch this evening.

Their rings.

He rose shakily and said he needed to go. She watched Aunt Maggie and Mark move in quickly towards him as he faltered, both in his step and his utterances. She heard her parents footsteps rushing towards her as well… distantly, swiftly, but somewhat muted as her mind was distilling all thoughts down to him, to her, and to this nightmare they were being forced to endure.

When she finally turned her focus away from Simon and back to the bench, there they were …both rings… gleaming briefly in the moonlight before a cloud drifted in front of the moon, darkening their brightness, and symbolizing perfectly the broken promises and broken hearts.

AngelFyre stared at them … their two claddagh bands resting side by side on the bench, their tiny golden and silver hearts no longer pointed inward. The fountain behind her gurgled softly, as if trying to fill the silence Simon had left with her in the wreckage of his turmoil. Her fingers trembled, not from the chill of the London evening, but from the ache that had settled in her chest like a stone as she reached down to collect them.

She, too, had taken hers off slowly, deliberately, as if the act itself might stop time and prevent what was about to happen from happening. It had not. Time had marched on, and Simon had stood and was now walking away… from her… with not even a last look. No last kiss. All she got in those last moments were just a few parting words that sounded sadly mocking given the gravity of the moment. She knew he did not mean them that way at all. Wishing her a fun summer full of laughs because she deserved them was merely his loving, Hufflepuff soul operating on muscle memory and fighting to breach the surface in an effort to catch a fresh breath and make this all not hurt so damned much.

She could still feel the ghost of his lips on hers from the last kiss at the fountain… the one that was supposed to have been meant to look like a mistake, a moment of passion that had gone too far. But it had not been a mistake. It had been a lifeline. A tether. A promise disguised as a goodbye.

And now he was going.

Her parents were speaking. She could hear their voices, muffled and concerned, but she could not make out the words, and honestly, she was putting zero energy into even trying to. Her mother’s hand was on her back, gently guiding her toward the black cab waiting at the curb. Her father had hailed it moments earlier. AngelFyre looked at it through deadened eyes filled with tears. How appropriate it was black. It was the color of a hearse, and it was here to carry the dead away.

She slid unthinkingly into the backseat, sandwiched between her mother and her father. The door closed with a click… just another nail in her coffin. The vehicle pulled away from the curb, merging into the slow crawl of London traffic. Her mother’s window was rolled down due to the unseasonably warm evening. AngelFyre felt the unyielding pull to turn to look out the back window, and she succumbed to the impulse.

And there he was.

Simon stood on the pavement, flanked by Aunt Maggie and Uncle Mark, his face pale and stricken. His eyes…those usually warm, chestnut-brown eyes…. were locked on hers, even as the cab pulled farther away. He was not blinking. He was not moving. He was just watching. She pressed her hand to the window, fingers splayed, as if she could reach through the glass and touch him one last time. Her heart surged, wild and desperate.

“Stop,” she whispered. The driver did not hear her and kept driving.

“Stop the cab, now! Please!” she said louder this time and with more urgency, her gaze still fixed on Simon’s.

“We’re in traffic, Miss,” the driver replied, glancing at her in the rear view mirror, but AngelFyre could not see him looking at her.

“AngelFyre,” her father began tenderly, “maybe it is best to —”

“Stop the cab, NOW!” she cried out, her voice cracking.

When no one moved, she whirled around, reached across her mother, flung the door open, and leapt into the street. “AF!” her mother shrieked out of concern, but she was already gone, darting between two parked cars, her boots skimming the pavement and her hair streaming behind her like a glistening comet’s tail.

She ran. Not with her normal grace, but with purpose. Towards Simon. Not with fear, but with fire. It was part of her name after all. Her parents had wanted her to have a bit of fire in her personality to act as a catalyst for her to do some good in the world. Well, helping her broken boy... right now... to believe in the vision she had of them was the best good she could think of ever being able to do in this world.

The distance between them, just over thirty meters, shrank with every footfall. She did not care about the stares from passersby, the startled gasps, or the honking horns. She did not care about Adrian Hawthorne, or Vanessa, or the betrothal, or the plan.

She only cared about Simon.

He had seen her the moment the cab passed. Of course he had. His senses were sharper than any human’s. He had probably caught her scent… lilacs and parchment and something uniquely hers, and his head had snapped up. Their eyes had met through the rear view window, and in that instant, the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

Now, as she was fast approaching him, Maggie and Mark stepped behind Simon and off to the side, giving the two their privacy, as much as they could on a busy street. AngelFyre surged forward … not walking, not running… but flying.

Simon took a couple of steps forward and opened his arms. She came in with her usual hard landing, spinning them both around, but he caught her like he always did — completely and without hesitation. His strong arms wrapped around her comfortingly and she could feel him trembling uncontrollably all over. His face and clothing were covered in the sticky dampness of his dhampir tears, but AngelFyre did not care. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, where his scent lived... old books, soap, and something faintly metallic. She breathed him in deeply. He was her favorite scent.

He made a sound… a soft, broken exhalation that might have been a sob or a prayer. She did not know. She did not care. She was home in his arms.

Their lips found each other, and it was everything them in the moments that followed. Sweet. Tender. Desperate. Chaste, but brimming with the weight of all they could not say and could not do. Her hands cupped his face, his fingers tangled in her hair, and for a moment, the world fell away. There was no break up. No heartache. No pain. There was only Simon and AngelFyre, two souls clinging to each other in the safety and comfort of a love they once thought too strong to be broken.

When the kiss ended, she did not let go.

She pressed her tear-streaked cheek to his chest, right over his heart. Her hand followed, and she pressed her palm deeply into his flesh, her fingers spread out across the material of his shirt, drawn to the binding mark sheathed beneath… the entwined dragon and unicorn that formed a stylized heart… their spirit animals of magic… now pulsing faintly with each beat of his heart.

Where once he had only one heart … he now had two.

She smiled through her tears, even though he could not see it. “I heard you,” she whispered to him through the mark. “The day you gave me the Love Locket at Madam Puddifoot’s, I heard you ask me to marry you when I opened it. I have never opened it since because the next time I hear those words, I want them to be coming from your lips. And I will hear them, Simon. I know you will say them again… for the first time.”

The quietest of laughs slipped past her lips, bringing with it a dim flash of light … like the very first flicker of hope rising from grief. She needed Simon to feel that hope too … bone deep. No, even deeper.

Soul deep.

“I know,” she continued, “I know we will be together, Simon. I have seen it, love. I believe it. You have to believe it, too. I know I have never been more right about anything else in my life, other than loving you.” Her voice then fell to a long, breathy exhale, and she squeezed him tightly, as if pressing all the strength in her palm into the place where his body held their shared bond.

Sacred promises.

“And I do love you. My hand to your heart … always … mo chridhe.” (my heart)

Simon did not respond aloud, but simply covered her hand over his heart with his own. He tightened his grip around her with his other arm, as if drawing her closer to where she already lived … just beneath the surface of his soul.

His voice filled her mind, choked with emotion, but clear. “Where you go … I will go … so long as I go with you.”

Then, with a kiss to the spot where her hand had just been over his heart … and with one last kiss to his cheek … she stepped back. She did not want to. Every cell in her body screamed for her to stay. But love … real love … was not always about holding on. Sometimes it was about letting go, just long enough to find your way back.

She turned and ran from the spot of their last embrace… and away from him. Her heart was pounding. Her soul was aching. The cab had pulled up to the curb once again, but farther up the block. Her father was waiting, with the door open and his eyes misty.

She climbed in without a word, and her mother pulled her into a tight embrace, planting a number of kisses on the crown of her head. As the cab pulled away, AngelFyre looked back one last time.

Simon was still there, standing on the pavement, watching her go. Even after the cab sped away, melting into the sea of headlights and taillights flickering into one big blur, she knew her fellow would keep watching … his eyes fixed on the place where she had last been, as if he could will her back into his orbit.

Because it was there … between the rings and the heartache and the last kiss … that something had broken. But it was also there … just faintly … that it had begun to be mended.

Not by forgetting.

Not by time.

But by faith.

By love.

And by the silent … glimmering truth that some bonds do not break … they only crack … and wait … for gold.

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