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Every time you kissed me, I trembled like a child.

„I want to show you something beautiful!”, she says and drags him along, her left arm full of electricity that continues to run straight into him.
Lights him up.
Pushes a fire right through him.
It’s the first time he’s feeling an emotion and it’s everything at once; hot and cold and beautiful and ugly and so, so much that he almost starts to cry.

They arrive at a small hill from where they can look at the night sky with all its stars and clouds and universes behind.
He’s not particularly excited at the sky itself; it’s normal, he’s seen it quite a few times, it’s still the same colour and still the same amount of small dots of lights somewhere far beyond his own imagination.
But the way it reflects in her red eyes, pairs up with the colour of blood – that’s something new for him.

“It’s almost like the other world”, she explains, her hand grasps his tighter and sends another wave through him that almost knocks him off his feet.
He’s getting addicted to this feeling of… of what?
Why would he know what it is when all his life, he’s felt nothing at all?
But it doesn’t matter. All that does matter is that he can feel it pulsating through his veins and it’s completely overtaking him.

“It’s full of golden lights, you know? It’s almost as if the golden lights are people. Just without their ugly sides.”

Jack still doesn’t believe that there are good sides in humans – except for her, everyone is a pitch-black darkness that swallows everything, kills everything around him and inside of him.

“I’d love to visit it someday. I probably will sooner than I’d like to.”

He doesn’t know what those words mean, not yet. In a few years, they will throw him into the depths of despair right as he was about to forget them and bury them so deep inside of his hollow self that he wouldn’t ever remember them.
Jack would forget the smell of her hair, too. The way her hand felt wrapped around his wrist.
And still, everything would pull him back towards her, no matter what he tried, no matter how many emotions he would continue to fake from then on.

There’s a star right in her pupil, shining the brightest. She lets go of his hand and instead takes his arm, pulling him closer to her, so close that he can feel the softness of her cold body against his.
She’s still only wearing a light dress, something way too short in that time and he wants to speak up and tell her that it’s too cold, but he decides against it. It’s unlike him to care about someone.

“Jack? Are you even listening? Or are you spacing out as usual?”

There are stars in her earrings, too, in those purple jewels that indicate her coming from a rich family and still only being out here in a short, white dress and nothing else.
Not even shoes.
She’s weird.

Jack knows how people work, can see through them with rationality; he’s had more than enough time to observe them from his place down on the paving stones, had more than enough days and months and years to understand everyone.
He can judge people and he can predict them.
She’s not one of those.
Everything she does is like a miracle because he’s never met someone like her before, she tugs at his arm some more and then raises her other hand to stroke a few strands of his unevenly cut hair out of his face.

“What’s your name?”

He opens his mouth and tries to reply because this is a direct question and most importantly, it’s one she’s asked before.
She knows the answer.
Before he can speak up, tell her his name once again, he feels an entirely different thing.

A pair of lips captures his own and just like everything she does it hurts, it burns him down to his very core until he dissolves into a few flocks of ash.
Until he’s almost hollow again.

He feels his cheeks heat up when her lips move in the slightest, he wants her to stop or push her away but ends up clinging to her as if she's the last piece of his soul that he’s been searching for.
Both his hands practically shoot up at how intense it feels and bury themselves into the soft and dirty cloth of her dress.

It’s almost as if there are stars inside of her mouth that are passed into his. There's a tingling feeling in his stomach and for a few moments he thinks he’s going to be sick, but he realizes that this isn’t it.
It feels good.

His hands on her waist start trembling, there are sparks in his entire body, flickers of light and of hope that he could never have dreamed of.

Just as sudden as she’s united their souls, their entire beings, she’s gone again, smirking and licking her lip exactly once.
None of them say anything for a few minutes.
Jack thinks of all the sentences he could blurt out, all the words that would lose their meanings if he voiced them.

‘This was my first kiss.’
‘I’m feeling something.’
‘I’m burning.’
Or all the questions he could ask.
‘Was this your first kiss?’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Are you burning, too?’

Instead, he stays quiet, tries to savour this feeling, lock it deep inside of his heart and either remember it forever or forget it in the next second.
He’s not only addicted to the feeling itself.
He’s addicted to her, her black hair and her white skin and her red eyes made out of blood and the stars inside of her.

“Jack”, he mouths, whispers, it’s a mere breath in a cold winter night without snow, “my name is Jack.”

It doesn’t sound empty anymore.
His name holds meaning now, holds another name in his own-

“My name is Lacie!”, she repeats one of the first few words she’s said to him under the black but bright night sky.

She pronounces them differently this time and for a moment he thinks that her – that Lacie’s name holds his own, too-

The feeling slips through his fingers like sand right after, and everything he’s left with are the stars inside of him. Her name is Lacie.

Her name was Lacie.